Bonds and Broken Dreams by Meghan Ciana Doidge

Author:Meghan Ciana Doidge [Doidge, Meghan Ciana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy
ISBN: 978-1-989571-02-6
Amazon: B07RBJMRFK
Goodreads: 45368731
Publisher: Old Man in the CrossWalk Productions
Published: 2019-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

Christopher was waiting at the door to the laundry room. After yanking off her snow-crusted runners, he wrapped two layers of blankets around Opal and pulled her from my arms. I was also shivering as I toed off my boots and followed Christopher into the kitchen. The kettle was already steaming on the stove, along with a small pot brewing the hot cocoa Christopher had promised Opal.

The clairvoyant settled the young witch on one of the kitchen island stools, stepping back carefully as if she might keel over the moment he let go of her. She didn’t. He stepped around to stir the small pot, then pulled mugs from the cupboard.

I hovered a few steps into the kitchen, oddly bereft of emotion and feeling momentarily untethered.

“The sorcerer forgets himself,” Christopher said, glancing back at me. His light-gray eyes were traced with simmering white magic.

“He doesn’t really know us,” I said. And Aiden truly didn’t know what we could do, how we’d been trained. But there was a good chance that curse might have killed Opal if he hadn’t been there to get it off her. I could boost magic immensely. But the witch would have needed to know how to counter the malicious spell herself.

Paisley deliberately bumped me with her shoulder as she sauntered into the kitchen and around the island. She paused beside the fridge. Then, reaching out with four tentacles, she lifted the cookie jar from the counter.

Opal, appearing from my vantage point to be nothing but a pile of blankets perched on the stool, straightened. Warily, perhaps, but I couldn’t see her face.

The demon dog carried the cookie jar down the length of the kitchen island, setting it on the corner nearest to Opal. Her tentacles retracted, and she looked over at me, dropping her large maw open in an easy smile.

Something painful expanded in my chest. I breathed against it, absorbing it. Right. Taking care of someone, anyone, was more than simply saving them from the brink of death. I stepped forward.

Christopher set the teapot and side plates on the island. I crossed around Paisley, placing her between me and Opal. Then I opened the cookie jar, set two ginger snaps on a side plate, and slid the plate over to the young witch. Christopher poured the cocoa into one of the mugs, setting it beside the ginger snaps.

I took another cookie from the jar, offering it to Paisley. The demon dog took it gently in her mouth, then swiveled her massive head to blink at Opal.

The young witch pushed the blankets and the jacket’s hood off her head. Her eyes were reddened with spent tears and pain. She touched her matted hair, face crumpling.

“I’m …”

I stiffened, about to tell her that she shouldn’t speak, shouldn’t tell us anything. Just in case there was a secondary curse on her.

“I’m going to have to shave my head,” she said mournfully. “Again.”

“No,” I said, harsher than I’d intended. “You’ll oil it. We had … have a friend, and she oiled her hair and skin.

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