Broken Bonds by Keri Arthur

Chapter Thirteen

Isat bolt upright, my heart going a million miles an hour while my brain scrambled to catch up. Katie? You’ve really found the altar?

Yes. It’s in the St. Leonard’s forest area, just off one of the old walking tracks there.

I sent a quick message to Belle to get Monty out of bed and over here ASAP, and then hastily got dressed. That doesn’t sound like a very secure location. I thought it’d be more remote and deep in the forest.

Or even in a damn mine. There were plenty of those about.

It doesn’t need to be because few use the track, she replied. That particular area was so heavily mined that even wolves need prior approval to go in there these days. Experienced guides do caving and mining tours over summer, but in winter the area is deserted.

Which suggested the witch had done her research, and that the timing of her attacks were no mistake. I sat back down on the bed and tugged on my socks and boots. So will we need a guide?

No. I can guide you through the wild thread. You need to call it to you; this means of communication will drain us both too quickly otherwise.

I immediately did so. I take it you’re familiar with that area?

No, but through my connection with the wild magic, I can devise a safe path.

If I fall down a mineshaft, I’m going to be pissed.

I won’t let you fall down a shaft. She paused. And if you do, I’ll catch you.

Hate to tell you this, but you’re a soul locked to a wellspring. You can’t catch anything.

She laughed. I meant via the wild magic.

Thatdidn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence, given the ethereal nature of the wild magic. I swept up my phone and keys and headed out. There was a creak of springs, and then Beverly said softly, “Everything okay?”

“Yes. We finally have a lead on the witch who terrorized your sister. I’ve called in a friend and fellow witch—Belle—to keep an eye on things here, so if you hear a new voice, don’t panic.”

“I gather she doesn’t need to be let in?”

“No. She’s on her way over right now, so she’ll be here before I leave.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

I hadn’t actually intended to, so it was just as well she’d woken up. I padded down to the reading room and filled the backpack with absolutely every magical charm and blessed item and every bottle of holy water we had. I had absolutely no idea what it took to destroy an altar, so overkill was a must.

Gabe said overkill probably won’t be necessary if the dismantlement and cleansing spells are done correctly, but it also won’t hurt given what we’re dealing with.

Always better safe than sorry has become my motto of late. I zipped up the now overstuffed pack. The minute we start dismantlement, she’s going to know.

Yes, so speed is of the essence.

Speed often led to mistakes, in my limited experience. The growing closeness of Belle’s thoughts told me she and Monty were only seconds away, so I slung the pack over my shoulder and headed toward the front door.

Contact me when you near Argyle, Katie said, then her awareness retreated.

I unlocked the front door but didn’t move beyond the protections of the café’s magic until Monty—once again in Aiden’s truck—pulled up at the front. Belle jumped out, leaving the passenger door open as she strode across to me. “How’s Mrs. Rankin?”

“Asleep and snoring.”

“Just as well I’m not intending to sleep then.” She gripped my arm. “I know I keep saying this, but be careful out there.”

“Katie and Gabe will be with us. We’ll be fine.”

She groaned. “Will you stop tempting fate with proclamations like that?”

I grinned, squeezed her arm, and then ran over to the truck and climbed in.

“Where are we going?” Monty said as he pulled out into the empty street.

“Head for Argyle. Katie will give us more specific instructions once we get there. Gabe will help us disconnect whatever protection spells the witch might be running once we get close to the altar.”

“Gabe? The dead husband?”

“Who’s now a ghost and haunting the reservation. We did mention this, didn’t we?” To be honest, I couldn’t remember exactly what we’d told him. He knew about Katie, but not the second wellspring. Surely one of us must have mentioned Gabe in passing.

“Huh.” He glanced at me briefly. “I’ve a feeling there’s more to this story than what you’re saying.”

I shrugged. “There are many secrets in this reservation, and they’re not all mine to tell.”

He didn’t say anything, but his aura suggested annoyance. I had a bad feeling I’d just set him on an information hunt, and Monty was the type not to let go until he’d uncovered every little secret.

We turned onto the highway and sped down to Argyle. It didn’t take us as long as it would have during the day because the roads were all but empty, and Monty was once again making full use of lights and siren.

When we were a few minutes out, I reached out for Katie. Just heading into Argyle now.

At the roundabout, turn right, and follow that. When you reach St. Leonards—which is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town—slow down and then turn right at Barkstead Road. Contact me again, and I’ll guide you from there.

Her awareness departed again. Perhaps she was conserving both our strength. While I didn’t yet have a headache, the promise of one was definitely lurking.

I repeated the instructions to Monty, and he nodded. We drove through Argyle’s main retail sector at speed and followed the single lane road through the various twists, turns, and tiny towns. St. Leonards itself consisted of little more than six houses and a community hall. There wasn’t a shop or even a post office. Monty glanced at the GPS and then slowed down and swung right into Barkstead Road. I immediately reached for Katie.

Okay, she said, deepen the connection.

I obeyed. It felt rather weird, because it wasn’t just the telepathic link that strengthened but also a deepening of awareness and state. I was still me, but in many ways, I was also sharing all that I was with her—and vice versa. I also suspected it was this connection—one we’d done previously—that was responsible for the physical changes in me.

“Take the right fork up ahead,” we said. “And kill the lights and sirens.”

Monty did so, then shot me an alarmed look. “What’s happening? You sound … strange.”

“Katie is with me, guiding me.” This time, the reply was mine.

“How is that possible when you’re not the one capable of spirit communing?”

“Long story, but it’s happening through the wild magic.” I paused, then we added, “The road gets rough and narrow up ahead. You need to slow.”

He obeyed, then swore and wrenched the truck sideways to avoid a wombat that decided to stroll out in front of us. We skidded for several seconds before he brought it back under control.

The sheer thickness of the surrounding forest meant it was completely black out here; even if the moon had been out tonight, it was doubtful it would have helped all that much. The headlights, even on high beam, certainly weren’t piercing the gloom too successfully. As for the road, well, rough and narrow was a definite understatement.

Katie retreated from our connection once again, briefly easing the physical toll on us both, but returned a few minutes later. We said, “Left-hand turn coming up. It’s a tight fit.”

Monty slowed and then, as the headlights picked out the turn, said, “That’s not a fucking road—it’s a walking track.”

“The truck will fit.”

He gave us a disbelieving look, slowed to a crawl, and carefully eased onto the smaller track. Branches scraped the side of the truck, and the trees were way too close for my liking, but we did fit.

We continued on at a snail’s pace, Monty carefully guiding the truck down a path that was never designed for a vehicle this size.

After what seemed like forever but was probably only a couple of minutes, Katie’s presence surged again, and we said, “Here. Stop here.”

He did so, but didn’t immediately turn off the truck, leaving the engine running and the headlights on while he studied the surrounding trees. “It’s goddamn black out there. Even with flashlights, it’ll be easy to get lost or fall down a mine.”

“We won’t let that happen.”

He glanced at me, expression uncertain, then turned off the truck and climbed out. I did the same and swung the backpack over my shoulders and waited while he collected his pack from the back of the truck.

“Here,” he said, offering me a flashlight.

“We don’t need it. The wild magic guides us.”

He dumped it on top of the hood instead of returning it to the rear of the truck. “Yeah, well, I’ll still keep one. We may need it for the return journey.”

“Oh, we definitely will,” I said. “This merger is going to knock the hell out of both Katie and me, and I very much doubt either of us will be in any sort of position to guide us out.”

Hell, I might not even be conscious.

“Then I’ll pay close attention to where we’re going.”

Given he had very human eyes and senses, and the trees in place were a maze of similarly unremarkable trunks, we seriously doubted he’d succeed. But we held our tongue and, when he motioned us forward with a sweep of his hand, moved on.

Follow this path for five minutes, Katie said.

I glanced down and saw we were indeed on a track—one used by roos rather than humans, but a track nevertheless.

Her presence withdrew again, and I sucked in a deeper breath that did little to ease the slowly gathering ache in my head or the fear in my heart. But then, it was likely nothing would—not until we’d taken care of the witch who held the hone-onna’s leash.

And maybe even the hone-onna herself.

Though it was inky-black amongst the trees, I had no trouble seeing. Katie’s presence, however remote it currently was, had heightened my senses again. It was testament to just how far my sensory changes had to go before they truly reached that of a wolf.

When the five minutes were up, Katie came back online. We’re close to it now, but don’t send out any sort of magical probe—she’s laid intrusion spells.

I stopped so fast, Monty had to do a quick side step to avoid me.

“The altar’s just up ahead,” I said. “But there’s a network of warning spells between us and it.”

He quickly scanned the area. “I’m not picking up anything just yet.”

“Gabe says it’s off to the left and its output is shielded,” we said. “We can’t risk a probe, and we won’t see or hear it until we’re almost on it.”

If Gabe now haunted our connection, it would explain its sudden heaviness—and why my energy was fading at a faster rate.

I’m here if you need to syphoncame Belle’s comment.

Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Or until you’re almost dead, she grumbled, because you’re a pigheaded, stubborn woman.

Takes one to know one, I replied, amused.

Concentratecame Katie’s soft rebuke. Or Gabe’s. It was hard to know which right now. It gets dangerous from here.

I sucked in another of those useless breaths and then slowly moved to the left, letting her senses guide me. After a few minutes, a very soft, somewhat irritating hum became evident.

“Hear that?” I said, glancing at Monty.

He nodded. “Its resonance suggests it’s an alarm spell of some kind.”

“Would she have used blood magic in its construction?”

“I’d have thought that overkill, but I’m also not a dark witch.”

We’d only gone another couple of feet when the hum abruptly cut off. I didn’t need Katie’s sharp warning to stop. At first glance, there was no sign of a spell. It wasn’t until I dropped my gaze and saw a slight shimmer that I realized the spells had been placed very low to the ground and were protected not only by scrub and rocks, but also by a covering spell. It had been so well constructed that the unwary—or those in a hurry—might not have even noticed it until they’d stumbled through it.

Monty squatted and studied the shimmer for several very long seconds. “I can’t see much thanks to that cover spell, but from the feel of it, it’s going to take some strength to dismantle.”

“You won’t be dismantling it,” we said. “You’re the one with the knowledge and the means to cleanse and destroy the altar. We should handle this.”

He shot me another of those incredulous glances. “I’m not sure—”

I reached out and grasped his arm. “Monty, you can’t do everything, especially when you need to be fully powered to counter whatever protection measures our dark witch has around her altar.”

He grimaced but didn’t disagree. “So your plan is what, exactly? Because we both know that while you have the power, you don’t have the knowledge to counter something like this.”

“Gabe is going to partially merge with me. It’ll allow him to see the spells clearly so he can guide me through dismantlement.”

“Isn’t merging with a spirit dangerous? What does it actually involve?”

“It’s really not all that much different to me sharing sensory awareness with Belle. And she’ll be in the background, keeping an eye on things. She’ll split us if it becomes necessary.”

He drew in a breath and released it slowly; it failed to budge the concern in his expression. “So, back to the current problem. I suspect there’re multiple alarms woven into this bloody spell.”

“Yes, but Gabe is confident we can get around them all.”

“I hope that confidence isn’t misplaced.”

So did I. I hesitated, caught by a moment of uncertainty, and then firmly reached out to Gabe. As Katie’s presence faded into the background, his energy flooded the link and fused with mine. As before, it wasn’t so deep that his spirit shared body space, but he could use his skill and direct my magic while seeing through my eyes.

And it still felt fucking weird. Felt like I was present in my body and yet standing apart.

You remain in control, Gabe said, I’ll only intervene as necessary.

I knew that, but it didn’t really help. Not before; not now.

I pushed the fear aside and concentrated on the spell that blocked our path. After a moment, we said, “Our best option isn’t to dismantle the entire spell; it would take too much time and risk her becoming aware of our presence here. Instead, we’ll just remove the cover spell and peel back the first five or six layers of the main spell. That should allow us to step over it without triggering it.”

Monty nodded and motioned us to proceed. With Gabe’s presence weighing on me heavily and guiding my actions, I carefully reached out and plucked the cover spell’s initiating thread free. It felt foul—unclean—and my skin crawled. She might not have used blood magic in the construction of these layers, but it nevertheless stained her presence and her spells. And that suggested she’d been playing on the dark side for a very long time.

It took us five minutes to disconnect the cover spell, and its removal revealed the true complexity of the main one.

Monty sucked in a breath. “Fuck me.”

“You’re my cousin,” I murmured absently. “It may be legal, but it would also be icky.”

Monty snorted but otherwise didn’t reply. Gabe studied the spell for several seconds and a wave of deep admiration washed through our thoughts. I could totally understand why—this spell was rich and deep, with a complex range of exclusions woven through it. Not only would no animal or bug trigger it, but it also treated regular humans different to witches and wolves. It would have taken her at least twenty-four hours to construct—if not longer—and meant Gabe had been right in wanting to avoid complete dismantlement. We simply didn’t have the same luxury of time.

We reached out again, plucked the first thread free, and began to spell, the words falling silently from my lips, foreign and unknown. The initial layers were easy enough to detach and weave back through the threads lower down, but the deeper into the spell we got, the harder and more delicate the process became. Sweat trickled down the side of my face, but I didn’t dare swipe at it. One wrong movement—hell, even breathing the wrong way right now—could prove disastrous.

Thankfully, the hum of the overall spell never altered, but by the time the initial trigger points had been dealt with, the little men with the hot pokers were back in business inside my head.

“Done,” we said and pushed upright. “But let us go first, just in case.”

I carefully stepped over the still-pulsing alarm spell, my breath catching deep in my throat and my heart galloping along so fast I swore it was about to tear out of my chest. Thankfully, the warning spell didn’t so much as flicker. I glanced back at Monty. He followed me over the spell, echoing my movements precisely.

Again, no reaction.

Relief stirred, but it was Gabe’s more than mine. Obviously, despite his outward confidence, he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure the partial detachment would work.

And that relief might yet be misplaced. We were—magically and physically—a long way from being out of the woods just yet.

We continued on, our pace by necessity slow and careful. Only a few minutes further on, we came across a second alarm spell. I repeated the rerouting process, then swiped at the sweat stinging my eyes.

“I hope that’s the last of them, because at this rate, I’m not going to have the strength to raise my own protection circle.”

“You will,” Monty said. “I have complete faith.”

As have we,came Gabe’s comment. And you forget, I am with you, and I see what you cannot.

Are we talking physical strength? Magic? Or something else entirely?

All. But now is not the time.

That was Katie, and, as before, she sounded altogether too much like her brother. Again the sadness stirred, but I ignored it and pushed on cautiously. There were no further alarm spells and nothing in the way of traps. Which didn’t mean they wouldn’t be here; we just hadn’t sprung them yet.

The altar is fifty yards ahead, in a small clearing, Gabe said. I suggest Monty create an outer protection circle while you do an inner one.

Why not the other way around?

Because your circle will be the stronger of the two, thanks to the wild magic, Gabe said. Let her waste time and energy dismantling Monty’s circle before she gets to yours.

But will the infusion of wild magic be enough to stop her?

That is an unknown, simply because up until now, no witch has ever been able to use the wild magic in the way you can.

As far as we knew, anyway. It was possible, given the title of the book Eli was currently reading, that they had in the past. For reasons unknown, they’d not only stopped the practice but basically buried the knowledge.

I repeated Gabe’s suggestion to Monty. He nodded and said, “Are there any more spells layered between us and the clearing?”

“There is one protecting the altar,” we said. “But that’s it.”

“Then we’d better pick up the pace before she gets wise that something is happening.”

“It’ll take her time to get through this forest,” I said.

“She’s a dark witch. She can use a demonic form of transport. Or just send her creature.”

Of the two, instinct suggested the second option was probably the safer. Instinct was obviously a little high on something.

The clearing was something of a mini amphitheater, with the steep but grassy sides running down to a flat, stony base. The altar had been placed in the middle of this and was very simply constructed—the two tall sturdy stones at either end supporting the black altar stone.

The stone isn’t naturally blackcame Gabe’s comment. It’s been stained that way over countless years by her sacrifices.

Why on earth would she be dragging a heavy stone altar around with her? Why wouldn’t she just create a new one at each location?

It may have some special significance to her. Perhaps after years of use, it has a resonance and power of its own, he replied. Moving it would not be all that much of a problem to someone as powerful magically as she.

I shivered and rubbed my arms, but it did little against the ice now gathering in my veins. The night was bitterly cold, but that ice was born from the fear that the three of us would not be enough to stop this witch.

Monty stopped beside me and swung off his backpack. Once he’d retrieved his spell stones, he said, “I’ll run my circle around the edge of the clearing, as suggested. Do you want to start yours ten feet in and work in the opposite direction?”

I nodded, swung off my backpack, and tugged the small silk bag containing my spell stones free from the front pocket. These particular ones were rough-cut clear quartz; while Monty and most royal witches tended to use diamonds, quartz was cheaper and yet possessed very similar properties.

I tipped the stones into my palm and began the careful process of creating a protection circle. While Ashworth had taught me to make one without using these stones as an anchor, it wasn’t one of my stronger spells and probably wouldn’t last three seconds against this witch.

I placed each stone carefully, attached a multi-layered protection spell onto it, and then looped it back to the previous two stones—something I hadn’t done before simply because I hadn’t thought of it. I was only doing so now thanks to Eli saying during a conversation on protection circles that it helped strengthen the circle while stopping the possibility of breakage due to one stone being kicked out of line.

Once all the stones were lashed together, I added a glimmer spell to ensure I could find them all again, then stepped back and waited for Monty. He completed his circle a few seconds later and then activated it; the wave of his magic was so fierce and strong, it briefly burned my skin. He nodded in obvious satisfaction and moved down the hill toward me. Once he’d passed the line of my stones, I activated my circle but didn’t entirely close it off, as Monty had his. I had a bad feeling I’d need to throw more strength into it before this nightmare was over.

Good circlecame Gabe’s comment. It’ll be interesting just how well the infusion of your personal wild magic copes against the power of a dark witch.

If it doesn’t cope, we’re all going to be in deep shit.

Well, Monty and I were, at any rate. It wasn’t like the witch could actually harm either of them.

I turned and followed Monty down the hill. The circle around the altar was visible and fairly simple looking, which had all sorts of alarms going off. After the complexity of the boundary alarms, why wouldn’t she throw every spell in her armory at protecting the one item she could not afford to lose?

Monty obviously had come to the same conclusion, because he stopped a few meters short of the circle and crossed his arms.

“I’m not liking the look of that.”

“No.” I followed the line of threads around the island of stone. At the back of the altar—where she would have stood to bleed her sacrifice—there was a vague shimmer. It wasn’t magic. It was something else.

An imp,Gabe commented.

Imps—or sprites, as they were commonly known—were lesser demons and were generally more mischievous than dangerous. They did have a tendency to throw things around, but there wasn’t much in the way of debris around here for them to pick up and use.

Why would it be here? It’s not like they’re great guardians or anything.

Might be a messenger.

Of course. A witch strong enough to leash a hone-onna would easily be able to bend a sprite to her will.

I glanced over to Monty. “There’s a sprite being held in the circle.”

He wrinkled his nose. “No doubt primed to warn its master once we dismantle the circle.”

And our protection circles had been designed to keep things out, not in.

“Can you stop it?”

“Either of us could, but the question is, should we bother?”

I frowned. “The longer she takes to realize we’re here, the better it’ll be for us.”

“The minute I begin the cleansing ritual, she’s going to know. Why waste energy when it’ll only save us a few minutes?”

A few minutes could be the difference between life and death, but I didn’t bother arguing the point. “I’ll dismantle it then, while you get everything ready for the ritual.”

He nodded and then squatted next to his pack, carefully unpacking his athame, holy water, salt, and various other bits and pieces.

I drew in a shaky breath that only invigorated the poker-bearing idiots in my head, and then began—with Gabe basically watching over my shoulder—to dismantle the final protection circle.

The minute the final thread fell, the imp screamed and shot away, heading for the tree line and darkness. Both circles shimmered as it went through but didn’t otherwise react.

The countdown had begun.

Time was now of the essence.

Monty stepped forward and began the cleansing ritual. Just for an instant, I thought I heard a deep, horrified scream, and my gaze shot northward, searching the treetops and the sky beyond. Which was ridiculous, of course. Witches were capable of many things, but flying wasn’t one of them. Not even via a broomstick.

Via demons, however? That was an entirely different prospect in this particular case.

Another scream, closer than before.

She was on her way.

And she was furious.

The ice in my veins grew stronger. I didn’t want the confrontation that was coming, but I had no choice.

You’re not alone, Gabe reminded me. I’ll be here.

Another statement meant to comfort that really didn’t. “You have five minutes, if that, before she hits us, Monty.”

He didn’t answer, but he did hear me, because he nodded as he slowly moved around the base of the altar, cleansing from the bottom up.

I watched him for several seconds, then swung around and marched up the hill. When I was ten feet away from my circle, I sat down and removed my shoes and socks. Neither Katie nor I could risk using the wild magic now, but there was one other way I could connect to the earth’s magic without it being obvious. I’d done it a couple of times before—once to summon a wisp, and the other to track a missing wolf, though the latter had ripped the hell out of my strength.

I rose and dug my toes into the soft soil. There was a surge of power and heat, and suddenly I could feel the witch—feel her heavy steps on the ground. She was coming from Argyle’s direction, running with unnatural speed, a dark and bloody storm that would break all over us in little more than a couple of minutes.

And she wasn’t alone.

The hone-onna was with her. And while that wasn’t unexpected, it did complicate things.

No, Gabe said. It doesn’t. It actually works to our advantage.

And how did you come to that grand conclusion? I picked up my pack and began emptying its contents, placing the various charms, blessed items, and the bottles of holy water in separate clusters for easy, last-minute, last-stand grabbing.

Controlling her creature will take focus and energy. The minute she loses either, the hone-onna will attack.

I’m thinking this witch won’t be that stupid.

That depends entirely on how much of a problem we are to her.

I guess it did. I pulled out both Belle’s and my silver knives. They’d been blessed with holy water, so if I did have to use them to protect Monty or myself, they’d create a wound that would never heal. Of course, they’d also kill, but given my lack of experience when it came to using a knife defensively, I was more likely to stab myself in a battle than her.

I hadn’t brought my athame—there was no way known I was about to foul her blade with the blood of a dark witch or even that of a dark spirit.

I braced my feet, toes burrowing into the ground again to ensure a constant flow of location data, and waited.

The dark wash of foul fury drew closer and closer, until her every step vibrated through me.

I flexed my fingers against the knife hilts, trying to ease some of the tension. It didn’t help.

The dark witch burned through the first of her alarm spells. I tried to remain calm, but my heart raced so fast, it felt like one long scream.

I had no idea where the hone-onna was, because the dark witch’s presence was all-consuming. But they’d obviously split up; no doubt they intended to hit our circles from two directions.

The witch burned through the second of her alarm spells. I shifted my feet, bracing as much as I could against what was to come.

Then she hit.

Hard.

Monty’s circle bent around her body, shimmering fiercely before it rebounded and tossed her back. She screamed and began to spell, her hands moving so fast they were a blur. Or maybe that had nothing to do with the speed of her movements but rather the spell that was shielding her outline.

Another scream, this time from behind me. I didn’t turn. I knew it was the hone-onna. Knew she was tearing at the spell, seeking to weaken it with both magic and a physical attack. Monty’s circle pulsed brightly, each blow shimmering across the thread layers. They held.

For now.

We need to attack her, Gabe said. We need to give Monty as much time as possible.

I nodded, and his presence strengthened once again. The spell we created was a more complicated version of the repelling spell I often used. When it was done, we raised my hand and unleashed it. The witch saw it; she was always going to see it, because we made no attempt to hide it. But as she unleashed a foul-feeling counterspell, ours split, one portion smashing into her counter while the other went under and arrowed on, hitting her hard in the chest. It flung her off her feet and dragged her deep into the trees.

But not far enough. Nowhere near far enough.

We swung around, created another repelling spell, and cast it at the hone-onna. The dark spirit had more than enough time to see it, more than enough time to counter, but she did neither. She simply let the full force of our spell hit and cast her far away.

Because she didn’t want me or Monty, and she certainly didn’t want to stop the destruction of the altar.

She wanted the witch. Badly.

The leash, I said to Gabe. We need to destroy the leash.

If the leash is tied to the altar, we can’t. Not until the altar is destroyed.

How would we know? I studied the altar through narrowed eyes. I couldn’t see anything, but then, I wasn’t really sure what I was actually looking for. Gabe?

It would resemble a twined rope of magic, possibly black or bloody red in color, he said.

I’m not seeing anything like that.

No.

The fall of fouled steps on earth vibrated up my legs. I spun, saw a blur of movement, then felt the burn of the spell that she’d flung at Monty’s circle. I threw up a hand, instinctively protecting my eyes as the two collided. There was a pause as the two magics wrestled for supremacy, the hum of energy getting louder, stronger, until it was all I could feel and all I could hear. Then they exploded, lighting the sky with flashes of silver and purple. When the light faded, Monty’s circle was gone. All that remained was the faintly glowing spots of his spell stones.

Which only left my circle between destruction and us.

The explosion did have one good side effect though—it had blasted away her covering spell. We could see the bitch now. Aside from the puckered and ugly scar down her cheek, she really could have been an older version of me. No wonder the hone-onna had attacked me.

She strode toward me, her fingers moving at speed as she wove another spell. I had no idea what it was, but it looked and felt damnably nasty.

My gaze dropped, and that was when I saw the thick leash of red and black spell threads attached to her wrist.

That, Gabe said heavily, will take some undoing. I’m not sure we have the time.

We have to try.

Yes. He paused. We need dual attention. I can spell, but you’ll have to keep an eye on what’s happening.

Before I could reply, she unleashed her spell. It hit my circle like a hammer, and it was obvious she intended to smash her way through my spell just as she had Monty’s.

The intertwined threads of the circle gave ground to the blow and then rebuffed it. The force of both reverberated through my body and my brain, and for an instant, everything blurred.

I sucked in air and swiped at the moisture dribbling over my lashes. And yet despite the deep desire to avoid the brutal resonance of another blow, I didn’t detach myself from the circle. The sheer strength of that first attack very much confirmed my earlier suspicion. I would have to push more energy into it before this fight was over.

Magic surged again, this time from behind. The hone-onna was back and joining in on the fun, even if unwillingly. Her blow sent another shudder through me, and I stumbled several steps before catching my balance again.

We had to break the goddamn leash.

The echoes of the spirit’s attack had barely eased when the witch cast another. The bending in my circle was deeper this time, but it nevertheless repelled the would-be destroyer and remained intact.

But for how long?

Gabe?

Drop to the ground, he said. Call on the earth to reinforce you if you need. I’ll see what I can do about that leash.

I dropped onto my knees, placed the knives on the ground in front of me, then quickly grabbed a bottle of holy water and poured it in a rough circle. If my circle fell, the holy water circle might be the only thing standing between destruction and me.

Gabe began to spell. Again, I had no idea what it was, but the threads of magic that formed in front of me were complex and multilayered. The witch screamed, but this time, it held a note of … not fear, but certainly consternation. She knew what the spell was; knew what we were now attempting.

The force of the attacks heightened. My body shook and shuddered under every blow, but I kept my bloody gaze on the leash, watching, waiting, for something to happen as the strength of Gabe’s spell increased.

The first thread in my circle gave way. The force of it rebounded through me, and I gasped, doubling over briefly.

I must see!Gabe shouted, the order echoing through every part of me.

My lungs were burning, my heart screaming, and my head felt ready to explode. I thrust my fingers deep into the soil, drawing on the strength of the earth—not to bolster the circle but rather me. If I didn't hang on, we wouldn’t win. Monty was still spelling behind us, the ritual words filling the air with power. He hadn’t even begun the spell that would permanently shatter the altar.

As the deep, wild warmth of the earth’s magic flooded my system, my vision cleared, and I opened my eyes, staring resolutely at the witch. Just for an instant, her eyes widened, though I doubted it was fear. She was too far lost in darkness to ever fear someone like me.

Another thread in my circle snapped.

I didn’t close my eyes. Didn’t react. I just concentrated on the witch, on the bloody black threads that bound her to the creature who screamed and spelled behind us.

Gabe’s magic climbed toward a peak. As another spell line collapsed on my circle, he unleashed it.

For an instant, nothing happened.

Then the witch screamed again, and the thread around her wrist began to burn. One thread disintegrated, then another, then another. Hope shot through me. It was working. It was goddamn working …

The witch produced a knife, sliced into her opposite wrist, and began to spell.

Blood magic.

Another thread in the leash holding the hone-onna at bay disappeared, but it was happening far too slowly. If she finished that blood spell, we were done. I knew that. More importantly, Gabe knew that.

We had one choice. One hope.

We sucked in a breath and then scooped up my silver knife and cast one of the very first spells they’d taught us in school—a simple spell to transport an object.

We wrapped it around the knife, then, with a faint prayer to any god that might be listening, I punched a hole through my protection circle, and we cast the spell.

The knife tore from my grasp, sped through the hole, and arrowed toward the witch. She was so wrapped up in her own spell that she didn’t sense the knife’s approach until the very last moment. She threw up her hand—the hand with the leash attached—as if to ward off the knife and protect her heart, but that had never been our target.

With one quick, brutal blow, the magic-enhanced silver knife sliced through flesh and muscle and bone even as it fused blood vessels.

She couldn’t bleed out. Not if we wanted to get rid of the hone-onna.

The detached limb dropped inelegantly to the ground. For an instant, the witch didn’t seem to notice, and her spelling didn’t falter.

But with the leash no longer attached to a viable limb, the red and black threads withered and died. With them went any control the witch had over her creature.

The hone-onna screamed. This time, it wasn’t anger; it was anticipation.

The sound must have cut through the witch’s concentration, because her spell faltered. Her gaze snapped to the hand lying on the ground and then rose to mine. “Well played, little witch.”

Her voice was calm. Accepting. Everything I hadn’t been expecting.

She closed her eyes and waited. But not for long. The hone-onna hit her, tore into her, giving her no chance and no hope. She sucked the witch’s life away even as she tore her apart. Then, as her soul rose from the bloody remnants of her flesh, the hone-onna consumed that as well.

A brutal end. A fitting end.

I closed the gap in my protective circle, then sat back on my heels and waited. For several minutes, the hone-onna didn’t move.

Then she stirred—something I felt through my connection with the earth rather than saw.

“You help free.” Her harsh voice rang with a mix of surprise and appreciation. “I hold deal. I leave this place, return to the city.”

And with that, she was gone.

From this forest, from the area, from the reservation.

Behind me, Monty’s magic peaked, and the altar crashed to the ground, shattering into a hundred different pieces, never to be reformed or reused.

Against all the odds, we’d not only survived but succeeded.