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Walker
Across the bloody battlefield, Freya was crumpled at her goddessmother’s feet. She now wore a forced smile that reminded me of the ones clowns painted on their faces. Freya usually smiled like she had a secret.
This wasn’t her smile at all.
Josephine beamed, and her green eyes shined brighter than the moon. I swallowed the shiver that scurried down my spine and picked up the Sol sword. I tuned out the sound of Dad’s ragged breaths and Cadence’s desperate cries. I tuned out the cacophony of not-so-mythical creatures. I shut down any and all hope that this was some twisted dream.
This was real.
Witches were real.
Witch hunters were real.
Honing into the instincts I’d ignored for most of my life, I stepped out of the witches’ circle of protection and into battle. A sixth sense flared to life. I felt the vampires lunge at me before I saw them. The second their coldness seeped into my skin, I arched my sword through air. I didn’t watch in disbelief as they perished into a pile of ash. I just swung at the next one. And the next.
Locked into my newfound senses, I sensed my bloodline's protective spells shield me from several witches’ assaults. The dark witches’ spells whispered in my mind, but I ignored the calls to end myself. Rocks and water and fire came at me, but I sidestepped the attacks.
Amid the chaos, I caught glimpses of Freya. She lay still except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. That tiny motion was enough to propel me forward. To keep blindly cutting, killing, and dodging.
I had to get to her.
Josephine stared at the battle with that same unsettling grin. She wove no spells to help her comrades, though her side was falling behind. Arion charged through the battle like death itself. A few times, he trampled past me.
His hooves shook the earth and crushed those in his path into something unrecognizable. Occasionally, he would leave his victims with a missing throat or an absent head. I didn’t want to think about how he accomplished it. I didn’t let myself focus on the crushed remains of his kills or worry I might veer into his path.
Keep moving. Keep moving. Keep moving.
Finally, I neared the edge of the chaos, where Freya and Josephine remained in the clearing. Tucked into Freya’s jumpsuit was the web. I prayed it offered some inkling of protection for her and gripped my Sol sword tighter. It would have to be enough.
I was ready to charge Josephine, but a dark witch intercepted my path. I only saw a whisper of a grin and glimpse of white-blonde hair before she attacked. She wielded tiny, wickedly sharp blades. It didn’t go over my head that I’d been stabbed by a dark witch just earlier this week.
I refused to have a repeat of that experience.
I parried her blows and fought to land one of my own. She was fast—so fast, she must’ve spelled herself to move with inhuman speed.
Sweat lined my brow and slickened my grip, but I didn’t falter. I wouldn’t. I attacked the witch with renewed vigor and forced her to back a step. Then another. Closer and closer to Freya, we moved. Clearly frustrated, the witch growled and muttered something under her breath. Magic hummed in the air and rang in my ears. As it pulsed through my body, my head swam. Suddenly, there wasn’t one white-haired witch before me, but three.
The triplets leered at me and cackled. One of them flipped her dagger in her hand, while the other swiped for my leg. I danced out of her reach, but barely avoided the next one’s strike to my arm.
“Look at the little hunter dance,” the witch before me crooned.
I swiped at her with my sword, but she easily evaded the hit. The swing left me vulnerable to the other one, who put me in a headlock.
“Not so sure-footed anymore,” she whispered.
Her breath was hot against my neck.
She shoved me into her sister or whatever the hell these things were. Her pale hands gripped my throat tightly enough to make me gasp. Her nails were filed into fine points, and blood leaked from where they dug into my skin. As it trailed down my throat, the witch tracked it with a predatory gaze.
“You Reids,” she said and sneered. “Always so damned heroic.”
I scrambled out of her hold, but it was no use. The other one caught me in her clutches the next heartbeat. She gripped my arms behind my back in an iron hold and popped my sword out of my hand. It hit the ground with a thud, and its flames fizzled out.
“When will you learn?” she whispered. “We witches don’t want your saving.”
*
Freya
