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Unlike Cadence’s ridiculously decorated room, mine had four beige walls, adorned only by some shelves and a George Strait poster. I tipped my hat at the country legend, which reminded me of how desperately I needed sleep.
I stood before the mirror on my dresser and studied myself. My features hadn’t changed—my brown hair still curled under my hat, and my cheeks were still a touch too chubby to be chiseled—but my blue eyes were hollow. Something on my neck caught my attention.
It was blood. I must’ve cut myself on a stray branch. I thought back to what had happened in the forest. My headache worsened.
I grabbed the firewood, heard something that frightened me, and headed back to camp, right?
Right?
Chapter Two
Freya
The bone was dry and brittle in my hand. It was a poor remnant of my mother. It matched my cream, lace dress. I toyed with one of the flared sleeves and swallowed. I loathed the color of death.
I’d worn far too much of it lately.
“She’s in Summerland now,” Josephine reminded me. “She’ll return to this plane one day.”
But, according to the Elders, she wouldn’t return as my mother. She would be some other witch, or a flower, or maybe even a swan, but Sybil Redfern was gone. Forever.
So unfair.
I was only eighteen years old—practically a baby by a witch’s standard. I wasn’t meant to lose my mother yet.
I scuffed my boot against the smooth, black stone floor of Josephine’s apartment. Mom never favored Josephine’s more modern style. I studied the white granite countertop, and the various herbs neatly organized in glass cabinets beyond the island.
The rest of the coven enjoyed the apartments Josephine designed. Each one in the building was in use. I always admired my goddessmother’s eye for sleek choices, though Mom’s cozier aesthetic had always felt like home. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to return to our quaint cottage. It was far too quiet without my mother’s laughter to fill it.
“I can’t see straight with so many clean lines,” Mom would say about Josephine’s place. Like many things she said, it made little and lots of sense.
Arion rubbed against my legs in an attempt to comfort me. I petted my loyal familiar, who was currently in the body of a lovely calico. He peered at me with round, amber eyes, only a few shades lighter than my own.
“You need to let go,” Josephine said gently. “It’s what she would want.”
Her face didn’t match her words. Her dark brows scrunched over glassy, green eyes, and her usually olive skin was pale. She toyed with one of her many necklaces. Josephine tried to be strong for me, but I knew she loved Mom as much as I did. She was just trying to eat what the Elders fed us so she could feel better.
“She would want me to find who killed her—and all the other witches,” I argued. “She would want me to end them.”
Circe, Luna, Rose, Helena.
Their names rang in my head. As the future leader of our coven, I carried the weight of their deaths on my shoulders. Hecate knew it was up to me to end the deaths, considering the lousy job the Elders had done to stop it. My mother and Josephine had been the only ones to take action, and it had gotten Mom killed. I wouldn’t let my goddessmother die next or any other witch.
“It was her dying wish to save us,” I continued.
“And you will.” Josephine smiled. “Because I found the killer. You will have your vengeance, dearest. I’ll make sure of it.”
*
Walker
Lost in the easy gait of my horse’s lope, I nearly forgot about the night before and the invisible eyes I’d felt on my back ever since.
“Whoa,” I said and sank into my seat.
Jesse, my horse of six years, came to a halt. Together we overlooked the rolling hills of lush trees, green grass, and trickling creeks. The rain from earlier in the morning made it all smell even fresher. A breeze sighed across the valleys and ruffled the hair under my hat.
“You know, Jess,” I said. “Being a cowboy might not pay well, but it sure does have some benefits.”
