Page 2 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

I reminded myself of my goddess and all she stood for. She was not only the Goddess of Witchcraft, but also crossroads. Transitions. As a strange focus guided my magic, it was like Hecate herself was here—showing me the paths to take and reminding me it was okay to forge my own.

I laid my hand on Walker’s chest and reached behind me. Gloria took my other hand in hers, and the rest of the coven gathered in a circle around Walker’s body, hand-in-hand. I met Cadence’s gaze across the circle, nodded, and closed my eyes. Walker’s spirit fluttered weakly beneath my fingertips. I spoke in our coven’s mother tongue.

Mother of Witches, hear my cry.

It’s up to you, whether he live or die.

As I spoke, magic heated my veins, but it wasn’t only my power. I had expended most of my own magic on the fire that sent our enemies running. It was the entirety of my coven’s magic that now hummed in the air and buzzed under my skin.

Like blowing out a breath, I pushed the magic into my palm, felt it heat where my skin touched Walker’s, then releasedit into the cowboy’s body. My coven repeated my words and a heady thrum buzzed in the air.

I beg you, rebirth him.

Make him one of our kind.

Though my survivor’s senses fought it after almost being Embraced, I forced myself to open up a channel to receive my coven’s magic. It swept through my body like fine wine. I could practically taste the eclectic magic of my sisters, and it warmed me to my bones. Before I could lose myself in it, I pushed it into Walker and continued.

His spirit fights, and our magic thrives.

Mother of Witches, let him return.

I wanted to open my eyes and sneak a peek at Walker, but my focus couldn’t falter. If there was no change in him yet, I couldn’t allow doubt to creep in. Besides, I swore his spirit, like a butterfly under my palm, fluttered in response to the spell I weaved.

Save his soul, his heart, his mind.

But make him a witch for the rest of time.

Just voicing the request felt like treason—turning humans into witches was simply not done, but none of those humans had ever had witch ancestry, like Walker did. None of those humans had ever possessed a spirit so strong, it clung to life even in death.

As if the magic had been waiting for instructions before acting with its full force, it flowed through me with renewed potency. I wanted to bask in the power, but I reminded myself I was a mere conduit. Everything my coven had summoned must go to Walker.

Walker. Walker. Walker.

When the cowboy shook beneath me, hope flared, but, when I opened my eyes, I realizedIwas shaking. My muscles ached from the force of harnessing and controlling so muchmagic, but I swore Walker’s cheeks were flushed. That small sign of life was enough to keep me going.

With a small bit of power, I extended a net to draw in more magic from my surroundings. I drew on the air, which fueled our entire ecosystem. I drew on the supple earth, which grew countless plants, flowers, and trees. I summoned the combustibility of fire, which still flickered in the ashes that surrounded me. I grabbed onto the power of water, which trickled not only in a nearby stream, but all over the world, providing sustenance for all of us.

I drew from life itself and poured it into Walker. My coven gasped at the sensation of such powerful magic sweeping through them, but they did not let go. Walker’s spirit thrummed wildly under my fingers.

Stay,I willed it.Stay, stay, stay.

A gentle glow surrounded Walker. I mentally latched on to the bright, powerful force of Walker’s spirit. It warmed my palms and gave me the strength I needed to continue pushing magic into the cowboy.

The cut I’d made over his heart stitched back together. Something moved under my palm.

His chest.

His chest rose and fell in a gentle, rhythmic cycle.

“Walker!” Cadence screamed and rushed to his other side.

With a jolt, I realized no more magic flowed through me. I was left weak and shaky in its absence. As darkness danced on the edges of my vision, I focused on Walker’s breathing. It didn’t comfort me as much as I wanted it to.

Open your eyes, cowboy,I thought.Crack a joke, a smile, anything.

Not for the first time, he didn’t listen.

He hadn’t listened to me when he made the deal with Josephine to fight one-on-one to save me either. He had known I never would’ve wished that upon him, yet he’d done it anyway.

---