Page 66 of Her Blood Revenge

‘I know witch festivals. The earth coven gathers at their sacred fire tomorrow for the festival of Athir. From what I’ve heard, it’s a pretty dull affair. Lots of meditation and fasting. Seems a far cry from a festival to me, but witches are a strange lot.’

‘We are. As are witch killers who tried to screw abanshee while in wolf form.’ She nudges me with her elbow and rolls her eyes.

‘Fair point well made. So. You dreamt about the stars?’

‘I did. And fire in the sky and one of the bone archways… bleeding.’

‘Gross.’

‘Hmmm,’ she says distractedly. ‘Neve was there. Beneath the arch and speaking in a strange language. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like something else.’

‘Well, Shaw wasn’t walking with you. So it wasn’t him.’

‘It felt real. Like watching something happening through the reflection of a mirror.’ She chews on her lip with the cutest little concentration crease forming on her brow. ‘I have the awful feeling something is coming, Archie. It felt like a glimpse of what was to come.’

‘Like a premonition?’ I ask. ‘You think you had a vision?’

‘I’m not sure. I mean, I brought Neve back from the dead. I held her soul in my hands. I died her death. Perhaps a part of me is still connected to her. Like we’re linked. If she is planning something or practising a spell, perhaps I might feel it. I see their deaths. I saw Sinthia’s past. Perhaps I can see Neve’s plans for the future.’

‘I don’t know what to say to that,’ I admit, looking at her with growing apprehension.

I get struck with these sharp reminders of what she is. Of what she is capable of. All blood witches are evil. It’s the nature of their magic. Of where they get their powers from. Death. Blood. From their dark goddess, Hel.

She looks up at me, afraid. Seeking out some comfort from me because I know she doesn’t want to become dark. To become evil. But she isa blood witch, and denying that fact is futile. I know it. I think we all do. And she is so powerful I struggle even to comprehend it. A necromancer has command over the dead. The dying. The lost souls and their pain. She is the first one I have seen, but I have heard stories. Many, many stories.

And they terrify me.

‘You’re a rare thing. One of a kind. So much magic all encased in that beautiful little body of yours. Perhaps you are connected to Neve. But you can’t let that define you. You’re also connected to the earth. And to us.’

‘You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than convince me,’ she replies with a sad little laugh.

I slide my hands in my pockets, and we carry on stargazing.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I say before I get a chance to change my mind. ‘You might not like it.’

‘Tell me anyway.’

‘You heard me when I was a wolf.’

‘Yeah.’

‘No one has ever heard me in my wolf form before.’

‘No?’

‘No, Pix. Because only Mates can hear each other.’ I look at her, expecting to see shock or even anger. But she just has a slightly raised brow. ‘You’re not mad?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘I’ve fallen in love with you so hard, Pix, that your body has become bonded to mine. It’s rare, but it can happen. A wolf can become mated to someone outsideof their species.’

‘So that means I can hear you when you’re in your wolf form?’

‘Yeah. It means a fair bit, Pix.’

She doesn’t say anything else. She asks no questions. And I don’t offer up anything more because, if I’m honest, she should be a little more honoured than she is. Mating bonds are profound. Not something to brush off.

But I guess she is mortal. And doesn’t know our ways.

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