Page 112 of Soul of a Witch

She didn’t even flinch. Her lips kept moving, the whispers coming faster, “Blood of the dead, resentfully taken. Blood of the lover, willingly sacrificed. Bond made in feral night to call his name. Offer him sweetness, liquor, and pain.”

Every time she said it, the words grew faster. Her arm trembled as it lay against the tree. In her opposite hand, clenched into her fist, was Sybil’s encoded notes.

“Blood of the lover,” she kept murmuring. “Willingly sacrificed —”

“Everly!” Grasping her shoulders, I wrenched her upright, and she screamed, thrashing against me. Her heart was pounding too hard, dangerously fast, while her body temperature had dropped frighteningly low. “Calm down, you’re alright, darling. I’m here. Sshh.”

She struggled for another moment before she went limp. Her chest was heaving, ragged panting breaths wheezing out of her.

“Callum?” Her voice shook in terror. She grasped my arms, held tight against her chest. “I read it, Callum. I read it. I saw her write it.”

“Take a deep breath,” I said, stroking her hair. “Let your mind settle before you speak.”

She clung to me as she shook. As I rubbed her arms, her back, her neck, the tremors finally stopped.

Her voice was hoarse as she said, “I can read the code. I had a vision of Sybil. I heard her speak. I know what we have to do.”

39

Everly

“Blood of the dead, resentfully taken. Blood of the lover, willingly sacrificed. Bond made in feral night to call his name. Offer him sweetness, liquor, and pain. Hmmm.”

Grams made a sound as if she was clicking her tongue, then the radio fell silent as she continued to think. We were in the greenhouse, Callum and I seated on the ground before the great tree, with the radio close by. My body was no longer trembling, having ravenously eaten the cake Callum brought me, but my mind still felt hazy.

My vision of Sybil had felt so clear, so real. My hands had been hers and I could see through her eyes. Looking at her encoded language now, I still couldn’t understand it any better than I had before. All I had was this persistent certainty that the words swirling around in my head were the ones I needed.

“I saw a knife in my vision,” I said. “There was magic around it; the blade didn’t reflect any light.”

My grandmother hummed again. If a ghost had feet, hers would have been pacing. “I see. It would seem these are instructions for a ritual, doubtlessly intended to imbue a weapon with magical power. This is dark, dangerous magic; its use of blood makes that clear.Feral nightandto call his name…now what could that mean?”

“Perhaps the night of a full moon,” Callum suggested.

Suddenly, laughter rang out all around us, the plants shivering and shaking as Darragh appeared from the leaves. He burrowed up out of the ground, thin roots writhing around him.

“It’s Halloween, you silly demon,” he said, to which Callum growled. “That’s what we fae call it. The Feral Night. When the Veil is thinnest, when all the strange worlds of this dimension come close enough to touch. Andto call his name, that part is obvious as well. Who else would be summoned by sugar, alcohol, and pain?”

“Stop speaking in riddles!” Callum snapped, but at the same moment, Winona gasped.

“Of course!” she said. “I should have known. Sybil was referring to the fae king, the Lord of the Forest! Such offerings would be made when seeking his blessing.”

“The Old Man himself,” Darragh chuckled, the sound like rattling leaves. “You witches play dangerous games, making bargains with demonsandthe fae.”

“It isnota bargain,” my grandmother said firmly, the radio crackling. “That must be very clear, Everly. You are not making a bargain; you are beseeching him for a blessing.” There was another crackle that sounded like a sigh. “As for the blood of the dead, resentfully given…”

“My father,” I said, ignoring the way my stomach churned. “Juniper is going to kill him on Halloween. He would resent his blood being used for this.” I swallowed hard, the taste of bile in my throat. “No one else should have to die.”

There was a moment of silence, and I was thankful for Callum’s hand on my back. Since Juniper had left, I’d done everything I could not to dwell on what she had to do. My father deserved what was coming to him.

But thinking about it made my chest feel hollow and cold.

Darragh rustled his branches, breaking the silence. “What about the blood of a lover then?” He waggled his leafy eyebrows. “I don’t exactly have blood in the traditional sense, but I’m happy to offer —”

“Darragh.” Callum’s voice was dry, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Stop talking.” His wing wrapped protectively around me. “I will sacrifice whatever you need.”

“Then it’s settled,” Winona said. “We wait for Halloween night and make our attempt. You will need a weapon upon which to perform this ritual; Callum, perhaps you could search the old armory. I’m sure there’s still many fine blades in there.”

Staring at the radio in surprise, I said, “This house has anarmory?” I’d explored many of the twisting halls and locked rooms over the past few weeks, but with every passing day, there was even more to discover.

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