Page 30 of The Fated and the Damned
BythetimeI’drifled through grimoires and old tomes until I’d finally found the spell I was after, I was a sweaty mess. After one look at my clothes and the state of my hair, Eszter had clucked her tongue and shoved me into the tub, a pleased grin on her face.
The rest of the day had passed in a blink, my nerves shot and my anticipation making my stomach curdle. My plan wouldn’t be easy to carry out but, if it worked, it might be our only saving grace.
I just hadn’t counted on needing to implement it so soon.
I had just finished up the town meeting when a táltos sprinted out of the woods like he was running for dear life. The minute I saw his face, I’d known something was wrong. My heart had just about leapt out of my chest, because my first fear had been for Dante’s life, but a few hushed words later, and it had felt like the world had tilted ass up.
I am coming,her message had read.
There were those three words again, the same ones Sylvie had screamed as Dante had carried my half-dead ass in his arms when we’d fled the cultists’ encampment months ago. My stomach threatened to revolt. It’s not that I had ever doubted her conviction, but I had hoped for more time or more of a game plan. Just … more.
Naturally, the announcement that we’d have to move my plan up to, well, today, had not been received quite so calmly. But everyone had their orders, and whether they liked it or not, this was our best option.
I huffed. And it had all been going so well.
The village was a blur as witches spread throughout the town square like wildfire, herding children and gathering precious possessions as they went.
I sprinted up the path, efficiently dodging witches as I went, my boots pounding over the dirt and past the stone statues of the turul guarding the doors. A group of witches were already inside gathering supplies, and I nodded to a few I recognised. Elisabeth—the witch we’d rescued in the woods—and a few other faces I’d never forget.
Hanna’s faithful friends. Less than a year ago I would have flinched to see them, or more likely still, blended into shadow before they could see me.
Everything had changed. Now I saw only fierce determination in their eyes and a willingness to help. Girls who’d grown into women, united by a common enemy and stronger together, as women always were.
I nodded to each witch, and they bowed their heads—actually bowed—as I walked past. They had never done so for Caitlin, and that kernel of knowledge made me smile. Still, it would take some getting used to. Mama and Erika were stockpiling crates gathered from the antechamber, and I skidded to a halt as I approached.
“Is there enough for the spell?” I asked, peering into their boxes.
The crates were filled with white candles, crystals, chalk, and various other trinkets, as well as grimoires and valuable artefacts that had been with our coven for generations. Our history lay in those crates … and our future.
Mama nodded, her brown hair frazzled, the odd curly tendril escaping her bun. “It will suffice. These items are necessary, but whether the spell works or not will depend on the people’s magic, not so much the tools used to create it. Ingredients are necessary, but they mean nothing if not used correctly.”
“Do you really think it will work, Kitarni?” Erika asked, her brown eyes solemn. “With this many witches?”
“It has to,” I replied instantly. “It will workbecauseof our numbers. Power combined is magic amplified. Trust in Istenanya. The mother will see us through.”
Erika shifted the weight of her crate and put a hand on my shoulder. “Never mind the gods. I have faith in you. That is enough for me.”
I smiled, shoving all my fear aside and putting on a brave face. The truth was, I had no idea if this would work because I’d never tried it before. Spells weren’t my strong suit—one mispronounced word, one misstep, and they would all pay the price.
A cost I couldn’t afford.
But thinking that way would only reflect badly to the other witches. The spell would work and my only regret would be missing the look on Sylvie’s face when she realised, she’d been played. I smiled again, and this time it was genuine; if that bitch thought she’d destroy us in one fell swoop, she was in for a surprise.
“Let’s go,” I said, hefting the last crate into my arms. “Laura should have readied the herbs by now.”
We filed out the temple and I looked back on it one last time, bowing to the gods in their stained-glass windows. Every blade of grass, every blossom tree, had all been a sanctuary once upon a time. A place of worship and a garden of escape.
It might be the last time I see them.
As expected, Laura was waiting in the square, the dried herbs required for the spell bundled in neat rows by her feet. The curvy witch bowed her head as we approached, her long black hair swaying in its braid.
“Rosemary for protection, mugwort for cleansing, and stinging nettle for strength.”
“You’ve done well, Laura. Have the witches draw a circle, placing the items just inside the ring. When it’s complete and everyone is gathered, we can begin.”
She turned, barking her orders at anyone within range who didn’t have a child or animal in tow. Impressively, most of the witches appeared to be accounted for, packed and ready nearby. In less than an hour, they’d managed to cram their lives into a few meagre sacks or onto carts.
Sadness panged in my stomach as I looked around me at the place I’d once called home. But, as I watched mothers and sisters scurry about, I realised the endearment didn’t quite ring true. Home had never been the roof over my head, the town, or even the woods I loved so much. Home was my family.
