Shadow Coven (The Witchery, Book 2) by S. Isabelle

Author:S. Isabelle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

In a filthy stall of a seedy bus station bathroom, Trent pricked his thumb.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done it. As a kid, he’d once unlocked the case of his mother’s sanctified needles, the ones she’d kept hidden and rarely used. Lourdes Hogarth had treated her witchery like a personal trait or a quirk, not something that had imbued her blood with literal magic. It never made sense to him when he was younger, but knowing what he knew now, Trent was starting to understand why.

Nothing magical happened. He was left with a sore, bloody thumb instead of a hot burst of witchery in his chest. For a moment, he doubted what his uncle had told him. But as he recalled Uncle Quincey’s serious face and tense words, he felt an irresistible twitch of nervous excitement.

Her firstborn witch.

Trent’s witchery seemed to be the key to the bloodpact and a “beacon” to Silverhand, whoever that was. There was skilled, powerful magic at play here. I’m a witch, he thought, releasing a disillusioned chuckle. What was a witch without their magic? How cruel was this, to be given the one thing he’d ever wished for, only to be told, Don’t touch.

Trent washed his hands, pressed a paper towel to his thumb until the bleeding stopped, then returned to the lobby where Logan and Thalia were waiting. The small bus station was surprisingly busy. Like Haelsford, Annex attracted its own tourists every summer. Families on their way up to see the Grand Canyon, thrill seekers looking to lure rattlesnakes for their social media accounts, and Bible-thumpers. Annex was one of three surviving bleedbays in the country, and there was a certain audience that liked the idea of being in a place where witches could be hurt without recourse. He shivered at the thought.

“Ready?” Thalia asked.

It was weird to hear the higher-pitched voice, but it was her face that was going to take some getting used to. He wanted her mess of wild curls, her shy smile, her big gray eyes. This version of her was too smooth and perfect. “Yeah. Are you?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she whispered. She looked to Logan. “You get the reservations?”

Logan turned her screen for them. “Two rooms at Annex’s finest motel. Looks like they offer cornhole every evening at six, so exciting!” She smiled stiffly.

“Can’t miss that,” Trent agreed.

Thalia adjusted her backpack, then paused. Trent followed her gaze.

The bus station announcement board was covered in missing-persons posters. While Thalia’s eyes didn’t linger, Trent took in their names, their faces. Five different witches, all gone missing in the span of a few months. A stark reminder that witches weren’t all-powerful and that a mundane with hate in their heart could be just as dangerous.

“Let’s go,” Thalia said quickly.

They skipped the rideshare line and started on the mile-long trek into town. The heat was blistering and the air shimmered, but Trent understood that the fewer people they came into contact with, the better.

“Let’s go over everything one last time,” Thalia said, her index fingers pointed up like a schoolteacher’s.

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