Chapter 1 #2
I snorted and followed as Val led Bridge and me through the woods.
The birds chirped in the distance, settling in for the night, and the cicadas buzzed through the pines and cedars.
Lightning bugs had just started flashing around us, waking up for the night, and the frogs bellowed out their own version of a mating call, adding the perfect chorus to the September night.
Our boots crunched on the dirt as we made the walk, and the closer we got, the more my heart pounded against my ribs.
No, wait.
That drumming sound wasn’t coming from inside my body.
It was up ahead, the riotous orchestra of voices chanting in time with each other, accompanied by the rhythmic dum-dum-dum of mallets on drums. We paused when we got to the clearing, and I forced myself to pull my shoulders back, to stand up straight, to not let the sight overwhelm me.
The entirety of the patched Harlots stood in a circle, singing to welcome the land spirits, to ask them for their grace as we performed our ceremony.
Though the official members of the coven totaled thirty, another fifty stood around them on the outskirts of the clearing, near the trees.
Some banged on drums, some clapped and danced to raise the energy of the spell, and others stood stoically in contemplation.
The warriors.
I recognized some of them as being bonded to Harlots, here to lend their energy should they need to.
But a lot of them were unbonded. Any unbounded warrior was obliged to attend in case the magic selected them.
I gulped and stepped closer to the circle, knowing I had to wait until Lilith called me forth to join.
I eyed the crowd, picking out a few people I’d known most of my life.
Off to the left stood Leander, brother to the Harlots’ secretary, Isobel.
Next to him was his best friend, Lyr, twin brother to the treasurer, Lorelei.
A few other family members milled around, but my attention caught on the Colt brothers in the far corner, standing in the darkness, shrouded by the trees and the impending twilight.
Atlas Colt stood on the end, dressed in a black jacket, matching jeans, and boots.
He was the eldest at thirty-two, standing nearly six-three with broad shoulders and a strong jaw that gave way to lips permanently etched in a sneer.
His dirty blond hair complemented his bright green eyes that sparkled in the firelight.
Wesson, his younger brother, stood next to him.
He wasn’t related to Atlas by blood, but he’d been the only child of Atlas’s father’s second wife, and when she died, he’d taken the boy on as his own.
Wesson was taller than Atlas, nearly six-five, with dark, curly hair he kept cut short and skin almost as tawny as mine.
Neither of the Colts liked me, and truth be said, I didn’t like them, either.
Their father had been my mother’s warrior, and three of them had been with my parents when they died.
I didn’t trust that they had nothing to do with it.
They said my father died protecting my mother, and once he was gone, my mother went quickly after him.
But if the brothers were close enough to see it, why hadn’t they stopped it?
Of course, they’d been new to missions at the time, but that mattered little when the result was the same.
Rage simmered in my blood for one heartbeat before I swallowed it back, remembering they had no other choice but to be here. Atlas and Wesson worked for the Harlots. Even if they weren’t bonded warriors, they were family, whether I liked it or not.
The chanting stopped, and the sudden silence brought me back to the present, refocusing my attention on the witches around the fire. Circe, the vice president and second in command, walked to the center and held her arms above her head, her black hair tumbling down to her waist.
“On this night, we have gathered on sacred land to protect one of our sisters. She will complete her patching ceremony by bonding a warrior chosen for her.” She turned in the direction opposite to me to call in the elements: North, East, South, and West, respectively.
Once the witches had finished their chant, the atmosphere changed. A chilling vibrancy now floated above us like an invisible mist, coating our skin and giving us an ethereal link to the world. Circe turned to Lilith, our president, and nodded, indicating she was done.
Lilith came to the center and took her place, looking toward the heavens, her deep umber skin shimmering in the firelight, her eyes completely white with the power of trance, the irises and pupils gone.
“Great ancestors, grandmothers, grandfathers, all those who lived like us, loved like us, and thought like us, hear our call. Be with us tonight. Give us your wisdom and your strength as we seal an ancient rite. Hail and welcome.”
The moon had fully risen now, shining in the sky like a heavenly beacon, illuminating us in a divine glow.
A whoosh went through the air, lifting the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck as a loving warmth sank into my gut.
I’d grown up with magic. My tita was powerful, and I’d learned to control my own energy from the very women in this circle.
But this…This was the most potent and electrifying experience I’d ever felt.
It was the ancestors letting me know they were here.
It was the hundreds that came before me, whose blood still lived in my veins, and they would bear witness to my induction.
I thought again of my parents and chewed my lip, wondering if they’d made the journey. Were they here in the astral realm? Were they just beyond the veil, waiting with smiles and joyful expressions, hoping my bonding went according to plan?
Of course, I’d never heard of anyone not surviving the bond, but as with any magic, your mileage may vary.
“Elizabeta Marta Maria McDonnell-Ruiz, come forward.” Lilith held her hand out to me, waving her fingers to gesture me toward her.
I took a deep breath and stepped closer, sensing the increased vibration from the circle as I did.
It hummed against my skin and coated my tongue as I breathed, and when I reached the magical boundary, it rattled through my heart, twisting my stomach with excitement and anticipation.
It wasn’t evil, but it wasn’t altogether good, either.
It felt like the unknown, like a dark shape in the woods on a new moon.
“Marta, being patched in is an honor, not a right. You have earned that place, and so tonight, we pair you with a protector,” Lilith said, bowing to kiss the back of my hand.
When she stood, I did the same to her, following the proper protocol of honoring the president of the Harlots and the high priestess of the coven. Lilith smiled and cupped my cheek, winking before breaking our connection and turning to the crowd.
“Our sister cannot stand alone,” the high priestess said. “Every witch requires a warrior. Who is called to this position?”
Shouts of “I” and “Me” came from the onlookers, all the various men who had come to witness my induction and bond themselves to my sacred power.
“Brave Marta, you have heard those who are called,” Lilith said as Circe came forward, holding the chalice.
Lilith took her time pricking her finger with a ceremonial knife, holding it over the goblet so a drop fell inside.
She handed the knife to me, and I held back a wince as I repeated the motion.
Our combined blood sizzled as it handed inside, and I swallowed back my anticipation.
The time had come, and now I would know.
“Place your hand over the cup and ask the ancestors for guidance,” Lilith said.
I did, closing my eyes and whispering a prayer to the universe that it provide me with someone capable and strong, worthy and loyal. Find me the right person. Mother, father, ancestors, help me.
The cup grew hot, burning under my touch, and when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I ripped my hand away and held it to my chest, grimacing through the pain.
A piece of paper flew out of the top, landing in Lilith’s outstretched hand. She opened it, read it, and furrowed her brows.
“Colt,” she murmured.
Colt?
No, that couldn’t be. There were only two Colts in attendance. My heart sank, and my overheated blood suddenly froze like I’d mainlined ice water. A shiver raced down my spine.
“A.W. Colt,” Lilith called, louder this time. She glanced around until her focus landed on the two men standing in the far corner. I couldn’t bear to look at them, too terrified of what I’d see.
Wait…
A.W?
Which one was that? Was that Atlas’s entire name? Were his initials A.W.?
“Atlas, Wesson, step forward,” Circe said, waving her hand in their direction.
Boots echoed on the earth, breaking twigs and stomping through grass, and I felt their presence on either side of me.
“Which Colt?” Wesson asked, and the sound of his deep baritone ricocheted down my spine.
Circe looked at Lilith, who crumpled the paper in her palm before closing her eyes and leaning her head back toward the sky.
I sensed it before she said it. The weight of the energy in the atmosphere settled around me, and my intuition picked it up as if it were flashing a bright neon sign.
Both of them, it said. Both of them.
“Atlas…and Wesson,” Lilith answered.
“Two warriors?” hissed someone close to me.
A chorus of murmurs repeated the surprise.
“I thought she was only supposed to get one?”
“Why two?”
“Both Colts?”
“That can’t be right.”
“Silence!” Lilith’s voice rang out into the night, booming and deafening. “There has never been a Harlot with two warriors, but we do not question the ancestors. We do not question the magic.”
I did. I had loads of questions, starting with, “How fucking dare you!”