Spirit Forged (Emberwood Witches #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

"Here, kitty, kitty."

The frozen earth crunches beneath my boots as I circle left, watching Orion’s stance for any tell. My breath mists in the November air, and my fingers have gone numb despite the gloves I'm wearing.

Training in late fall in New England is about as pleasant as sitting on a toilet seat of ice, but at least the cold keeps me buzzing.

Well, that and the ley line energy coming off the Hallowind standing stones beyond the trees.

"You're telegraphing, Poppy." Eliza's voice carries from where she’s watching from the back porch of my house. "I can see that right hook coming from three miles away. And if I can see it from here, your opponent surely will."

"Maybe I want him to see it." I waggle my eyebrows at Orion, keeping his attention on me as Asher creeps ever closer, using the trees for cover. “Am I going with the right hook or am I the queen of misdirection?”

Orion snorts, flicking his head to get a patch of sweaty black hair out of his eyes. “You’re the queen of many things, Pop-Tart. I’m not sure misdirection is in your repertoire. Or subtlety either, for that matter.”

Rude. I move in anyway, dropping low and sweeping toward his legs. He jumps back with feline grace—literally feline, given the whole white tiger situation—and I use the momentum to spring up and actually throw that right hook.

He blocks it without even blinking.

"Better." The vertical pupils of his ice-blue eyes are barely visible in the weak afternoon light, but I see him assess me like I'm a particularly interesting puzzle.

"Again,” Eliza calls.

Asher's yelp punctuates the thud of a body hitting frozen ground. "I'm fine!" he calls out before anyone can ask. "Just testing the density of New England soil. For science."

"Was that you being stealthy, Hendrix?" Orion jogs over to help him out of the tangle of the forest scrub, his gaze glinting with amusement.

Asher grunts, indignantly. “Hey, I was being stealthy! I got this close, didn't I? I’m working at a disadvantage here. I can’t command vines to trip people up.”

Rowan laughs, coming out from where she was hiding in the shadows. “Dude, you’re human. You need to be ready for stuff like that. You gotta dodge incoming attacks.”

“I did dodge… just in the wrong direction.” Asher accepts the hand up, his shaggy blond hair damp with sweat and sticking up at odd angles. "Also, the term dodging is boring. I prefer interpretive dancing through combat situations."

"That explains so much about your fighting style." The red streaks in Rowan’s black hair catch the light as she joins us. In a leather jacket and combat boots, she’s not your typical image of a witch in battle. "And by 'style' I mean 'beautiful disaster.'"

Asher takes a theatrical bow. "I am art in motion, thank you very much for noticing."

I'm laughing, even as Orion comes at me again. This time I block his strike and counter with a jab that actually makes him shift his weight.

"Good," Eliza calls out. "Your reflexes are improving, Poppy."

"And it’s only taken three weeks of getting my ass handed to me on the daily."

"Three weeks is nothing."

Orion moves again, and I barely get my guard up in time.

Eliza shakes her head and jumps down from the porch, jogging over. "You're still thinking too much. Let your body react. Don’t think. Just do.”

Easy for her to say. She's been doing this since before I was born, and she's got actual predator instincts built into her DNA.

I'm just a witch trying not to embarrass myself in hand-to-hand combat while my best friends provide color commentary.

"So, guys?" Asher’s tone still sounds slightly winded. "Don't you think Emberwood has been weirdly quiet lately? Like, suspiciously quiet?"

Orion winces. "Ugh, don't jinx it, dude."

"I'm not jinxing anything. I'm simply making an observation. Big difference."

Eliza makes a sneak attack, and I duck her swing and try to hook her ankle. She sees it coming—because of course she does—but I make her work to avoid my counter.

"He's not wrong, though." Rowan executes a series of high kicks that would make a Rockette jealous. "Since we sealed the tears, the coven has gone silent and there's been no sign of Tharuzel or his minions. It's been almost peaceful."

"No, not peaceful." The words come out before I can stop them, paired with a sloppy uppercut that Eliza easily deflects. "A majorly powerful demon escaped the Hell Realm and is contained within the boundaries of Emberwood. The past three weeks have been us waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Eliza's gaze sharpens. "Dark but accurate."

I wipe sweat from my forehead despite the cold. "The quiet is almost worse than if he was outwardly attacking people. What's he waiting for?"

It's been gnawing at me for days, this feeling of wrongness sitting heavy in my gut. While things seem eerily quiet on the demon front, Orion says Laurel's been stirring up the coven, and Wylder's been avoiding me like I'm contagious.

That, honestly, stings more than I want to admit.

I'm assuming his withdrawal has to do with finding out about the whole blood contract with a demon thing. But what choice did I have? If I didn't agree, Tharuzel would’ve gone after my sisters.

I sigh and swipe at the hair matted to my face, trying to focus on the intentions of the alpha of the Emberwood shifters. Eliza is watching me, her narrowed eyes seeing too much. "You look tired, Poppy."

"Yeah, well, my brain is fried from too many nights staring at my ceiling, replaying every mistake I've made in the past month."

"Sleep deprivation is real," Asher pipes up helpfully. "Left long enough, it causes difficulty concentrating, poor memory, slower reaction times, impaired decision-making, problem-solving issues, and increased mistakes."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Ash. That's super comforting."

"I live to serve, P." He tries an advance on Orion, who sidesteps the attempt with the predator grace all the Carmicheals share. "Also, I'm worried about you."

I know he is. And I love him for it.

My haze is broken as I catch Eliza's fist inches from my face, muscle memory finally kicking in. For half a second, I feel a surge of triumph, then she sweeps my legs out from under me and the world tilts.

The frozen ground meets my back with an unforgiving thud that knocks the air from my lungs.

"You're dead." Eliza leans over me and stares. "Your focus is shit."

"Noted." I wheeze, staring up at the gray November sky.

She offers me a hand up, and I take it, trying to ignore the way my everything protests the movement.

"Don't get discouraged." Her voice actually sounds encouraging, which is basically equivalent to a parade of praise from anyone else. "Three weeks ago, you wouldn't have caught that punch at all."

"I suppose that's progress," I mutter, brushing dead leaves and frost off my leggings.

A few feet away, Orion has Asher in some kind of hold that looks uncomfortable. My best friend's face has gone red, but he's grinning like a maniac.

"Tap out, Hendrix."

"Never! I can take anything you—ow, okay, tapping, tapping!"

Orion releases him, and Asher collapses onto the ground in a dramatic heap.

"I almost had you that time."

Orion laughs. "No, you really didn't, but it's cute you think so."

Asher grins. "Did you hear that, Pops? The sexy tiger man thinks I'm cute."

"I heard."

Eliza shakes her head, but I see the smile she's holding back. "That's enough for today. Grab your water and go get warmed up."

As everyone disperses to collect their water bottles, Asher sidles up next to me. I'm not sure what he sees when he looks at me, but his grin falters. "You good, Pops?"

"Yeah, just a bit winded.”

“And worn out."

“Yeah, that too.”

“Is it the sleeping thing?"

"Among other things."

He bumps his shoulder against mine. "Want to talk about the other things?"

I glance over to where Orion and Rowan are walking with Eliza back to the house. Orion and Wylder are friends outside of the coven. I wonder if Wylder has talked to him about why he's avoiding me like I'm a particularly infectious plague.

"Not really."

"Cool, but just so you know, I'm here for when you change your mind. Or for making inappropriate comments at wildly inopportune moments. Whatever you need."

That pulls a real laugh out of me. "What would I do without you?"

"You'll never have to find out." He grabs two water bottles and tosses me one. "We're lifers, you and me. This is the way."

I nod. "This is the way."

We rejoin the group at the bottom of the back porch steps.

Rowan has her leather jacket pulled tight against the November chill.

Orion leans against the railing, his inner shifter furnace keeping him toasty despite the sweat and the cold.

Eliza stands with her arms crossed, somehow looking completely unbothered by the cold despite wearing only a flannel long-sleeve shirt.

Asher takes a long drink from his water bottle. "Another training session in the bag for the Justice League."

Rowan grunts. "I hate that name. It sounds like we're all going to be wearing spandex tights and capes."

"No capes!" Asher says in his best Edna Mode accent. "Do you remember Thunderhead?"

I laugh at the vacant blinking looks from the others, thankful that I speak fluent Asher. "That's from The Incredibles. And he's right. No capes."

Orion grins. "What if we were called the Incredibles?"

Eliza arches a brow. "That would come back to bite you in the ass."

"What about Shadow Court or the Ember Guard?" Rowan asks.

"Too formal," I counter. "We're more a band of misfit toys than a court or guard."

"What about the Paranormal Incident Surveillance Squad?" Orion suggests.

Asher snorts. "You want us to be called the PISS?"

Rowan makes a buzzer sound. "I am not being part of a PISS group."

A laugh bursts out of me. This is what we're about… this easy back-and-forth craziness, the feeling of being part of something, even if that something is off-kilter and unexpected.