It wasn’t just her face. She could feel the first layer of her protection gone, shredded through by the dark, vicious energy that lined the space before her. When she looked up, eyes watering, she could make out the distortion in the air. Anger surged through her. If she’d paid more attention, she’d have seen that, but she’d been too eager to push forward, to get to Dayna. This was why emotions were dangerous. They made you reckless.
The thought was distant, a faint echo in the storm of rage. It didn’t matter. Broken noses didn’t matter, pain didn’t matter. All that mattered was Dayna.
She’d been such an idiot this morning. She wasn’t leaving town when this was over. Dayna was the only thing that made any of this bullshit worth it. She was the one good thing Meiner had, the only thing she hadn’t fucked up. Until this morning, until she’d almost broken that, too.
Cora’s voice came from behind her, exasperated. “Meiner, you complete muppet.”
Meiner said nothing, just stayed there in the center of the field, still reeling. Something was digging into her left knee, a rock, probably, but it was only a footnote to the pain in her face. She started as something brushed her cheek. Cora’s hands were cool, her slender fingers smoothing over Meiner’s brow, onto the bridge of her nose. She flinched, about to pull away, and then the pain began to recede, slowly at first, dulling a bit at a time. Then it was entirely gone, and her shoulders slumped in relief.
“It’s not fixed, but at least you won’t feel it for a few hours.”
Meiner stared up at her. She knew what sort of picture they made, her on her knees, her face a mask of blood. Cora standing over her, expression calm, determined. The clear leader.
How long had Cora been wishing for this?
She should have been grateful. The pain in her face was gone. In fact, she felt stronger, better than before. But with it came a slow, creeping feeling across her skin. Cora should not have been able to do that with a simple touch. Magic was rituals and chants and the slow, steady buildup of energy. What Cora had done was a small thing on the surface, but it shouldn’t have been possible. Not for her. She wasn’t even ascended yet.
Even as Meiner thought it, she realized it was wrong. Somehow she knew, just looking at Cora. At the shadows on her face, at the hungry light burning in her eyes. She had seen that look before, on Dayna’s face after the ceremony. It had both fascinated and disturbed her.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Meiner whispered, and she was surprised to hear her own voice break, to hear the hurt buried there. “You ascended.”
Cora didn’t speak, only continued to stare down at Meiner. She did not deny it.
When Meiner took a deep breath, it felt like her lungs were full of shattered glass.
The others had caught up, and still Cora said nothing, only offered Meiner a hand, which she took reluctantly. The other girl tugged her to her feet, lips pressed shut. The silence was as good as an admission. Cora did not look apologetic or ashamed, but she did flick Meiner a wary gaze, as if she were expecting her to say something.
Yes, it hurt. But it didn’t matter now. None of her previous worries mattered, about the coven, about becoming her grandmother. Grandma King was gone, and Dayna was still there, and Meiner would kill all three brothers to get to her. And if they’d done something to her, anything at all, she’d kill them for that, too.
Dayna was still alive. She had to be. Gods, let her be alive.
Brenna arrived, stretching out a hand, bracelets jangling faintly in the silence. “It’s down,” she said curtly.
Bronagh kept her voice low. “They know we’re coming. We spread out, half around one side, half around the other. We want them in our circle. Does everyone know the shield knot protection spell?”
It was the most basic of spells. Everyone nodded.
Faye turned a stern scowl on them. “Let us do the heavy lifting, just keep to the circle and send your protection over us.”
Nobody argued, though Meiner thought bitterly that she hated feeling so helpless, forced to stand back and let someone else save Dayna. She wanted to charge in and start swinging.
“We have no element of surprise,” Bronagh said. “But just keep walking, keep talking. We’ll surround them. Let’s go.” She started forward, and the way she moved was regal, as if she were making an entrance at a party, rather than walking over a dark field toward a massive stone tomb.
They followed, and Meiner pressed eagerly forward. She’d be the first one after the Callighans, she was determined, though Cora was matching her pace, apparently just as eager to get there. Meiner glanced sideways. The blond girl’s expression was hard and glittering. There was a smile playing on the edge of her lips. Meiner’s stomach turned. Cora wasn’t scared or worried: she was excited. She was anticipating this.
They split up, and Yemi, Reagan, and Faye disappeared around the side of the tomb.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, they rounded the side and the entrance came into sight. The brothers had set up their ritual to the left of the tomb.
The six-pointed hexagram, glistening and bone white in the silvery light, the bundles of oak leaves, the stone basin, the goblet of blood—it was not a ritual that Meiner had seen before, and yet, it was familiar somehow. The sight of it felt like lead weighing on her chest.
Two figures stood looking toward the center of the star, and one was turning to face them, but all Meiner could see was the figure crouched in the center of the hexagram. Dayna, her face bruised and dirt-smudged, her gray sweater falling off one shoulder. When she spotted them, her eyes went wide with alarm, and Meiner felt rage crash through her, molten hot. It mingled with the buzz in her system, with the magic lying dormant there, and she lifted her hands. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, maybe lunge forward and strangle the nearest man. Maybe throw a burst of uncontrolled magic.
Before she could do anything, Cora broke the line and hurtled forward.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CORA
It was the magic that drove her forward. As soon as the first figure, dark and broad-shouldered, his eyes glittering in their mask of blood, turned around and smiled, something deep in the pit of her stomach roared to life. The magic surged through her body, sending raw energy crashing through her. It begged to be released. Demanded.
The sensation drove all rational thought from her head, and she charged forward before they could stop her. Throwing up her hands, she let the power burst up and out. She heard the chaotic laughter of the goddess in her ears, and a rictus grin stretched her lips, an echo of Caorthannach’s mirth.
The bloody-faced man screamed as he was thrown, brought up short as his back met the nearest tree, folding his body into a U-shape with an ugly snap. He crumpled at the base of the trunk and did not get up.
Now that she was near enough, she could make out the hexagram—made of bones, she realized with a cold and terrible thrill—and Dayna within it. The objects on the points of the star, too: goblet, stone bowl, oak branches…
Grandma King’s words echoed in her ears: You’ll know the time when it comes.
Cora’s blood sang with recognition. She could already hear the chant in her head. The power battered against the insides of her skin. Everything was as it should be.
Now. This was it.