Page 27 of The Crow Games

All at once the breath rushed out of me. “Now that you both seem less intent on murdering me, there’s something else I should tell you . . . Don’t panic, but that’s not a knife in your hand, Winola.”

She lifted the braided pastry suddenly clutched between her fingers. It was covered in my silvery magic. “What in Hel?” She sniffed at it.

“When you woke me in such an abrupt fashion, my spirit overreacted. It grabbed hold of your consciousnesses and pulled your minds inside mine,” I explained. Though Nola appeared to be standing, I still felt her weight pinning me to the mattress. Her body drooled on my neck. The actual knife had fallen somewhere between the sheets.

Spirit and consciousness were two sides of the same coin. Lisbeth had a bad habit of possessing the bodies of others with hers, but I’ve always been more inclined to do the opposite in those rare moments when I was drastically caught off-guard.

“Sacred Crone,” Ruchel breathed, and the puncture on her cheek vanished. I didn’t like seeing her hurt.

Nola brought the bread up toward her mouth, inspecting it. It looked like the braided Ashkish pastry I’d feasted on earlier. It was so delicious some part of me was still dwelling on it.

“Don’t eat it,” I warned her. “You might wake up having chewed on your fingers.”

Or on me, considering how close her mouth was to my face at that moment. They were lucky I was so depleted it was only their consciousnesses my magic grabbed and not their souls. Consciousness was weaker than spirit but flexible and more accustomed to wandering. Severing their mortal souls was not something I could have fixed.

Behind them, the walls glittered brilliantly and changed. Ruchel turned in a circle, taking in the transformation.

We were no longer in a sleeper car. The room resembled my old apartment in Kosh. Behind them, Lisbeth’s bed sat, the sheets turned back, a dent in the pillow from where her head had recently rested. One of her favorite earrings remained on her nightstand, missing its match just like I now was forever missing mine.

My eyes stung.

Lisbeth and I shared the same divine father. I almost never heard from the louse. Then twenty years ago he’d dropped in out of the blue to tell me I had a little sister by some poor mortal woman who needed my help. He was too busy doing as he pleased to assist, and my life was forever changed.

“If you truly mean us no harm, then you’ll keep answering our questions,” Ruchel said.

“I’ll do my best,” I croaked around the lump growing in my throat.

Nola bent over me to skim a finger along the chain at my neck, the softshinkof the delicate metal a whisper in my ear. “This amulet, where’d you get it?”

That was a loaded question indeed. I stole a long breath, borrowing myself some time to organize my thoughts.

“I’ve seen ones like yours before,” Ruchel pressed, squeezing her torch amulet in her palm. “The originals that belonged to the first priestesses of Fria are kept under strict lock and key at the temple of God King Alrick. They’re relics. Powerful ones. Warlocks kill for them, and warlords have gone to battle just to hold one. Mine is a simple replica, but yours appears very old. I would know. Taking care of artifacts like that one was part of my job.”

“It’s old because I’m old,” I said, tone level. It was a bit of a relief to finally have it out in the open, to be able to speak freely.

They shared a look between them, brows furrowed.

“How old?” Ruchel demanded.

“Ancient,” I said. “I don’t think anyone keeps track after the first century or two. A millennium ago, the common calendar system drastically changed—you reminded me of it when you read to me earlier—so there’s that issue as well. I couldn’t tell you correctly how old I am.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Nola breathed. “A millennium?”

I shrugged. “Two or three depending on your calendar of choice.”

“Were you . . . ?” Ruchel’s words softened into something reverent. “Maven, are you saying you’re one ofFria’switches?”

“The very first one.” I lifted the amulet high for her inspection. It shone in the false lantern light.

“By the Crone’s saggy tits,” Nola gasped. “Don’t sell me a dog here, Maven. Be truthful.”

“She’s not lying,” Ruchel whimpered. Her hand came forward, fingers outstretched. She stopped just short of touching the bronze. Her arm dropped back to her side. “The goddess of magic owned this? She wore it?”

I nodded. “You sensed I would be useful to you, Ruchel. Remember? So use me but don’t fear me. We’re on the same side here. We’re a coven now.”

“Coven of crones,” Nola teased. “I may not be as old as you in years, but the trials make me feel just as ancient.”

I snorted a laugh. “Coven of ruthless bitches who are going to get the Hel out of these games. Together. Come what may.” Then all the mirth died out of my tone. “I know you’re frightened of me, but we have a common need here. I broke my way into the Otherworld after Lisbeth was murdered. You could help me break usout.”

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