Page 17

But I could figure that out later. Gran would be worried sick, and I had to check on her. I hurried forward, circling around the oak tree and making another left. Sure enough, there it was—home. The cottage sat there innocently as if it had been waiting for me. The windows were open, and the laundry hanging on the clothesline by the porch swayed slightly in the wind.

A cry of relief bubbled up my throat.

Until I noticed the door hanging off its hinges.

And an unfamiliar scent of spice and smoke met my nostrils.

Gran.

I sprinted toward the cottage, unsure of what I would do but refusing to let anything happen to my grandmother.

My instinct was to burst inside and face whatever waited for me, but I froze when I heard distinctly heavy footfalls. My breath lodged itself in my throat as I went completely still, listening by the open door.

“… lost long ago,” a male was saying in a deep voice. “How did it get here?”

“Do you think she stole it?” asked another voice. This one wasn’t quite as deep, but it was also distinctly male.

There were at least two of them. Fae, most likely. I swallowed hard, remembering my last encounter with hostile fae. I couldn’t just barge in there unprepared. Otherwise I would get attacked again. Or worse.

Shit, what about Gran? Was she in there? What if they’d hurt her?

Panic blared in my ears, drowning out all other thoughts. I crammed my eyes shut against the chaotic emotions firing through me. Run! Fight! Do something! Don’t just stand there!

Sharp breaths. Not enough oxygen. Storms, I couldn’t think.

“These filthy witches will destroy our kind if we don’t stop them,” snarled the second voice.

My eyes flew open, a growl building in my throat. Sudden clarity pierced through the fog of my mind, and fresh rage boiled through me. I summoned my magic, my hand burning with power, then stepped through the door.

Two large figures were crouched over something on the floor. They both looked up at my entrance, but I didn’t let them react. With a shout, I launched my magic toward them. Energy crackled in the air, hitting one squarely in the chest. He toppled backward, his brown hair flopping as he fell.

The second figure roared, rising to his feet. He was enormous—nearly a foot taller than me. I sent another jet of magic toward him, but he lunged out of the way just in time, crashing into a piece of furniture.

My eyes slid to the motionless figure lying on the floor, and my heart stopped.

Gran.

Gran.

My hands fell, all power and energy leaving my body in one breathless instant. Time seemed to stop. All I could see was her lying there, eyes closed and chest torn open. Her blood stained the wooden floors.

She wasn’t moving.

She wasn’t breathing.

My grandmother, the strong, fierce woman who had raised me, was dead.

My insides caved inward, crushing bones and organs as I felt myself fracture into a million pieces.

No. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a vision, meant to ward off these intruders. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

The second male collided with me, bringing me crashing to the floor. I groaned, my head slamming into a hard surface. He pinned me to the floor with his massive arms. His gold eyes gleamed, and he let out a feral snarl.

Oh no. Gold eyes. That could only mean one thing: He was a Wolven Mage.

With a shriek, I tried to shove his arms away, but he was too strong. The bulk of his weight had me completely immobilized.

Then, my eyes locked onto his, and the entire world seemed to freeze. His gleaming gold irises swallowed me whole, and I was falling into an endless abyss.