Page 20 of The Crow Games

And I wouldn’t risk watching sisters torn apart. My heart wouldn’t tolerate it.

Resolved, I rested a hand on the hilt of my dagger. “I’ll do it.”

Spirit stirred in my chest, and my heart thudded heavily. A new pulse of pain pumped in my aching ankle. Nola may be a soldier, but I had the best fighting chance of any of us in single combat, even injured. This was my chance to prove to them that I could help. If they joined with me, we could do more than stay alive a while longer.

I was a gray witch—an out-of-practice gray who had spent too much time hiding herself—but there was no moment like the present to regain some of what I’d lost, to find myself once more.

“You’ve gone mad again, duck,” Nola said.

“I’m always a little mad, I think.” I offered her a small smile that she didn’t return.

Ruchel scowled. “When I sensed you’d be useful to us, I didn’t think it meant . . . I don’t like it, Maven. I didn’t drag you along with us to offer you up for slaughter now. We should roll for it. At least that way it’s in the fate weavers’ hands. Let the goddesses Wyrd and Norna decide who fights.”

“Doesn’t seem fair to play a chance game with a mind witch, though, does it?” Blue said, her torch flickering above her, cutting shadows down her sunken cheeks. “The new girl is willing to do it. I say we let her.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Nola snarled. “She’s not one of yours.”

“I’ll do it. But I have conditions,” I warned.

“Stand down, mad woman,” Nola ground out. “I don’t like it, duck. You should shut your trap and let us veterans handle this.”

“I may be new here, but I’m far more veteran than I appear,” I said sternly. “We form a true coven first. A blood oath will do best, and then I’ll step into that combat circle on our behalf.”

Ruchel snorted. “Oh, wait . . . you’re not joking?”

“Deadly serious,” I said.

Liesel’s little nose wrinkled. “Blood oaths? How archaic.”

I ignored their rumblings. What could they do but accept? Unless they wanted to risk facing the roaring Hel creature themselves.

“We’ll have to appoint a high witch first.” Blue returned her torch to the metal fixture on the wall. The image it illuminated was of Death’s crow ripping its own wing off. In the legend, the god Alrick ordered Death to tear himself in two so that he could fit inside the Otherworld after consuming too many stars.

“Blue has survived down here the longest,” Ruchel noted. “But Nola has the most combat experience of any of us.”

“Coven or not, I’d leave most of you for dead if it meant saving my ass, so don’t make me your high witch,” Nola said. “It needs to be you, Ruchel. You’re the only voice anyone should be listening to out here. Your instincts are our best shot at staying alive.”

“I’ll vow to you, Ruchel,” I said. “I’d vow to you gladly.”

She looked me over, from the messy state of my braid down to the swollen ankle tucked into my boot, and her scowl deepened. Her ochre eyes went glassy, throwing the torchlight. Her throat bobbed. “If anyone has a problem with me taking charge, you’d better speak up now.” She glared pointedly at Blue.

“If it gets this sordid business done, I’ll swear to you,” Emma said, and her younger sister echoed her agreement.

Blue’s flinty gaze settled briefly on the amulet hanging under Ruchel’s throat. “As long as it keeps me breathing,” she said softly, “I’ll swear to you.”

Ruchel pulled a thin silver blade from her belt. She ran it across her palm without flinching, letting the blood pool there in the creases. “I vow by my blood and by my magic to serve the good of my coven, to stand in unity with my sisters until Death ferries me to the life after.”

In the way of witches, we accepted her vow. “We hear you, sister,” we chanted. “Together we hold you to your word.”

Ruchel pressed her palm against the wall, just under the image of the broken crow, leaving a bloody print behind. Emma and Liesel went next, adding their essence to the same handprint. Then Nola and Blue. I went last, but before I added my palm to theirs, I ran my fingers over the bloodstains on my shirtwaist. Lisbeth was gone, but I wanted to make her part of my new coven too. Adding her blood to ours made that so.

“I vow,” I said with feeling, “by my blood and by my magic to serve the good of my coven, to stand in unity with my sisters until Death ferries me to the life after.”

In my head, Lisbeth’s voice echoed the words. As my new coven accepted us, a shadow fell over the mark we’d left behind. The blood on the wall coalesced and changed.

An image of a crow appeared in the darkening crimson stain.

“Oh fuck,” I groaned.

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