Page 29 of The Crow Games

Blue wrinkled her nose and accepted the glass, careful not to touch my fingers with hers, like I was contagious. Emma and Blue left us to our breakfast in the dining car to go and work the water spell.

I did most of the eating, my satchel clutched beside me to deter others from stealing my goods.

Ruchel picked at the fruit on her plate and watched the migration of the giants out our window. “They’re getting bolder,” she said, worrying her lower lip. A sheen of sweat built at her brow, evidence of her growing fever.

“I don’t think giants stand much of a chance against reapers, though,” I said reassuringly. More cloaked crows gathered, floating like wraiths to herd the lumbering creatures farther away from the tracks. Their billowing shadows were as black as night and as big as houses.

I felt the darkness approaching before I saw it crawling along the window glass. The hair on my arms stood at attention. Shadows crept from the corners of the room to coat the cabin floor. I propped my boots up on the empty chair next to me to avoid the pooling magic. The scent of leather and cedar oil filled my nose as a cloaked figure billowed up from out of the shade.

Ruchel choked on the piece of apple she was nibbling.

“You,” I stammered. My tongue failed to come up with anything more useful or coherent.

Asher stood so close I could reach out and touch his cloak. His overly curious magic circled my seat, running shadowy veins up the chair legs. My spirit sputtered in my gut, too weak to make much of a showing after the events in the night.

“Trouble,” he greeted in that baritone of his that was as deep and dark as the death magic rippling all around him. Then he stared at me with the patience of an ageless man who never had to hurry.

My heart thumped against the cage of my ribs in the rudest fashion, ignoring my internal commands to appear brave and collected, to behave formidably before our foe. Sweat gathered in my palms. “What do you want?” I prompted.

“You,” he said softly, and the pulse at my throat jumped. “You and the rest of my little coven.”

At that, my misbehaving heart came crashing to a halt.

Chapter 7

“The god Unger created the giants to hold up the skies during creation to keep the clouds from crashing into his beloved seas, but the creatures have lost their purpose since then. Now the giants wander the wilderness wild and hungry.”– Esther Weil, Renowned Folklorist

Ruchel spluttered out a curse word.

“I must have misheard you,” I said, once my heart jolted back to life again. “You said‘my’ coven when clearly you must have meant ‘your’ coven.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Trouble.” His placid expression cracked ever so slightly, quirking the side of his mouth. “This is my coven too now. I joined yesterday with my blood. Didn’t you see me?”

Slack-jawed, Ruchel sputtered out another curse.

“You know damn well we couldn’t see you hiding in the shadows. You made sure of it.” I glowered at him, my neck and ears running hot. “You’re the reason the blood darkened and formed a crow. That wasn’t a blessing at all.”

His lips twitched. “I suppose that depends on your definition of blessing. I’d like to think of myself as a boon rather than a curse.”

“You’re worse than a curse,” I bit out. “You nearly succeeded in killing me yesterday.”

His pale brows furrowed, and his dark magic rippled and roiled like an agitated sea. “Killing you? I did no such thing.”

“You did,” I insisted, and Ruchel watched our exchange with interest, scooting to the edge of her chair. I had to be more careful with my words when I spoke about the god sigil he’d smothered. Ruchel wasn’t the only one who might be listening. “You took away my . . . means of protection.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Your death wasn’t what I was after. It’s your magic I was interested in. If I disarmed you, well, that wasn’t my intention. Clearly that wasn’t the only weapon in your arsenal.”

Hands in fists, heat warmed my chest, and my spirit stirred to life, readying itself. “You’re not in this coven. You didn’t speak the words, and you weren’t accepted.”

Adding his blood was all that mattered to seal the vow—the rest was ceremony—but I would cling to every technicality if it thwarted this Death spy.

“We can fix that right now.” Asher pushed back his midnight hood. He wore his silvery-white hair pulled half up into a knot. Casually, he scratched at his cheek, the hint of a smile growing in the corner of his mouth. “What was it you all said again . . . ? Oh, that’s right. ‘I vow by my blood and by my magic to serve the good of my coven, to stand in unity with my sisters until Death ferries me to the life after.’”

I snorted. “Fat lot of good that’ll do you—”

“We hear you, brother,” Ruchel said quietly.

My gaze snapped to hers. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

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