The Witch and The Blood Oath (The Witch and The Cowboy #2)

Chapter One

Freya

“C adence,” I said with false authority. “Help Thea sprout roses, hydrangeas, and irises. Three of each.”

Much to my relief, my dark-haired friend did not argue and neither did Cadence. Thea took the shaking girl’s hand and led her aside to do as I asked. I didn’t move from where I crouched beside my fallen cowboy. Gloria looked on the verge of killing me, but she kept her mouth shut. Walker had gotten to her too with his goddessdamned goodness. The old witch couldn’t find it in herself to stop me.

“Mable,” I addressed another Elder. She adjusted her long, white braid and honed her glacier gaze on mine. “I’ll need raven’s feathers too. And a snake’s shed skin. And…”

As my gaze caught on Walker’s pale form, he eclipsed my thoughts. He laid across a small patch of earth not scorched by my fire. Only moments ago, I had unleashed my rage upon the dark witches and vampires who dared to fight after Josephine’s death. Luckily, my coven members had portaled themselves and our werewolf allies out of harm’s way.

Those who had been too stupid or too slow to flee were now ash on the wind. Blackened grass stretched from Walker’s front porch to the woods that bordered the Reids’ property, and the creaky, old gate that was always left open.

“A butterfly’s cocoon,” Gloria said. “Well, three of them. Three of everything.”

Lyra stepped forward and crouched beside me. Her plum, velvet robes pooled around her. She reached for my hand, which still clutched Walker’s cold one. I raised my chin.

“The High Witch did not save us,” I said. “ I did—the Heir of your coven did. I saved you when I could have ran, just as I saved Walker when I could’ve killed him. Had I not, Josephine would’ve killed another young witch, all while the High Witch did nothing.”

I took a steadying breath. “Follow me now. Follow me because I have always followed you, but now it’s time for me to lead. Please. I know in my Goddess-given heart we have to save him.”

Lyra stared at me a second longer then dropped her hand and stood. For a heartbeat, I didn’t know if she was going to portal away or concede to help.

“You’ll need witch blood as well,” Lyra finally said.

Relief bloomed in my heart, but it was short-lived. An impossible task still loomed before me, but it was more surmountable with my coven at my back. More and more witches portaled back to the Reids’ property to help. While they summoned plant-life and other ingredients, I unsheathed a dagger from my thigh and slit my palm. The crimson line that welled matched the rest of the cuts and scuffs on my body, and I was so focused, it barely stung.

Going on a vague memory of Marie Laveau, knowledge of general transformation magic, and instinct alone, I squeezed a drop of my blood onto Walker’s forehead, directly between his eyes. I released another drop across his lips. With my unwounded hand, I unbuttoned his leather vest and tore a hole through the shirt beneath it. I dropped another speckle of blood directly over his heart and tried to ignore how his chest failed to rise and fall.

As the seconds passed, the Blood Moon lightened the sky. Without its power, the spell would never work.

It probably won’t work anyway.

I blocked out the thought. I didn’t have room in my head for doubts.

Luckily, my coven members finished summoning the ingredients and laid them around Walker in groupings of three. As Walker was covered in flowers, skins, and cocoons, I had an epiphany.

“Cadence,” I said.

The twelve-year-old girl stared at her brother with anguish lining her face. When she finally met my gaze, I forced myself not to look away from her vividly green eyes, which so closely resembled Josephine’s. Cady tucked her brown hair behind her ear and waited for me to speak.

“We need three things to tether Walker to himself,” I said. “His hat will work as one…”

Cadence thought to herself for a moment then jetted toward the Reids’ house. None of my coven members spoke about my twist on the transformation spell, but Gloria nodded in silent approval. Though it probably only took Cadence two minutes to return from the house, it felt like hours.

She carried a well-worn children’s book in one hand and a lock of coarse hair in the other. She laid the book by Walker’s side and placed the lock of hair on his other side.

“His favorite book as a kid,” Cadence explained. “He told me Mom would read it to him every night. And I always thought the hair was kinda creepy, but it’s a lock of his first horse’s tail. He loved that guy almost as he much as he loves me.”

I blinked away the tears that threatened to fall and nodded. All the ingredients were gathered. It was time to bring back the cowboy who had so foolishly died for me.

It was time to perform the spell.

You don’t even know what the spell is.

I blocked out the thoughts bubbling over from the most insecure corners of my mind. Witches were always tweaking spells to make them their own, which was essentially creating new spells. The way I transformed water into ice wasn’t the exact way Thea did it. Every witch was different, and every witch was capable of what they believed they could do.

I am the Heir to the Coven of Hecate.

I reminded myself of my goddess and all she stood for. She was not only the Goddess of Witchcraft, but also crossroads. Transitions. As a strange focus guided my magic, it was like Hecate herself was here—showing me the paths to take and reminding me it was okay to forge my own.

I laid my hand on Walker’s chest and reached behind me. Gloria took my other hand in hers, and the rest of the coven gathered in a circle around Walker’s body, hand-in-hand. I met Cadence’s gaze across the circle, nodded, and closed my eyes. Walker’s spirit fluttered weakly beneath my fingertips. I spoke in our coven’s mother tongue.

Mother of Witches, hear my cry.

It’s up to you, whether he live or die.

As I spoke, magic heated my veins, but it wasn’t only my power. I had expended most of my own magic on the fire that sent our enemies running. It was the entirety of my coven’s magic that now hummed in the air and buzzed under my skin.

Like blowing out a breath, I pushed the magic into my palm, felt it heat where my skin touched Walker’s, then released it into the cowboy’s body. My coven repeated my words and a heady thrum buzzed in the air.

I beg you, rebirth him.

Make him one of our kind.

Though my survivor’s senses fought it after almost being Embraced, I forced myself to open up a channel to receive my coven’s magic. It swept through my body like fine wine. I could practically taste the eclectic magic of my sisters, and it warmed me to my bones. Before I could lose myself in it, I pushed it into Walker and continued.

His spirit fights, and our magic thrives.

Mother of Witches, let him return.

I wanted to open my eyes and sneak a peek at Walker, but my focus couldn’t falter. If there was no change in him yet, I couldn’t allow doubt to creep in. Besides, I swore his spirit, like a butterfly under my palm, fluttered in response to the spell I weaved.

Save his soul, his heart, his mind.

But make him a witch for the rest of time.

Just voicing the request felt like treason—turning humans into witches was simply not done, but none of those humans had ever had witch ancestry, like Walker did. None of those humans had ever possessed a spirit so strong, it clung to life even in death.

As if the magic had been waiting for instructions before acting with its full force, it flowed through me with renewed potency. I wanted to bask in the power, but I reminded myself I was a mere conduit. Everything my coven had summoned must go to Walker.

Walker. Walker. Walker.

When the cowboy shook beneath me, hope flared, but, when I opened my eyes, I realized I was shaking. My muscles ached from the force of harnessing and controlling so much magic, but I swore Walker’s cheeks were flushed. That small sign of life was enough to keep me going.

With a small bit of power, I extended a net to draw in more magic from my surroundings. I drew on the air, which fueled our entire ecosystem. I drew on the supple earth, which grew countless plants, flowers, and trees. I summoned the combustibility of fire, which still flickered in the ashes that surrounded me. I grabbed onto the power of water, which trickled not only in a nearby stream, but all over the world, providing sustenance for all of us.

I drew from life itself and poured it into Walker. My coven gasped at the sensation of such powerful magic sweeping through them, but they did not let go. Walker’s spirit thrummed wildly under my fingers.

Stay, I willed it. Stay, stay, stay.

A gentle glow surrounded Walker. I mentally latched on to the bright, powerful force of Walker’s spirit. It warmed my palms and gave me the strength I needed to continue pushing magic into the cowboy.

The cut I’d made over his heart stitched back together. Something moved under my palm.

His chest.

His chest rose and fell in a gentle, rhythmic cycle.

“Walker!” Cadence screamed and rushed to his other side.

With a jolt, I realized no more magic flowed through me. I was left weak and shaky in its absence. As darkness danced on the edges of my vision, I focused on Walker’s breathing. It didn’t comfort me as much as I wanted it to.

Open your eyes, cowboy, I thought. Crack a joke, a smile, anything.

Not for the first time, he didn’t listen.

He hadn’t listened to me when he made the deal with Josephine to fight one-on-one to save me either. He had known I never would’ve wished that upon him, yet he’d done it anyway.

“It worked,” Cadence said. “It worked, didn’t it?”

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t find the words.

“His body lives,” Gloria said, “and his spirit clings. Time will tell if the two can become one once more. We’ve done all we can do.”

Cadence’s lips wobbled, but she nodded. “And my dad?”

Guilt gnawed at me. I had forgotten all about Clyde Reid, the drunk of a father who’d finally stepped up for his kids and aided us in the battle. He’d been wounded badly, but I didn’t know if he still lived.

“He’s resting in our healing unit now,” Lyra told her. I felt a flicker of relief. “Time will tell for him as well.”

I didn’t particularly like Clyde, but for Cady’s sake, I didn’t want the hunter to die.

Cadence dragged her hands down her face. “I hate time.”

Me too, little witchling, I thought. Me too.

???

Walker

Everything hurt.

Seriously, it felt like I’d been hit by a truck then got stomped on by a horse. I was stuck in the in-between state of sleep and consciousness where darkness floated around my vision, but pain leaked through the peacefulness of rest. I just couldn’t remember what had caused it.

Did I fall off a horse?

I hoped not. A couple years ago, one of Nathan’s supposedly green-broke three-year-olds had dumped me flat on my ass. Sawyer and Brody had mocked me about for months. Hell, they still mocked me.

I missed my friends. It felt like it’d been forever since I had seen them, though I wasn’t sure why. We worked together. I always saw them. Our bromance was stronger than most people’s greatest romance.

Romance…why did that trigger a flash of red hair?

I didn’t have any romances. Cadence would’ve so made fun of me for them if I did.

Cadence.

I prayed she wasn’t hurt by whatever had done me in. Now, I actually hoped I had fallen off a horse. It was better than the alternative of a car wreck. Car accidents could be deadly. That was a truth I knew all too well.

I tried to shake myself awake, but the darkness pressed in on me, and total unconsciousness threatened to overwhelm my senses. Though it was tempting to settle into its cool embrace, something beckoned me to fight it.

I needed to check on my sister. She’d been in danger, and Dad too. I wasn’t exactly sure why I cared about that prick’s fate, but I did. I was forgetting something.

Flames.

I remembered flames.

Small fingers squeezed my hand. The visceral sensation guided me back into my body. I was laying on the grassy ground of my front yard. Smoke and ash drifted through the air and mingled with feminine voices. Something else lingered outside of my touch. It electrified my veins like pure adrenaline. It hummed in my ears and warmed my chest.

At first, the sensation scared me. Something like it had hurt me—it was what got me here in this strange in-between-place. Though I didn’t remember, my body did.

But this was different. This thing, this music that thrummed in my body and in the air, it was as much a part of me as the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I didn’t need to fear it. It made me strong.

All I’d ever wanted was to be strong. I had wanted to be strong enough for Cady, strong enough for Dad—strong enough to save my mom—and now that strange strength surrounded me and filled me, untapped.

With invisible hands, I latched onto that hot rush of strength and forced my eyes to open.