Cauldrons and Cat Tails (Moonvale Matches #2)

36. Kizzi

CHAPTER 36

Kizzi

M agic. All I could feel, hear, smell, taste was magic. It saturated the air so heavily I was practically swimming in it.

It was impossible. Magic was always easier to feel, easier to manipulate, easier to gather on Hallow’s Eve, but this was different. This was more .

And I reveled in it.

I never felt more alive.

The witches stood in a circle in the clearing, all of us joining hands around the cauldron. I could tell the others were feeling the magic too. There was a charge to the air, an expectation. A readiness.

Hex, about a gallon of them, was bundled into a backpack slung over my shoulders. They were heavier than I expected, weighing more than a sack of grain.

My familiar was a roiling mass of energy as they gurgled in the sack. I was tempted to set them down, to let them be free, but I worried about where they would run off to out in the woods with so much magic charging the air.

Losing them would be an inconvenience. I might miss them a little.

The main ritual commenced.

Ani, the coven leader, led the ritual. As the oldest witch in Moonvale, she was the expert.

“Witches!” she shouted. “One by one, bring your offerings to the cauldron.”

We did.

Herbs, gems, metals, spices, flowers, leaves—the cauldron held the most magical mixture.

When it was my turn, I stepped forward with my offering. Rose quartz. For healing, for compassion, for love. Unconditional love.

I clutched the crystal tightly in my palm. The rigid material bit into my flesh.

My foot landed on something soft as I strode forward. On a reflex, I immediately yanked it back.

An unholy screech echoed throughout the clearing. My gaze darted down to see Casper in front of me, her tail angrily swishing back and forth. It was covered in dirt and leaves.

I had stepped on the damned cat’s tail.

I frantically bent down to assess the cat, to pet her, to make sure she was okay. “Oh, Gods! Sorry Casper! Why were you sitting right under my boots?”

The cat batted my hand away with angry paws, claws bared.

She barely swiped my finger, the one clutching the crystal. The flesh split and blood welled.

Just a drop or two.

Guilt flooded me. I hastily dropped my crystal into the cauldron, murmuring apologies to the cat under my breath the entire time. I deserved that one.

Luckily, Casper seemed to forgive me quickly. She rubbed her head against my boot and then sat quietly beside me, licking her paws and grooming herself.

The other witches completed their offerings, and then we began to chant. The chant for the main ritual was the same every year—it never failed to chill my blood.

Hallow’s Eve! Hallow’s Eve! Old Gods, hear our pleas! We bring our offerings to you, to keep the magic free. Hallow’s Eve! Hallow’s Eve! Old Gods, hear our pleas! We dedicate ourselves to you, so magic may be free.

The trees surrounding the witch circle began to shiver. Leaves rained down around the clearing, blanketing us in drops of yellow, red, orange.

And then the ground began to shake. It vibrated my bones. Chattered my teeth.

“What’s going on?” someone shouted. “Is this supposed to happen?”

“Stay calm,” Ani insisted. “The fates will forge the path. All is as it should be.”

A vicious wind whipped through the clearing. Leaves lifted off the ground, carried in a spiral. They whirled around us as though they were alive.

Hex leapt from the backpack, landing with a splat on the ground. They split into two, one half of them wrapping around my ankle, the other half darting toward the cauldron. I didn’t even have time to stop them. They crawled up the edge of the cauldron to sneak a peek.

The cauldron bubbled up and spilled over. A plume of smoke, a rich purple color, drifted free. Instead of drifting straight up to the skies, it drifted outwards, toward the witches, and then beyond. It crept through the forest like a fog.

The smoke smelled of ice and ashes, of magic in its purest form.

Sweat beaded on my hairline. My hands began to shake. Acid burned up my throat.

And then darkness swallowed me whole.

“ K izziah,” a voice called, near and far, loud but soft.

I couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t smell anything. Couldn’t feel the air on my skin or the ground beneath my feet.

The only thing I could feel was Hex’s solid weight curled against my ankle. I almost cried at how relieved I was to feel them there.

“ Kizziah.”

I didn’t know what happened to the ritual. Had I fallen asleep? Was this some sort of dream? The beginnings of panic fluttered in my stomach.

“Kizziah Cedarton. Answer.” The voice was haughty now. Impatient.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Y–yes?”

“You have summoned us,” the voice boomed.

“I what?”

“You have summoned us,” the voice repeated. “We have been waiting for one of our ancestors to call us back to the realm. Waiting and waiting and waiting. The time has finally come.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“We are on our way.” The voice was further now, slipping away. Sinking underwater.

“What? Who? Huh?” My mind fought to piece together what was going on.

What the fuck had I done?

I felt their presence drift away, and some of the overwhelming magic went with it.

And then I could finally pull my eyes open.

I was still standing in the circle, still holding the hands of two witches, and Hex was still perched on my foot with Casper leaning against the other.

What the fuck was that?

M y bed had never felt so comfortable. I was exhausted, the kind of tired that sank into my bones and made them feel malleable.

I didn’t even have the energy to brush off the sprites as they settled on my shoulders, on my hair.

I readied myself for bed and sank into one of the deepest sleeps of my life, surrounded by Casper, Hex, and countless sprites.