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Chapter Five
Walker
A witch sat in the passenger seat of my truck.
She’d offered her own “special” form of travel, but I’d declined. I’d had enough special in one night to last a lifetime.
She stared out the window with pursed lips. Her copper eyes studied the trees we blurred past as if she planned on drawing them. Her legs crossed, then straightened, then crossed again. Her fingers drummed against the door. She hadn’t commented on the truck’s dusty interior or faint smell of cow crap, but the longer we traveled, the more uncomfortable she grew.
“Don’t like car rides?” I asked.
“No. Neither does Arion.”
Her cat—which I suspected was more than a cat—sat on the console between us. His hackles remained raised, and he glared at me every time I looked at the witch.
“You never told me your name,” I said.
She hesitated then sighed.
“I suppose I might as well tell you,” she said. “I’m Freya—Freya Redfern, daughter of Coven Mother Sybil Redfern.”
“Okay, Freya Redfern,” I said. “Where exactly am I taking us?”
“To the only witch I still trust,” she answered. “To my goddessmother, and interim Coven Mother, Josephine. Once I convince her of your innocence, she’ll know where we need to go next.”
“I thought you said the witches were going to shoot first and ask questions later?”
She chewed on her lower lip.
“Josephine won’t,” she assured me. “At least, I don’t think so.”
I sighed. “Great.”
“Turn left here,” she instructed.
I steered away from the winding road that led down mountain and into heart of Hol Creek. The tiny lights of the downtown street twinkled in the darkness, and a few people milled about like ants in the valley. Along the mountainside that overlooked town, we drove past several homes. This was where the business owners and pretty much everyone who wasn’t a rancher lived.
The houses all had multiple stories and huge windows and anything else that oozed money. I’d always thought it was a bit ridiculous. The gravel road led upward, and we reached an apartment complex I’d never seen before. I hadn’t even known our town had apartments.
They perched on a hill above the road. Trees covered most of the black stones they were crafted from, though what showed glinted in the moonlight. Windows peeked through the trees, but I couldn’t see what was inside the building.
“How have I never seen this place?” I asked, “or heard about it?”
Freya smiled mischievously.
“How have you never seen me before? I’ve known you my whole life. Park over here. I don’t want you getting in a wreck and blowing this whole operation.”
She pointed down the street, but not too close to the apartments. When I shifted the truck into park, a brief hum filled the interior. I searched outside for a threat, then looked at Freya and nearly jumped out of my skin.
It was Freya, but it wasn’t.
Her hair was strawberry blonde instead of orange and red, and her copper eyes were muddy brown. Her shoulders slumped, and her arms were thin. Her skin lost its dewy luster, though her freckles remained. I knew I’d seen those freckles before.
“Emily?” I said. “Emily Banks is you?”
She laughed, and even that had changed to a flat cough. Her smile was bright. I wondered what it looked like with her real face.
“My mother wanted me to be raised familiar with the human world,” she explained. “She said if I were to lead, I needed to know our greatest threat inside and out. So, I’ve been splitting my time between witchcraft apprenticeship and human public school all my life. I couldn’t exactly attend with my normal appearance and not attract attention.”
