Perhaps that sick craving was what pulled Nick back here, time after time.
No matter what else happened to him in hell, Nick always seemed to end up on the cold mountain. Waiting for Amalia, for the moment Nick surrendered.
He was on his knees again. He didn’t remember falling.
Get up , Nick told himself wearily. It’s no good unless you get up.
He would get up. In a minute. He was so tired.
A witch should not weep, and it was no use crying on the mountain. Tears turned to ice on your face. Wolves had no pity. He couldn’t cry.
He used to pray to Satan, as any infernal choirboy might. Now that he’d rebelled against the Great Rebel and was holding him prisoner, praying seemed inappropriate. Nick still had the impulse to pray, clasp his hands tight and implore some force greater than he was. Not for himself, but for that which was dearer than himself.
Let her be happy and free. Let her not do anything too dangerous without me there to shield her. Let that idiot mortal not encourage her in any wild plans.
All relationships had high and low points, Nick had read. He found that to be true. In Nick’s relationship, he got to be with Sabrina, the world’s most amazing woman, and was forced to deal with the mortal, the world’s most annoying man. No doubt that utter moron was helping Sabrina get into trouble right now, but perhaps what had happened to Nick might teach them caution. Just enough to keep them in their homes and stop them hatching bizarre plots involving evil doubles or dynamite.
He liked to think of Sabrina at home, with her family.
Nick bowed his head against the driving wind and bitter cold, waiting for the wolves.
Let Sabrina be safe. If she is well, this is worth it.
I t was dark in the woods when my friends and I went to summon the goddess. The dome of the sky was black, descending into slate gray, stars growing faint through unfurling leaves. Even the trees, which wore fresh new green under the sun, seemed gray in this absence of light.
Dawn, the liminal time between night and day, was a good time to summon or banish the spirits.
“This is like old times,” said Theo. “Sabrina luring us into the depths of the woods, where we aren’t supposed to be. My dad always said one of us would stumble into a bear trap.”
Roz dimpled. “My dad always said I should stop hanging around with kids who might stray from the path.”
She and Harvey were walking hand in hand over the uneven earth. He’d often stop to help her over tree roots.
“My aunt Zelda always said I should stop hanging around with brief, unworthy mortals.”
I’d never been able to tell them that before. My friends used to think Aunt Zelda disliked them personally. It must be better to know the truth.
“Tommy always told me to have fun,” said Harvey.
A hush followed, broken only by the sighing wind through newborn leaves, as though naming the dead made this space under the trees holy. Harvey didn’t fling his brother’s name at me in accusation any longer. He only said it with love, and pain. That hurt me more.
We had followed the river through the woods for some time. In the shadows, the river waters looked black. Like a path of night.
Harvey caught my attention. “Here, do you think?”
The books said to search for a propitious place. I could see mountains through the trees, high and white as sea cliffs. There was a space between the leaves. Light had seized the opportunity to splash down upon the earth in a radiant lake at our feet. I couldn’t tell whether it was sunlight, moonlight, starlight, or some combination of the three. My gaze had been fixed on the dark river, but Harvey’s artist’s eye had seen something else.
I nodded. Harvey offered me his free hand, and Roz and I clasped Theo’s hands. We stood in a summoning circle, and I began.
“Lady, oh Lady, our Lady. Eostre, Freyja, Ishtar. Kaguya, Austra, Lady of a Hundred Eyes, the Shining Princess, Lady Star. I summon you. We beg you for aid.”
The noise of the soft breeze through the leaves changed. There was a quality to the wind, almost like breath. Like a woman’s sigh.
I swallowed and continued.
“Where shall she find, in foreign land,
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand!—
There is no breeze upon the fern,
No ripple on the lake,
Upon her eyry nods the erne,
The deer has sought the brake;
The small birds will not sing aloud,
The springing trout lies still,
So darkly glooms yon thundercloud,
That swathes, as with a purple shroud …”
My words crumbled with the earth, shuddering and falling away beneath our feet. I held Harvey’s and Theo’s hands tight, and they held fast to mine. Though the ground was shifting, we didn’t let go of each other.
The breeze died. I’d thought the woods were quiet before. Only once the silence rushed in did I realize that as a witch I’d been unconsciously aware of the creatures rushing among the trees and beneath the earth. Now they were gone, frozen or flying in terror from the presence of the goddess. Every bird for miles ceased its song. Every leaf was iced with silver.
The thundercloud rolled in, seething black and purple.
Though the sky was dark, the pool of light at our feet remained. Under the shadow of the thundercloud, we saw light spread. Its radiance suffused the earth as the ground broke apart, bright liquid flooding through every crack. Light became water, until we stood by the side of a lake. I’d never seen any lake so bright or so deadly still.
She rose from the lake like Venus being born from sea-foam, a woman tall and pale as a marble column. Her skin was radiant as the surface of the moon, and her profile disdainful as the marble bust of an empress. Silver water cascaded from her white hair as if she were a living waterfall. She was wrapped in a sparkling silver robe topped by a collar of silver feathers. When the Lady turned toward us, every long feather waving behind her head seemed to open a blue staring eye.
Eostre, the Lady of the Lake, wore a broad silver ribbon around her own eyes. But every vivid blue eye in each tall feather was trained on me.
“Hail, Lady,” I said. “I hope you will see us and not find us wanting.”
“The night has a thousand eyes …” murmured the Lady. “Many are mine. Though not all. You never know what watches from the dark. Do you, Sabrina Morningstar?”
Through gritted teeth, I said: “It’s Sabrina Spellman, actually.”
The Lady’s laugh was a ripple on the silver surface of the pool. “Does calling yourself that make you not what you are? A rose by any other name … would still be a rose. Neither you nor the roses can change your nature.”
Roz made urgent eye contact with me. I recalled I was meant to beg the Lady for a boon, not contradict her. For Nick, I would beg.
“Our Lady, I humbly ask your aid.”
“Humbly.” The Lady of the Lake’s starlight-distant voice was amused. “Do you think you can open a cage of lies with a key of lies, child?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do you want me to demand your help?”
The hem of the Lady’s robe floated on the waters. I couldn’t tell whether her feet rested on the surface of the lake. “He for pride hath heaven lost. No doubt whose daughter you are.”
I lost patience. “Will you not help us?”
“I didn’t say that,” the Lady murmured, wind-soft. “I have no quarrel with the throne of chaos or its heir. I only remind you that those who soar high fall far. Are your friends ready to fall with you?”