Page 114 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

Gloria swallowed. “We couldn’t see it. She bespelled it to be shown only to you.”

???

Freya

As I rode the elevator up to my goddessmother’s apartment, I couldn’t stop shaking. Arion coiled himself around my legs, but even the touch of my familiar failed to calm my racing heart. The organ beat so quickly, it hurt. My eyes stung, and unrelinquished sobs ached in my throat, but I held back the tears like my life depended on it.

You cannot break down,I reminded myself.Youcannotbreak down.

Too much depended on my strength.

As I stepped onto Josephine’s pristinely white floors, the dirt I trekked in distracted me from the tightness of my chest. I imagined Josephine chiding me for the mess.

Dearest, were you raised in a barn? I possess earth magic, but I amnotan earth worm. Sweep that up now, and I’ll make us some tea.

I buried the fondness that swelled in my heart and approached the narrow hall that led to her bedroom. Even in the dim light, the harsh lines and contrasting black and white aesthetic gave me a headache, though my goddessmother had loved nothing more than her dramatic color scheme. Arion nudged my calf, and I realized I had stopped.

“Gloria said the message is waiting for me in Jo—in her bedroom,” I said. “I’ll make the rest of the journey alone.”

Arion meowed and circled me in protest. I reached down to scratch him behind his orange and black ears.

“I’ll be okay,” I promised and willed the words to be true.

As I walked toward the white door that led to Josephine’s bedroom, I wished Walker was beside me, but he had taken his sister to their quarters to shower and rest. I didn’t begrudge him for it. What I told Arion was true—this was a task I had to face on my own.

I still wished he was here, if only to wait outside the door for me.

Witches don’t believe in love,Walker had said.You’ll never feel what I feel.

If anyone was to blame for his absence, it was me, though I wasn’t sure how exactly. Had I strung him along? Was that where my guilt lay?

Or had I failed to correct his false assumption?

“Quit stalling,” I muttered to myself and turned the doorknob.

I stepped inside Josephine’s bedroom, and my breath caught.

It was exactly as my goddessmother had left it.

The white comforter was as fluffy as ever, and the black throw pillows were spotless. Josephine’s magic hummed in this place, even after months of her absence. Her magic repelled every dust mote, and covered every inch of her plush white carpet, unlit lamp, and sleek glass vanity.

Moonlight poured in from the window behind her grand bed, but I snapped my fingers, and the sparkly bedside lamp came to life.

In its shine, I spotted a delicate music box sitting on the vanity. Its intricate carvings and signs of age were at odds with the rest of the pristine apartment. Thin cracks lined one of the music box’s corners and its golden latch was tarnished. As I approached it, Josephine’s magic hummed louder from inside. It buzzed against my skin in greeting.

I swallowed.

Carved into the music box was the Goddess herself. Her three faces stared at me with empty, white eyes. I reached for the box’s golden latch, and something pricked my finger. I hissed, but where my blood stained the latch, it glowed. The music box swung open, and there she was.

Josephine.

I stumbled back from her projection, which flickered and glowed at the edges, but undeniably depicted my goddessmother. Those were her Moonflower green eyes and her red lips. She wore a skimpy gown that outlined her thin figure, and jewelry bedecked her ears, neck, wrists, and fingers.

For a heartbeat, she looked at me with such love, I wondered if maybe she had survived—maybe that monster from the spring had been a farce, andthiswas the real Josephine.

“Dearest,” she crooned.

The astral projection flickered, and I remembered this was simply a message. My Josephine was gone.

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