Cresent Prophecy by Axelle Chandler (great reads TXT) 📕

“Shut up!” she said, screeching.

“Carman will be gone, and we can come out of hiding,” I said, searching for my magic. “We could celebrate what we are, openly. We could use magic anywhere. Together, we could live in peace. If you do this, magic will die. Carman will take everything you are and use it for her own ends. Even if you save them—”

“I said, shut up!”

Her palm connected with my face with a crack, and I gasped.

“And don’t even try to look for your magic. I’ve locked you out. That was the first thing I did.”

“Lucy, please…”

“She took their magic,” Lucy said, her fists trembling. “She was just as bad as Carman, so why would I trust you? Crescent spawn.”

I faltered. So that was Aileen’s revenge. She’d confronted the coven who’d murdered her family and hadn’t delivered death but something far worse. She’d taken the Nightshade’s birthright as punishment, only sparing Lucy and her sister. Mercy that hadn’t been appreciated considering my current predicament.

Lucy had spent her whole life growing up with a destroyed family, and to her, Aileen had been to blame. I saw it now.

She had a chance to change but had chosen the path her family had set her on. Their bitterness and hatred had shaped her, and so here we were.

Lucy had played me all along. Here I thought all witches were on my side, and the only tricksters in the equation were the fae. Revenge was a slippery slope.

There was no changing Lucy’s mind. It had already been made up long before she met me.

“So, how’s this going to go?” I asked, staring at the darkness above. “Do you slit my wrists and do your little slam poetry performance while I bleed out? Are you just going to leave me tied up here and let my body rot? That’s just asking for a forensic analysis by the cops, FYI. I bet your DNA is all over the place. Don’t forget to scrub me down with bleach by hand! Because I’m pretty sure magical scrubbing brushes are against witchy laws since I’m not allowed to have spelled knitting needles. And I really wanted one of those funky jumpers for Christmas. You know the ones with the reindeer and tinsel and bells and shit sewn on the front? Man, imagine what the pictures would’ve been like.”

“Don’t waste your last moments on pointless dribble, Skye,” Lucy said. “It’s not becomin’ of a Crescent Witch. At least our ancestors knew how to die with dignity even when they were lashed to stakes.”

“And how will you live with yourself, Lucy?” I asked, glaring at her. “Knowing you betrayed your entire kind to the greatest evil who ever lived? When you’re all writhing in agony at the mercy of the fae, you’ll look back to this moment and know all that suffering was because of you. It will be your fault.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You really don’t know anythin’. It’s unbelievable.”

“What? What are you talking about?” I demanded, trying desperately to hold onto consciousness. “What do you mean?”

Lucy began to chant, her words sounding alien to my ears. I couldn’t concentrate as her magic swelled, then settled over me like a blanket. Everything was muffled, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even struggle or scream.

I was completely helpless.

Lucy stood over me, holding the dagger in her hands. Her gaze met mine, and I knew there was no getting out of this. Not like before, when I’d still held onto a sliver of hope. No, this time I knew. The clarity was startling, and I resigned myself to my fate.

I’d done all I could, hadn’t I? I’d been dumped into all of this Crescent Witch business with no warning, no guidance, and no clue. Dumb luck. That was what it had been all along.

Dumb. Luck.

I cried out as Lucy dragged the dagger along my arm. From wrist to elbow, she sliced me open, opting for the overkill method. Then she gave me a matching slice.

I felt blood oozing from the wounds, and my head swam. I was so tired… My arms burned, yet I felt so cold.

“I’m sorry…” I said through a moan. “Aileen, I’m so sorry…”

Lucy continued her chanting, raising her hand and swiping her bloodstained thumb across my forehead.

“Goodbye, Skye,” she murmured. “Thank you, for your sacrifice.”

The world was torn away, and I fell. I was twisted inside out, back to front, and catapulted from side to side. Then I landed on my feet.

Gasping, I held out my arms to steady myself.

That was when I realized the cuts were gone. So was the pain. Freaky. Was I dead and in the afterlife?

Looking around, I found myself in a dark room. The walls were made of large bluestone slabs, and the only light came from some flaming torches set along the wall in wrought iron sconces. It was very medieval in there.

There were two large wooden doors set into the walls on either side of the room, complete with black iron embellishments. Totally fancy hinges and handles and shite.

Striding over to the right-hand side, I wrestled with the loop, the ancient mechanism doing my head in. Finally, I figured out I had to raise the ring and turn it to the side to unlatch it.

Opening the door, I ran through, determined to get out of there, then skidded to halt as I ran straight back into the room I’d been in. The hell?

Turning, I went back the way I’d come and cursed when I realized I was standing on the opposite side of the same room. Still, I tried both doors several more times, all with the same result. Predicament confirmed.

I didn’t have to be a genius to know I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

I wished Boone was here. Boone would know what to do. He would have to know I was missing by now, and he’d be searching. And Mairead… Mairead! I was supposed to help her with her drawings tonight. Dammit. Talk