Page 66

She welcomed me with open arms. My room was ready for me. And a week later, everything changed.

Cecelia frowns. “Rumors have been circulating about demons abducting witches. I scarcely wanted to believe it.”

Something in her tone makes me think she does believe it—and she may have already known about my mother being taken to the shadow realm. Mother could’ve informed her of that vision, too.

“Where are you taking me?” I finally ask.

“My coven.” A smile lights up her face. “They’re wonderful, and our leader has already agreed to offer you safe haven.”

When I met Cecelia as a thirteen-year-old, she was a wanderer. It isn’t uncommon for witches to feel the need to travel. It’s the pull of the earth and their magic that tends to guide them where they need to go.

I’m glad she found a coven. And now she’s paying back my mother’s hospitality tenfold, giving me shelter when I need it most.

My heart squeezes.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

I had a coven, once. I’m not sure if I was in it as exactly as an adult witch. It belonged to my mother, and my mother belonged to it.

I wasn’t awakened at the time. I didn’t know if I would even have magic. I only remember flashes of that period of life. Mother's best friend was the coven leader. They were thick as thieves until the end.

I close my eyes and fight off the horrific flashbacks. It’s been a while since those have made an appearance.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take me to them.” My voice is small. “The Winter Wolf is after me, and if you bring me to them, you’ll just be in danger.”

“I understand your fear.” She reaches over and pats my shoulder. Her hand slips down my back.

I gasp, arching away from her touch.

“What’s wrong?” Her foot comes off the pedal, and the car heaves as it slows. “What was that?”

“Just a little injury,” I manage, holding my breath until the wave of pain passes. “It’s fine.”

“You said they didn’t hurt you,” she says carefully.

“Well, they didn’t. It was a wolf from a different pack.” I add a lie, “It only hurts when I hit it.”

“We’ll heal you when we get there. Those savage wolves.” The last bit is said as a curse.

I lean back against the seat carefully, maneuvering so the worst of the injuries aren’t pressing into the leather. A safe, warm feeling envelops me. I can sense the magic radiating out of Cecelia like a calming blanket descending over me. It should alarm me, but I don’t have the energy.

Before I know it, a hand on my arm is shaking me awake.

I sit up and rub my eyes, then take in the new view.

We’re in a valley with sharp, treeless red rock mountains rising around us. Cecelia’s car is parked in the driveway of a large two-story home. The dirt and stones leading up to the front door are an orange-brown color, and sagebrush lines the gravel walkway.

Utah.

“Ready?”

I nod and climb out of the car. I follow Cecelia to the door, which she opens without knocking.

“Is this your place?” I ask.

“I live here,” she answers.

A non-answer, really, but it isn’t unheard of for coven witches to reside together. She leads me through a huge, open front room to the back of the house. We find another woman in the kitchen, fixing herself a steaming drink in a mug.