Spells Trouble Kristin Cast (a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT) 📖

Emily raised her hand. “You said we each need an offering, but I don’t have anything.”

“Em, you’ll be at the cherry tree that guards the Japanese gate,” explained Mercy. “I brought your offering.” She reached into her purse and brought out the beautiful little Japanese sumi-e Emily had painted in remembrance of Abigail Goode.

Emily took it, holding it carefully, gazing at the soaring owl. “It seems like a million years ago that I painted this.”

“It is a perfect offering,” Xena assured her. “Something precious created with love.”

Jax waved his hand, getting their attention. “What’s my offering?”

“The dove feather you got from your dad, remember?” answered Hunter.

“Oh, right! Got it in my pocket.” Jax patted his jean’s pocket.

Mercy turned to look at her sister. “I didn’t see what offering you brought.”

Her twin’s emotionless eyes met hers. Her voice had a hard edge to it that bordered on anger. “I’m going to get it on my way to the tree, but you already knew that, so why did you need to ask?”

Mercy just stared at her, unable to arrange the right words to reply.

Into the sudden silence Emily spoke up. “My other question is about the, um, blood.”

“Oh, I can answer that.” Xena bent and brought out a small, rectangular box from below the seat in front of her. She opened it to expose five tiny daggers, each about the size of a pinky finger. They nestled on faded red velvet.

“I’ve never seen those before,” Hunter said, peering over the front seat.

“They were in the attic,” Xena said, “in Gertrude Goode’s hope chest.”

“What are they?” asked Mercy, intrigued by the perfection of their carved bone handles and their razor-like blades.

“Miniature athames.” When Emily and Jax sent her confused looks Xena fluttered her fingers at them and clarified. “Sorry, kittens. I keep forgetting how new all of this is to you. An athame is a witch’s dagger—used only for rituals and spells. In the past, witches used a lot more bloodletting in their spellwork.” She sighed nostalgically. “That seems to have gone out of style. Well, go on, each of you, take one.” She passed the box around and everyone chose their athame.

“Cut yourself beneath your thumb, on that meaty part of your palm,” Hunter said. She moved her shoulders uncomfortably when everyone’s gaze turned to her. “What? It’s not super sensitive there, and it’ll be easy to just prick yourself and then squeeze it to make the blood drip.”

“I already sanitized the blades,” added Xena.

Emily sneezed and then thanked her.

“Okay, does anyone have any more questions?” Mercy asked. “Sunset will be in about thirty minutes.”

“I think I get it,” said Emily as she held her athame carefully.

“All I need to know is which one is my tree,” said Jax.

“Your tree is the banyan. It guards the Hindu gate,” said Mercy.

“Em, you already know that yours is the Japanese gate.”

“I’ve always liked that tree,” said Emily.

“Xena, I thought you should go to the Egyptian tree—what with Bast being an Egyptian goddess and all.”

Xena nodded. “Yes, kitten, I agree. And I have the perfect offering. I shall leave a lock of my luxurious hair. I know Bast will appreciate that.”

“Hunter,” said Mercy, “you’ll need to go to—”

“I know what I need to do.”

Mercy thought she’d never seen Hunter’s eyes look so blue or so cold—like someone had frozen the Caribbean Sea. She squared her shoulders and faced Hunter. It was time.

“Do you really know what to do?”

“I’m taking care of the Cyclops. Cleaning up the real mess. As usual.”

“As usual?” Mercy frowned at Hunter.

“And you don’t need to tell me what to do.”

“What’s going on between them?” Emily whispered from the backseat, but Xena gently shushed her.

Mercy felt one of the wounds in her heart begin to bleed, but she ignored it. It was time. “Whatever, Hunter. You’re still not getting it.” She lifted the sheet of paper that had been waiting on her lap. “You have to put aside Tyr and choose a goddess. It’s your god that caused this. Your god that made the trees sick.” Mercy struck twice with her words, drew a breath, and then slashed the third and most devastating wound. “Your god caused the Fenrir to escape.” Hunter’s shoulders jerked in pain, but Mercy forced herself to go on. “Being a lesbian doesn’t mean you had to choose a god instead of a goddess.” Mercy turned the page and held it so Hunter could read it.

Hunter’s eyes blazed with rage as she ripped the page from Mercy’s hands. “My sexuality has nothing to do with choosing Tyr. So, do you also believe that Jax is my best friend because he’s a guy? Did you ever think that I’m more interested in the person, or god, and less concerned with their gender?” Mercy opened her mouth to speak, but Hunter didn’t give her the opportunity. “And, if you’d bothered to do any real research, you’d know that they didn’t see queerness as an identity back when this prophecy was written, so there’s no possible way great aunt whoever could have been referring to me.” Then she balled up the paper and threw it onto the floorboard. She jerked open her car door and grabbed her backpack from where it rested on the seat between them. Before she got out of the car, she hurled her words at Mercy.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll betray my god and choose a goddess. I’ll make this sacrifice and fix everything, not because there’s something wrong with me, but because you’re too weak to help yourself.” Hunter surged from the car. “Jax, I’m riding with you. Drop me off at the sheriff’s.” She stomped away, leaving Jax to scramble after her.

“Kitten! Do be careful!” Xena called through the window at Hunter’s back.

Mercy had to swallow several times before she could speak and when she did her voice sounded hollow, like something had just gouged through her. “Em, would you drive?”

As Emily