Page 6 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

“It’s kind of already ruined,” Freya said and sighed, “but whatever.”

I walked faster to the truck. Freya must’ve been truly exhausted if she wasn’t putting up more of a fight. When we reached the side of the house where my old blue truck was parked, I realized she’d fallen asleep.

“You think she’s okay?” I asked Cadence. I opened the passenger door with one hand and slipped Freya into the seat. Arion jumped in behind her.

“She will be,” Cady said. “We all will be.”

As the sun crested the horizon, I prayed my sister was right. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this pocket of peace would be short-lived.

Chapter Three

Walker

Three months passed.

Three months, and Dad still laid in that damn bed. His breaths were steady and even, as was his heartbeat. The witches assured me his spirit still lingered, yet he didn’t wake up.

I had become familiar with the four olive green walls of his room and the steadybeep, beep, beep,of his heart monitor. A single photo of Mom, Dad, Cadence, and me sat on the glass table beside his bed. Cadence had brought it to make him feel at home.

“She’s sick of looking at her dad laying in a bed,” I told Clyde. “C’mon, man. A girl needs her father.”

Especially when she’s already gone years without him.

I didn’t admit the words boiling under my skin. A son needed his dad too. Dad wouldn’t hear them anyway, and it would only make things more depressing. I was sick of feeling so damn sad over a man who’d let me down for most of my life.

“You’re a real asshole,” I muttered. “You couldn’t have gotten stuck like this drinking yourself almost to death. No, youhad to go and do something noble for once so everyone would cry over your absence.”

As my anguish grew, magic heated my veins, and the lights in the room flickered. Humming vibrated my ears. Thea poked her head around the doorway. Her silky brown hair shifted over her shoulders, and her dark, upturned eyes were wide with concern.

“He’s going to wake up,” she assured me.

“You keep saying that,” I argued, “and it keepsnothappening.”

I was being a jerk. I could feel it, but I couldn’t find it in myself to stop. My magic pulsed in my ears, and light danced around the edges of my vision.

“Walker,” she said. “You need to leave. You’ll mess up the equipment again—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered and rushed past her. “I know.”

As I walked down the glimmering hall of the witches’ healing unit, lights flickered. Magic roiled in hot waves inside me. I tried to distract myself by listing things I could see. It was a tactic Thea had taught me after I’d broken the second heart monitor.

Painting of Hecate in all her three-bodied glory.

My dad, bleeding and breathless on the ground, flashed in my mind.

Perfectly polished white tiles.

He’d told me to leave him there, and I had no choice but to obey him.

Simple, gray walls interrupted by doorways.

Thea and the others’ magic had roared in the small room he now lay in just to keep him on the brink of life.

A photo of the sunset—the single splash of red in the narrow hall.

As I burst out of the exit at the end of the hall, I couldn’t keep the memories at bay. Blinding red light eclipsed my vision. My blood boiled from its power. Dimly, like I was watching myself from above, my own magic rose to meet it. Something sputtered above me.

A hand gripped mine.

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