Crescent Calling: The Crescent Witch Chronicles - Book One R Nicole (best novels for teenagers TXT) 📖

Boone shifted from foot to foot, then began slinking around to the side, giving the craglorn a wide berth.

Holding the athame tightly in my hand, I tensed, readying myself to strike. We were stuck in here together, and the only way this was ending was with the dagger and the completion of the saeclum naeniam. It had to die so magic could live. It was my duty as a Crescent Witch.

The craglorn lifted its talons, and I swallowed hard. What if it grabbed me before I could stab it? What if it tore me apart as I tried to plunge the blade into its leathery flesh? Holy shite on a stick, deep fried, and rolled in edible glitter.

My hand shook, and I took a step toward it, raising the athame ready to stab. The craglorn must have had enough intelligence left to sense what I was about to do, and it wailed and backed away, but it smacked into the edges of the web and bounced back toward me.

Turning, it focused on me, snapping its jaws. I hadn’t noticed before, but its teeth were long and pointed, its gums receding away from the roots, exposing more sharp and pointy chompers. Great, as if the claws weren’t enough, it had to go and have razor-sharp teeth, as well!

It lunged, taking one step, then another, and I lifted the dagger, my fear wrestling with my resolve. Faltering, I slipped and fell, landing on my back, and the wind rushed out of my lungs. The craglorn leaped, and a red streak slammed into its side, forcing it to fly to the left and tumble through the leaf litter. Boone!

Scrambling backward, I pushed to my feet just as a yelp tore through the air. The craglorn tossed the fox aside as if he was nothing, and Boone somersaulted across the clearing. Over and over he rolled until he came to a stop and lay still.

There was blood. Lots of blood and my heart tore in two. No!

Chapter 19

“Boone!”

The craglorn’s head twisted toward me, the hunger in its eyes chilling. It had hooked its claws into Boone’s fox shape like he was nothing, tearing his flesh and tossing him aside like he was a rag doll.

It didn’t want him. It wanted me. I was more powerful.

My aura was dripping with the magic it needed so desperately in order to survive. It was facing death, and killing me would save it.

Its biggest problem was the fact I wanted to live, too.

The cry of pain that burst from Boone stuck in my heart, and I roared, holding the athame high.

“You don’t belong here!” I boomed, calling on my magic. “Your time has passed!”

I felt the legacy of the Crescent Witches burning through my veins, and the power I’d tapped into while in the clutches of the sluagh felt nothing like it did now. It was so much more. It was a hot pool of liquid fire rushing around my body, the entire strength of the coven behind me. I was alone here in this clearing, but with the hawthorn behind me, I could feel each and every ancestor reaching out to help me realize one important thing.

They’d been with me all along. Before, after, and in between, Aileen had never left me because it was my legacy. We were a part of something bigger than ourselves. We were Crescent Witches. The most badass witches to have ever walked the earth.

I was a glowing beacon of golden light as I collided with the stunned craglorn. We tumbled across the clearing, colliding with the web and bouncing back with a crash.

I didn’t care about its nasty talons that were longer than my forearm. I didn’t care about the saliva dripping from its razor-sharp teeth. I cared that it had hurt Boone. I cared that after it was done with me, it would go through Derrydun and tear apart my friends.

With a roar, I raised the athame and struck, forcing the lifeblood of the land and the light of the Crescent Witches into the monster’s heart.

The blade sank into its chest, slicing through its flesh like butter. It wailed, and its eyes widened as it realized the end had come. One slice from the athame and the spell took hold, searing into the craglorn’s body like a white-hot flame.

I fell backward, scrambling to get out of the way of swiping claws as the creature writhed. Its cries of torment ripped the air apart, and I slapped my hands over my ears to block it out.

Its knees buckled, and it fell to the ground, thrashing as thin tendrils of smoke rose from the knife protruding from its chest. Horrified, I was frozen to the spot, my eyes glued to the death throes of the fae. Its thousand years of torment were finally over, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. Death was not easy—not for me.

Finally, its cries dulled, its movements stilled, and all fell silent. That was how I heard the craglorn exhale for the last time. The soft sigh lingered on the air, chilling me to the bone.

It was dead, but at what cost?

“Boone!”

Skidding across the clearing, I fell to my knees next to the fox. His eyes were glassy, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, his chest heaving with quick breaths. Blood matted his fur, the sight of the gash in his side making me feel sick to the stomach.

“Change back,” I pleaded. “Please…”

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze meeting mine, and I knew. He was stuck in his fox form, too weak to shift back.

What was I supposed to do? Panic began simmering as I ran my fingers through his fur. Who could help me heal a seriously wounded fox? It wasn’t like I could take him to the vet.

Even as I thought about it, I knew there wasn’t anyone to turn to. It was just him and me. My mistake had brought this down on