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He was the most mundane witch hunter I’d ever seen, not that I’d seen many. I just assumed his day would consist of more than mucking out stalls, fixing fences, and hunting down cattle. Admittedly, I was the cause of two of those problems.
I stood among the trees of the huge pasture and carefully avoided piles of cow dung. The hunter chatted casually with his friend and searched for the cattle I’d released. I finally ended my Invisibility spell. I needed him to find the cattle so his friend would leave. I hadn’t expected something like him to have friends.
The pair laughed at something I couldn’t hear. His ease had to be an act. Surely, he knew I hunted him by now. He must’ve sensed my magic earlier but wanted to face me without bystanders, like his disgruntled boss and obnoxious friend. Though I wasn’t particularly fond of them, and I hated to oblige his wishes, I didn’t kill innocents, nor did I risk exposure. It was better to let the fear sink into the hunter anyway. It would make his death so much sweeter.
Arion purred at my side. He always enjoyed hunts even more than me, but this time was different. The stakes were higher, and the punishment—the one I would deal—was far greater than ever before.
I eased my mind with three steady breaths. With each one, I focused more on my surroundings and the potential magic I could shape to my will. Crisp, dry air burned my throat, and water gurgled in a nearby stream. Dahlias swayed in the wind, as did the tree branches high above my head.
“Magic is everywhere,” Mom used to say. “That’s why you must always be observant—know where and how you can get it.”
Not all natural magic was my forte, but luckily, I could manipulate air without a second thought and draw power from earth to craft a mean spell. Mom hadn’t finished my training in fire or water before she—
Before she was killed.
Josephine, my second greatest mentor, had told me to stop saying that.
“Witches can’t be killed,” she had reminded me. “They can only be transformed.”
But screw that. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat reality with the pretty language the Elders crafted.
My mother was dead. Gone. Ripped from me all because some foolish hunter decided to pick up his family’s business once again. Josephine had explained it all to me. The Reids had long ago given up their family dynasty of killing witches in a peace treaty with my coven, until their youngest son broke that peace. His jacket, which he wore even now, was stained by my own mother’s blood.
I’d been shocked to learn he was responsible. We’d gone to school together since we were young. He was well-liked and well-mannered. He’d always seemed so innocuous, but I knew plenty of monsters who hid behind pretty faces and polite smiles.
His laugh echoed through the valley, and I saw red.
Three deep breaths.
One…two…three.
He would die tonight.
Chapter Three
Walker
Two hours and fifty cattle later, we were done. I triple-checked the gate, then walked Jesse to the barn. When I slid off, my legs were numb stumps. The temperatures had dropped with the Sun, and my breath fogged the air. With Sawyer and his mare beside me, I creaked open the barn’s large, wooden doors. The rest of the horses, already tucked into clean stalls, nickered at the cold air that swept in.
“Settle down, you babies,” Sawyer called.
I walked Jesse to his stall at the end of the barn and enjoyed the familiar clop of his hooves hitting padding across the matted floors. The barn was my favorite place to be. Lush valleys and breathtaking views were exciting but being surrounded by horses brought me peace. Warm lights glowed gently down the aisle that ran between two rows of five stalls. Sandwiched between stalls were the tack and feed rooms. Each had heaters for colder months.
Some quiet part of me longed for a place like this of my own. It was out of the cards, of course. I couldn’t even afford our family home if not for the inheritance money from Mom’s parents. Hopefully, I’d be able to hold onto it long enough to get Cadence out of the house and into college. My sister was crazy-smart. She’d secure a scholarship. I was sure of it.
I couldn’t be sure of anything else.
When I turned Jesse into his stall, a shadow flickered behind me and disrupted my reverie. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Jesse lurched at my sudden movement. I cursed my jumpiness, but I couldn’t place its source.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said into his ear. After a few pats on the neck, he settled down.
I took off his bridle and checked that he had plenty of hay and water. I gave him one last pet and walked out of his stall.
“Walker,” Sawyer huffed. “Forgetting something?”
I spun around and winced.
I’d left the damn saddle on.
