The Bone Key by Mary Rajotte

The Bone Key by Mary Rajotte

Author:Mary Rajotte
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quill & Crow Publishing House


CHAPTER 12

Regrouping

It’s well past 4 am when we return to Rancho de Las Garras. Desi and Dree follow Esme and Don Vega inside, but my emotions are a swirling intensity of smoke and dank soil that keep me buzzing too much for me to go into the meeting house. My spirit is a restless animal, incensed and infuriated. Los Cazadores should never have provoked me. Nico López can save his platitudes. They’ll do no good here.

On the flat stone threshold, looking out over the grounds, I stand with my hands balled into fists at my side and hold my breath so I can hear better, so I can sense if someone is lurking in the shadows, waiting for when we least expect them to mount another attack.

My first instinct in Montréal was to pick up and leave to keep myself and my coven safe from Los Cazadores. But to have them attack us on the most sacred of nights when we gather to pay respect to our ancestors who instilled in us their wisdom and their abilities? It imbues every cell in my body with ire.

Across the grounds, the pale orange glow emanating from Lidia’s cabin proves she can’t sleep either. I’m tempted to go over there and take her up on her offer to go deeper and darker with our Craft, but after the attack and my confrontation with Nico, after fighting off his coyote, it’s clear that darkness is already within me. The black witch moths have been coming to me to draw it from within me, not to torment me. They’ve been the shining light I needed all along, and I won’t turn my nose up at this power. I’m not afraid of tapping into something darker. I welcome it now more than ever before.

I snatch up my cigar box from the deck and bound down the steps, striding to the edge of the land where the shadows seep into the grounds of Rancho de las Garras. Surrounding the property, a field of protection invisible to the mortal eyes shimmers in iridescent red-gold. Arm outstretched, I wave my hand through the forcefield. Faint electricity percolates on my fingertips like the flare from the sparklers we used to get to celebrate Canada Day.

I approach the shoulder-high hedges planted as a natural barricade. I stop, my mother’s voice ringing in my head, telling me it’s too dangerous to go outside the barrier. That things lurk in the places beyond our walls, things that can hurt me. Things that threaten my safety. But I’m tired of being afraid. The phantom call of her whistle, which I heard when I left home, lingers like a warning.

The further I move into the field, the energy travels up my arm, across my shoulders, and up my neck until I’m standing in the center. Sounds far down in the forest are closer than my heartbeat. The sweet fragrance of dew on the leaves tickles my nose before turning sour and spoiled. The musty brine of the ocean miles away stings my lips with its saltiness.



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