Page 14 of Ivy & Bone

Just before they reached the front door, it burst open, and a wild-haired, blue-eyed woman appraised them. The delicate nose and full lips matched the witch’s, and Cyrus assumed this was her mother.

“Prudence!” the older woman breathed in relief, sweeping her in her arms. “Thank the Goddess.”

Prudence. Cyrus wrinkled his nose. No wonder the witch had been so reluctant to give her name. It was horrendous.

Slowly, the woman’s gaze strayed to Cyrus, who was still stark naked. Her eyes lifted to his horns, and her expression hardened into something fierce.

“Get behind me,” she hissed to her daughter.

But Prudence didn’t move. “I summoned him.”

Her mother went still. “You . . . what?”

“I don’t have time to explain! But the spirits are here because of him. And I have to send him back. Do we have a map?”

But the older witch still stared at Cyrus with unrelenting fury. Something in him prickled with awareness. This woman was powerful, too. Like her daughter.

Who would have thought this stinking fish town possessed so much power? Perhaps Cyrus had stumbled on a treasure trove.

“Mama!” Prudence snapped. “I need a map!”

Her mother finally swiveled back to look at Prudence. “Follow me.”

Prudence obeyed, and Cyrus made to follow, but some invisible barrier slammed into him, sending him stumbling backward. “What the—”

“You. Stay.” The older witch jabbed a finger at him threateningly.

“But I—”

“My home is warded against foul demons like you. If I let you through, I let the spirits through. Now stay.”

“I am the god of the Underworld,” Cyrus growled. “I have more power than you could ever dream of. And you dare to command me?”

The woman lifted her chin, unfazed by his words. “Yes. I do. I am the Mother of this coven, and it is my duty to protect my people from the likes of you.”

For a long, tense moment, they stared each other down, neither one willing to give in. Only when Prudence tugged urgently on her mother’s hand did she finally break contact and disappear into the house.

Cyrus slammed his fist against the door frame, his teeth bared in frustration. Once again, he searched within himself for those black flames, the well of power he often tapped into. But only a flicker of smoke remained. That witch—Prudence—had drained him completely. The conniving bitch. Cyrus would gut her as soon as he got the chance, bond or no. No one tampered with his magic and got away with it.

It didn’t take long for Prudence and her mother to return, the former clutching a stack of parchment and the latter carrying a bowl that emitted steam. The sweet, fruity scent of whatever she held stung Cyrus’s nostrils, and he recoiled from the intensity of it.

“Show me, Cyrus,” Prudence said, crouching and spreading the parchment on the ground. “Show me where Faidon is.”

“Faidon?” Her mother’s face paled. “Goddess . . .”

“Polina!” cried a voice.

The older woman turned at the approach of another witch, this one thinner and darker-skinned. She stood a few inches taller than the first as they embraced each other. The newcomer took in Cyrus’s appearance, her eyes widening slightly. But, to her credit, she did not address him, turning instead to Polina and taking her shoulders. “The Book of Eyes, it’s gone.”

Polina sighed, closing her eyes. “I know.”

“You—you know?”

“It’s in Faidon,” Prudence said impatiently. “Cyrus, now.”

Cyrus had half a mind to strike her for speaking to him that way. “Why should I help you?” he snarled.

“You want to get home, don’t you?” Prudence shot back. “I thought we’d been through this. We both need to get to the Underworld.”

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