Sybil grabs it from Esme’s hand and cuts a small line across her palm. “Anything,” she says with conviction.
Esme grabs the knife next and makes a small incision as well. She holds it out, looking between Clover and me. Clementine reaches for it first. Before Clover can stop her, she makes a cut and holds the pocket knife out.
“We said we’d fight for a coven—a family—and Archer is a part of that,” she says. “It’s not a question, Lo.”
Her sister stares at her for a moment with a mix of awe and fear, but she takes the knife and repeats the process. When she hands it to me, I grab it without hesitation and do the same.
When I catch Renata’s eye, she’s looking around the circle with a deep level of appreciation. Clementine was right; we’re a coven and a family now. I’d do anything to save either of them.
“It’ll be better if we all harness our magic into Archer rather than let me siphon your power,” Renata says.
She doesn’t look certain, but it makes enough sense to me. I reach forward and place my cut hand on his neck. The direct contact is better than through his clothes, especially because I don’t think any of us want to cut his body more than necessary, like on his palm Renata will hold.
Once we each have one hand on Archer, our other hands are placed on the knee of whoever is next to us, creating a circle of magic to transfer between all of us. Renata says the incantation.
“Accipe sanguinem meum, vim vitalem magicam. Spiritus et corpus iterum unum fiunt.”
When Renata finishes, she looks at me—so I say it once by myself.
“Accipe sanguinem meum, vim vitalem magicam. Spiritus et corpus iterum unum fiunt.”
In a circle, the other witches do the same until it gets back to Renata.
With a nod, she silently directs us to chant it together now. Closing our eyes, we concentrate on Archer and call out to the fates who hold our souls.
“Accipe sanguinem meum, vim vitalem magicam. Spiritus et corpus iterum unum fiunt.”
Our voices mingle together and echo around us. It gets so loud, forcing me to peek through my lashes. All around us are spirits—some more corporeal than others. Standing behind Renata, just on the other side of the salt circle, are Petra and Barrett.
Never breaking the chant, I slowly move my eyes around the circle, seeing our ancestors. Cassia stands behind the Foxglove sisters and Everly is behind Sybil. Looking over my shoulder, I see Rhiannon—her presence a balm to my soul.
Behind the coven, there are other spirits who are here—Gray Witches from the Blackthorn line.
One in particular, standing a few feet behind Petra, is an older woman that I recognize.
Cordelia.
From her side, another familiar face walks up and joins in—my gran—with sweet Edmond standing behind his Chosen.
Gran stands strong and proud, holding Cordelia and Rhiannon’s hands. She looks down at me with a warm smile I miss every day and winks before turning her full attention back to Archer.
With tears in my eyes, I do the same. Two dark figures move through the shadows, stopping right where Cordelia and Edmond stand. Quickly turning, I watch all of the animals find their bonded witch.
Astra rests her head on Clover’s, glowing more than usual. Echo lands on Sybil’s head, and Nimble crawls into Esme’s lap. Even Whisper is lying his head across Archer’s stomach.
They’re helping us.
Familiars are so much more than a companion, but I’ve never seen one participate in a ritual. It’s old magic that is only required in the most dire situations. The heavy weight of this moment, and our families’ histories, grows as I realize that this is only the beginning for us. Barrett promised we have many enemies to expect.
A large paw lands on my back, startling me out of my growing panic until I realize it belongs to Feralia. Having almost broken the chant, I shake my head and focus again. Only my attention snags on Hexate who is wrapped around Renata’s waist.
She’s chanting the words, but Renata and her familiar stare at each other, having some unspoken conversation. Confusion is etched across her features, then she nods. We each have an innate understanding with our bonded animals, but we can’t fully communicate with them.
What did she just agree to?
A second later, Hexate pulls back before striking. All five of our chants stutter as the rattlesnake bites Renata’s thigh. The words quietly echo around us as the spirits keep the ritual going. Blood drips from the two wounds and venom begins to ooze out.
Renata throws her head back, screaming in pain. Through clenched teeth she commands, “Don’t stop.”
