Crescent Calling: The Crescent Witch Chronicles - Book One by R Nicole (essential reading TXT) 📗

sense something just below the surface of my skin. It tingled and crawled, unsettling my heart.

It was wonderful and amazing and all of those kinds of words, but it was also frightening. I was the last Crescent Witch. I was alone with a monumental task—protecting magic from extinction.

“Can we walk for a while?” I asked. “I just…”

Boone frowned but didn’t press. “Sure. Of course, we can.”

We walked for some time, venturing deeper into the woods than I’d ever been, but Boone seemed to know his way, so I allowed him to take the lead.

My thoughts rambled, and my uneasiness grew. I wondered what the tarot cards would say about this now that the Tower had played out. I made a mental note to draw a card when I got back to the cottage.

We must’ve walked a mile or so into the wilderness when Boone suddenly ground to a halt.

Turning, I asked, “What is it?”

“This is as far as I can go,” he said mysteriously.

“What do you mean?” I screwed up my face.

“If I go any further, I step outside the protection of the hawthorns.” He held up his hand like he was pressing his palm against an invisible wall.

“I don’t understand. You’re trapped in Derrydun?” It was absurd, but I’d seen stranger things.

“I told you somethin’ was chasing me the night I came to this place,” he murmured. “If I step outside the boundary, they’ll be able to sense me. I can’t take the risk…”

I frowned, not liking the tinge of fear that had crept into his voice. It was pointless asking him who was after him because he didn’t remember.

“Then we go back,” I said, not making a big deal about it, but unfortunately, the weather did.

Turning my face toward the sky as the first drops of rain fell, I yelped. It was big, fat, and heavy rain, the kind that soaked a person through even though they were in a forest.

“Dammit,” I cursed. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed the weather turning.

Boone grabbed my hand and tugged be back in the direction of the hawthorn. “C’mon, I know a dry place.”

We ran through the undergrowth, leaping over fallen logs, skidding across moss, and kicking aside ferns. My hair was dripping as the rain morphed into a full-on downpour.

“Here,” Boone said, guiding me toward an opening that had appeared out of nowhere.

Making a break for it, I followed his lead, desperate to get out of the rain and someplace dry.

“It’s a little cave,” I said, moving inside. The scent of damp earth wafted up my nose, and the air around us closed in. “Wow.”

“’Tis a druid’s cave,” Boone said, his voice sounding close in the heavy air.

I turned, my interest piqued. “Druids?”

“It’s said they used to meet in caves similar to these to practice their faith in times of persecution. They were also safe havens in times of trouble or a dry place to rest one’s head. They’re mostly gone now, but you can still find some hidden in the forests.”

It was a romantic notion, and the thought of the mystical people made me think of Merlin and the Arthurian legends of Britain.

“Well, at least it’s dry,” I said, squeezing out my sopping hair.

He peered out of the opening. “We’ll be here a while.”

“What? Are you a weather whisperer now?” I asked, sitting on the dirt. I was soaked through, so no use worrying about a bit of dirt on my bum now.

“No, nothin’ like that. I work outside a lot. I’ve come to know the rain. Ireland is famous for it, after all.”

He sat next to me, and our arms touched, sending tingles all the way up and down my body. Shivering, I sank into my wet cardigan, and Boone, taking my movement to mean I was cold, wrapped his arm around my back.

He smelled like nothing I’d ever smelled before. All woodsy and spice. Nestling into his side, I turned toward him and studied the line of his jaw. He swallowed hard and angled his face toward mine. His eyes were so dark they almost looked black, but there were tiny flecks of chestnut through them. When he was a fox, they were a rich honey. He was cute as a fox, I hadn’t lied about that, but as a man…phwoar.

“Skye…” he murmured, drawing attention to his mouth.

Realizing I was an inch away from kissing him, I turned away. Tucking my chin against my shoulder, my cheeks flushed scarlet. That was a really close call.

The last thing I needed right now was to fall in love with a shapeshifter. Everything was in chaos, and flinging myself into a romance with the one person who understood what I was becoming would only lead to more shenanigans I didn’t have the heart to deal with.

At the thought of my heart, my mind turned to Aileen and her heart attack. The more I learned about this secret supernatural world, the more I was beginning to doubt. And that included the circumstances of her death.

“Boone?”

“Yeah?”

“If there are creatures out there hunting witches… Then… Was it really a heart attack that killed Aileen?” Now that the almost-kissed moment had passed, I was able to look at him again.

He hesitated, and I knew it had been a lie.

“Was it a craglorn?” I demanded. “Did it… Was she…”

“No,” he said firmly. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” He didn’t move. He just sat there uncomfortably, not uttering a single world. “Tell me!”

“I… I went outside the boundary,” he began, shifting away from me. “There was a woman who used to live here, though no one remembers her. Hannah. I thought she was like me, but she wasn’t.”

“What was she?” I asked as dread began to seep into my bones.

“She was one of the higher fae. A spriggan, she was. A spirit of the forest. A trickster.” He ran his hands over his face. “She broke my arms and legs and trapped me. It was Aileen who…”

He didn’t