by Nash, Layla
Lucia fumbled with one of the backpacks and found more ammunition, muttering, “Reloading,” to Liv as she took the magazine out of the rifle and started popping rounds in.
Olivia took a shaky breath. “Can you take some of this, Sass?”
“I’ll try,” I said, and forced myself upright so I could ease my magic out to support hers.
We couldn’t afford to drop the wards, even with the pause from the werewolves. It already felt like I’d been stripped bare from the first part of the fight, naked and defenseless to the elements. The curse he’d worked on himself had been a doozy—stronger and more powerful than what I’d expected, given all the other magic we’d seen him work. He must have put a hell of a lot of effort into cursing himself, and it was complex enough that I didn’t think I could have recreated it. Which was just as well, all things considered. We didn’t need that kind of evil written down anywhere, so maybe it was a good thing Hazel destroyed his book of knowledge.
What was taken had to be returned. The thought skittered across the surface of my brain, and I shivered. Maybe Ronan stole that knowledge from somewhere, from Temperance or the people she healed, and we’d destroyed it and let it return to where it was meant to be. It still felt unfinished, though, like there was some other debt we were meant to account for.
But we didn’t have the time or the freedom to ponder over it, not with the rain threatening and Ronan still lurking in the darkness and the Bell only knew how many wolves lingering. I was able to shoulder enough of the wards that Liv could take a break, breathing hard and crouching so she could rest her hands on the earth and leech more power from the ley lines. They’d retreated under the earth, as if the lines knew the threat that Ronan posed.
A low growl began with the dire wolves, though it transferred soon enough to the werewolves, and they inched closer to us instead of Ronan. I wanted to curse and stomp my foot—why couldn’t the werewolves have turned on him and torn him apart? Why couldn’t they have been more like Temperance?
Lucia took a deep breath and hefted the rifle, offering it to me. “You want to take this over?”
I held up Temperance’s book. “I’ve got this. I need to bind him. She…kind of showed me how. Or she is showing me how through the book. I don’t know. It worked with the curse. I’m hoping it works for the binding.”
She looked on the verge of rolling her eyes. “Because hope is something to rely on right now?”
“Don’t argue,” Liv muttered, forcing herself to stand. “Okay, Sass. I can take the wards back. But let’s move this along, okay?”
“No, I’m totally enjoying this. I think we should stay out here all night.” I clenched my jaw to keep from saying more as lightning arced through the sky. It looked like maybe Ronan found his magic again.
The dire wolves stalked closer, a few charging the wards, and Lucia managed to hold them off with a few well-aimed shots. The werewolves waited, as if they knew we were tiring and wouldn’t be able to outlast them, and let the dire wolves take the bullets and magical damage. I searched the darkness for Ronan’s magic, hoping to find a hint of him so I could start on the binding. We needed to keep moving, to keep the magic flowing, because if we stopped... I shivered at the thought and pushed it away.
We would be fine. We had to be fine.
What was taken had to be returned. I pushed away the thought and the creeping uncertainty.
The whole sky illuminated in an enormous flash and silhouetted Ronan on a hill not far from where we stood, his arms up to the heavens. His magic rolled out in a tsunami that crashed into us and knocked Liv’s wards aside like they were nothing more than cobwebs. Liv cried out and staggered back, falling on her ass, and I grunted as I tried to divert as much of the angry, seeking magic from her as possible. Lucia stayed on her feet and started firing in desperation, not bothering to aim too closely, as the werewolves circled closer and the dire wolves grew bolder still.
“Get up!” Lucia whirled, her eyes wide with fear. She fired past me at a dire wolf that nipped at my heels, and she staggered closer to Liv so she could try to help our sister. “We don’t have time, Liv. Come on. Please. Get up! Sass! Do something!”
Olivia lay limp and half-conscious, and I knew I couldn’t carry her and bind Ronan. We had to bind him, otherwise he would keep throwing power at us until we were all unconscious and the werewolves could finish us off—or he’d curse us, too. I struggled to breathe as the remnants of his spell shivered through me, still hungry and trying to drain away my magic, and I clutched Temperance’s book like a life raft.
What was taken had to be returned. What was broken had to be joined. What was bound had to be freed.
It repeated over and over in my head, constantly, as time slowed around me and I stared at my sisters and saw for the first time what it would look like to be the very last witch in Rattler’s Run. I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t.
Ronan laughed, somewhere out in the darkness, and the horizon glowed—not with the sun, but with fire. Fire. His lightning ignited it, far away, but with the grass dry and all the magic and static in the air, it spread. Fast. If the magic and the werewolves didn’t kill us first, we’d burn to death.
I stared at him and saw my own death, saw my sisters dying, saw the end of everything. The end of the Lucketts. The end of Temperance’s legacy. The end of the Crossroads as a sanctuary and a sacred place and… our home. A piece of our home. My chest tightened.
What was taken had to be returned.
I closed my eyes and let the ley magic course through me, and I sent out a prayer to whoever might hear me, because we weren’t strong enough to do it on our own. Please. Help us.
And I hoped it was enough as I clenched my fists and faced Ronan, ready to go down fighting if it came to that.
Chapter 60
One of the werewolves charged and Lucia fired round after round at it, backing up until she almost tripped over Liv. I tried to haul Olivia to the stairs down to the cave, hoping they might shelter her a little, but we didn’t have much room to give before the werewolf was there. Saliva dripped off its fangs as it snarled, and I stared into its eyes as it leapt. It would kill me. I knew it would kill me. There wasn’t any more magic left, not even with the book still reaching its fiddly thoughts into my brain.
I stared at it and exhaled whatever fear remained. What was bound had to be freed. Maybe the werewolf would eventually be freed, and would have its own debt to settle for killing or turning me. It would come back to it threefold if there was any justice in the universe. Time slowed as the massive gray body soared through the air, missing Lucia and Olivia both so it could plant its dinner-plate paws on my shoulders and then its teeth –
A cinnamon streak bolted through the air and the werewolf grunted, thrown aside. I collapsed under the weight of the paw it managed to knock into me, and rolled to avoid the rest of it as I fumbled to pick up the book. Holy shit. Holy shit. Lucia shrieked and fired at more werewolves, kicking at me to get me to my feet. I staggered and clutched the book, praying for inspiration as I dragged more magic from the ley lines and up through me. I knocked more werewolves aside as I opened up to the ley magic and took on more of it than I had even the night that Lincoln had to drag me back from the brink, and I sent the dire wolves into retreat, though they waited in the darkness as more brown shadows chased into the light burning from the cave.
Coyotes—dozens of them.
“Coyotes,” I breathed. The tribe. Luke and Nona and... all their people. All their cousins and coyotes, their whole pack, coming to help us. Coming to protect us.
What was taken had to be returned.
Ronan had taken the Crossroads from them. Ronan stole from Luke’s people and bound their land to his blood, to his curse, and cursed the land as well. I couldn’t breathe.
What was taken would be returned. And Ronan would pay for it times three.
Tears blurred my vision but I didn’t have time even to wipe them away. I couldn’t squander the gift of tim
e they’d given us.
I held my right hand up and spun around until I found Ronan’s hideout, away behind a buffalo wallow, and began to chant as magic and Temperance’s memories flowed through me. The ley magic reacted to her book like it was an old friend, a welcome memory, and suddenly I was tip-top full of power. The connection strengthened through the book and the cave as soon as my heel hit the top stair and the stone strengthened underneath me.
Lucia prayed, invoking every god and goddess we’d ever heard of, and reversed the spent rifle so she could swing it at a dire wolf when it got too close. No more ammunition, but at least it was a helpful club. She backed up, trying to hex and attack the werewolves as they charged. There was only so much the coyotes could do against werewolves three—and four—times their size, but with three coyotes to a werewolf, they managed to buy us breathing room.
Nona led the charge, harassing and biting the werewolves, and I sucked in a breath when one came dangerously close to biting her back. I couldn’t handle Nona turning into a dire wolf or a dire coyote. I couldn’t let that happen.
But the book took over and the step I’d taken to save Nona was reversed. Temperance took over, flowing through me until I felt possessed. She chanted as my mouth moved; she twisted my wrist to gesture and send the first loops of the binding spell out after Ronan in the darkness. The fire burned closer and smoke drifted around us in the wind. I couldn’t feel the heat, but it was coming. I could taste it in the air.
Olivia groaned and sat up, trying to stand. Lucia crouched next to her and hauled her up, keeping her standing as she fought against the werewolves. At least one lay still and unmoving beyond us, and only one dire wolf remained.
“We can do this,” Lucia whispered. “We can. Get up, Liv.”
Then Lucia stood next to me and gave me a hard look, barely holding Liv’s unconscious body upright. “I have to take her back to the house. She can’t stay here. I’ll be back.”
Her tone said she didn’t think I’d be alive when she returned. I didn’t blame her. Temperance and I both glanced at her and then back at the darkness where Ronan waited. “I’ll be here.”
“You’d better be.” Her voice broke and she squeezed my arm. “Love you, Luckett.”
“Love you back, Luckett.”
“Don’t watch me go,” she whispered.
I didn’t. I couldn’t see for the tears, but I didn’t need to. Temperance managed to guide loose wards around us even as she continued building the bindings, and her mastery and power humbled me. I’d never seen anything like it. No wonder Ronan hated her for her talent, when even his complex curse looked like child’s play compared to her effortless binding.
It made what my sisters and I could do look like something an infant would accomplish, with no training or knowledge or real control over anything. No wonder Temperance despaired of us saving the family and the Crossroads.
I was little more than a passenger in my own head as she wove the binding, and the coyotes held off the werewolves. They didn’t kill them, instead disabling or distracting the massive monsters until they were far enough away they didn’t threaten me. It seemed as though there were hundreds of coyotes, flashing in and out of the dry grass, when I knew it couldn’t have been that many.
Temperance’s spell rose up, stealing power from everything in the vicinity, and I swayed with the force of it.
One of the werewolves snarled, distracting me, and when I turned, Ronan appeared only a few feet away. I sucked in a breath and the werewolf struck, charging me as Ronan waved his hands around, and I froze. Temperance cast the first part of the binding and tried to snare Ronan to distract him, but the werewolf charged and its teeth closed on my shin and I screamed.
More magic shivered and Lucia shouted from far away, running through the grass toward me before two werewolves closed in on her and the coyotes bolted to protect her. I stared down at the werewolf and felt like I moved through deep water as I reached down and touched its head, and then it wasn’t a wolf biting me but a person. The woman stared up at me in confusion, then collapsed unconscious at my feet. Blood soaked the fabric of my jeans but Temperance wouldn’t let me focus on it for too long. Because when I looked up, Ronan strode toward us, hands outstretched.
He was close. Too close. And we’d expended too much magic ripping the curse off the werewolf. We weren’t ready to finish the binding, it wasn’t—
His hand closed around my throat and I sucked in a breath, trying to fend him off as he started to squeeze and even Temperance’s book wasn’t enough to save me.
A high-pitched yip distracted Ronan and then a coyote bolted out of the darkness at him, sailing through the air. He stared at it, as if he didn’t believe there was actually a coyote attacking him, and the coyote’s jaws closed on his throat in a bright red flash of blood. Ronan shouted and slammed his palm against the coyote, knocking it aside as magic blazed and lightning flared and the coyote fell. Limp. Unmoving.
My heart stopped. I knew that coyote. I knew her. Cinnamon brown. I loved her. Nona.
Nona.
She didn’t move. I clenched my teeth on a scream, shaking my head, and all thought of the binding disappeared. Temperance faded to the background with the power of my fury. An unholy howl tore from my throat and the whole sky flared bright as noon as I dragged magic from the stars themselves and threw it all at Ronan. All the finesse that Temperance used burned up in grief. The binding tangled around him and threw him to the ground. I didn’t care what happened to him, despite the fading warning from Temperance.
Nona.
Smoke made my eyes smart just as much as the tears as I dropped to my knees next to her still form. The coyote didn’t move. She didn’t transform back to human. She didn’t move or breathe or open her eyes to show me it was just a joke or a clever ruse.
My palm rested on her chest, searching for a heartbeat through the thin ribs. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be. I couldn’t be the reason she died. My chest ached and I couldn’t breathe, struggling to inhale more than a whisper. “Wake up, Nona. Wake up. We have to go.”
What was broken would be joined. What was bound would be freed. What was taken would be returned. Nona.
The fire burned closer and the air felt stale and hot and dry, crackling against my skin. Lucia was there, limping and a little bloody, and approached Ronan’s prone form slowly. My fingers closed against Temperance’s book, wondering if there was something in there that would bring Nona back.
That is not the way debts are paid, Temperance told me quietly. You will disturb the balance.
I didn’t give a shit about the balance. I bent my head and held on to Nona, my heart cracking open and spilling memories and love and everything good into the open until nothing was left and I felt hollow. Empty.
What was taken from me could never be returned. Nona was gone and it was my fault. It was all my fault. She’d sacrificed her life to save me from Ronan and I could never repay that debt.
“Anastasia,” a quiet voice said next to me, and a hand squeezed my shoulder. I knew who it was before I drew my next breath. Lincoln. Somehow Lincoln got to the Crossroads.
I wiped my cheeks and lurched to my feet, my focus shifting back to Ronan as the whole world slowed down and whirled around me. I didn’t know why Lincoln’s presence got me moving, but it was the catalyst I needed. Magic flashed all around and sparks of power intruded on the Crossroads—Hazel and Heathrow and the witch and others I didn’t recognize. Too many to worry about.
A tall form, clad only with a coyote skin around his waist, stood alone a ways off, his arms raised to the sky. The coyotes bayed in eerie accompaniment as Luke’s voice rose in a smooth, long chant in a language I didn’t know but felt in my bones as the hair stood up on my arms. The echo of drums pounded through the air, a distant memory, and matched the roll of thunder that built from the storm unfurling over us. Pressure compounded in my chest and made it harder to breathe, and Temperance’s voice faded the farther I got from c
ave. She still whispered to me through the book, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. It didn’t even slow me down.
Ronan needed to suffer, not just for what he’d done to my ancestors but for what he did to Nona. What he did to her ancestors, to her tribe, to Luke’s people. And for what he’d done to me. To my sisters. To Aunt Bess, who must have started the whole mess without even knowing it when she broke the magic binding Ronan and his ilk to the Crossroads. To the five naked people who had been werewolves and lay in the grass, unconscious.
I strode, rigid with fury, in Ronan’s direction as Heathrow and his witch Newton ran toward us, shouting. A spell floated out from the witch and drifted at me, as if she thought it could hurt me, and I brushed it away like an afterthought of nothingness. It rebounded into the witch and threw her ten feet through the air. Heathrow snarled and moved his arms, a wand or stick in his hands, and I held up my hand, palm out, to stop him. He was making too much noise.
Luke’s chanting gained speed as the fire burned closer. Ronan struggled against the binding, conscious once more and just as vile as he shouted spells at me. He used curses and hexes and words that were so full of power I didn’t even really hear them. They slid through my thoughts like flickers of dreams, there and then gone and then there again, and I stored them away for later. I could use them later, maybe against him. Maybe against someone else.
Hatred boiled up in my heart, filling the hole that Nona’s death created. Ronan deserved to suffer. Everyone like him deserved to suffer. He’d brought so much hate and fear and anger with him, the world was better off without him. He needed to die.
I breathed through my nose and whispered a different spell, something that wasn’t from Temperance’s book but from the first book, the one that still wheedled quietly in the back of my head with all sorts of power despite being only dust.
“Don’t do it,” someone said, and I brushed at my ear to get rid of the annoying voice. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t understand. Nona. Ronan took Nona from me. Ronan took Nona from Luke and all her grandchildren. He took her from the world as if she were nothing, as if she didn’t matter. I couldn’t allow that.