When witch Bella's visions of blood and horror reveal a dark secret in her coven's past, she is torn between saving those who have scorned her and sacrificing the enticing werewolf who accepts her.
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As a descendent of the cursed Black family, Be...
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I squeeze my eyes shut and push down the panic threatening to spill from my lips. I'm terrified, but if pride is all I have left, I won't let anyone see my fear. Even though I'm terrified.
I don't want to die.
Mum is screaming somewhere behind, her voice rising above the sounds of gasps and murmurs. "She's just a girl. The goddess wouldn't want this! The goddess wouldn't want this!"
Two sets of rough hands are clutching me hard, dragging me roughly towards the altar. My hands are in tight fists as I battle to keep my power buried. It throbs beneath my skin, and begs to be unleashed, but I can't risk it. I know what elders have done to witches like me in the past. There are fates worse than death. Frederick's closest friend Alec leans down and whispers in my ear as I struggle against his grip.
"I can't wait to see you burn for this."
High Elder Alisdair Stone stands before the grimoire perched on its stone plinth. His face is stern, his crimson robes are blood-red in the faint light. A smirking Frederick stands by his side. The Elders watch from behind them. Their robes as black as the midnight sky, their faces just as blank. The ceremonial fire in the centre of the circle licks higher and higher. The flames crackle, breaking the silence as the coven waits impatiently for the outcome. Dozens of faces all bathed in shadows, their expressions look like snarls in the violent flickering light. The bloodlust is so strong the air feels electrified by it. Around us the dark woods breathe, the wet scent of moss and rotting bark strong enough to taste.
"Hold out your hand, witchling."
Before I have the chance to comply, Frederick shoots forward. He grips my wrist and yanks my shaking hand towards them. He twists until my palm faces the sky. He peers down at me, his face hardened in a twisted sneer, making him more monstrous than his classic good looks usually reveal. Alisdair glares at him but raises the gold dagger above his head. I recoil at the sight of it.
"Belladonna Black went against the word of the goddess and, in doing so, shamed this coven. Her recklessness, her selfishness has left my son untethered to his fate." He glances at Frederick, who closes his eyes and looks away. "And now let's discover what the goddess wills of us and our disobedient sister."
In one angry swipe, the dagger passes across my palm. Blood, almost black in the darkness, swells from the cut. Behind me, I hear Mum gasp. Lark whimpers. The rest of the coven has fallen silent.
Somewhere deeper in the woods, I hear a deep growl. It ricochets through the trees; the threat carries on the damp air. Whispers and gasps travel around the circle.
Alisdair ignores the sound and takes my hand roughly, raising it above the grimoire and letting the blood drip-drop onto the yellowing page. I'm dragged back roughly by Alec and the other witch. Alisdair bares his throat, his head raised towards the sky as he lifts his hand across the page, my blood smearing across the surface. He mutters the incantation, quietly at first, and then his words rise as the coven joins in. Louder and louder, they utter the words to summon the goddess. Over and over.
