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

“Hey, you!” I cried, my voice echoing around the cave. “Sluagh off!”

I pulled my arm back and propelled the rock forward, throwing it toward the opposite end of the cavern. The pebble bounced against the rock fall, clattering and making an awful racket. The sluagh stopped their wriggling at the spring, and in a whoosh of air, the shadows flew across the cave, chasing my magical tennis ball like a pack of chocolate Labradors.

“Holy guacamole!” I declared.

“Quick, the athame.”

I slipped the strap over my head and set my bag on the rock. Taking out the checkered tea towel I’d put the athame in that morning, I unwrapped it. Holding the dagger by the hilt, I plunged the entire thing into the water and hoped for the best.

At first, nothing happened other than my hand almost dropping off the water was so cold, but then a dull glow started to permeate the spring.

“Something’s happening,” I said excitedly. “You see that?”

“Aye,” Boone replied, one eye still on the sluagh. “It’s workin’.”

I sighed in relief as the light began to grow, revealing strange markings on the dagger. From hilt to tip, it writhed with a growing power. Deep down, I knew this was what we needed to defeat the craglorn. It had to be.

“There,” I said, pulling the athame out of the water. “Glowy symbols on a magical dagger. That’s a good sign.” I set it back onto the tea towel and wrapped it up, shoving it safely back into my bag. “Let’s get out of here.”

The second the words left my mouth, the sluagh rushed toward the spring, tearing past me in a torrent I couldn’t fight. My feet slipped on the rock, and I fell. I cried out, reaching for Boone’s hand, but I was swept under the water.

I lost all control, my bones chilling as I was completely submerged in the spring. Holding my breath, I fought against the shadows, alarmed at the depths I was being dragged to. From above, it was just a tiny pool, but it descended deep through the mountain. It had to, right? It was the lifeblood of Ireland, after all.

Kicking against the hands of the sluagh, I tried desperately to break free. My lungs were burning for air, and my strength was waning. I was going to be drowned by a bunch of shadows that wanted to eat my soul. Put that on a tombstone.

I only had seconds left before my body would take over and suck in lungsful of water, so I suppose this was one of those times where I was meant to use my magic despite the risk. Life and death, and all of that.

Pulling against the shadowy hands, I curled into a ball and imagined myself full of golden light. The image grew and intensified, and the sluagh began to frenzy, their tendrils dragging painfully against my skin. Throwing my arms wide, the water exploded in a billion tiny bubbles, forcing the sluagh to recoil away from the blinding light. Finally free, I stretched upward, reaching toward the surface and kicking with everything I had left.

Just as the last of my energy burned out, a hand appeared through the murkiness and grasped hold of my forearm. My lungs burned as Boone’s face came into view, his hair distorted by the water, his eyes glowing green. Was he… Did he have gills? He never told me he’d made an affinity with a fish. I was so going to tease him about it until he was begging for mercy.

He pulled me toward the surface, his strength overshadowing my own, and when we broke the surface, we fell onto the rocks—me, gasping for air, and him, gasping for water.

“Cac,” I said, using the Irish word for shit. It seemed appropriate.

“Are you all right?” Boone asked, his gills disappearing and his lungs filling with air.

“You were a fish,” I muttered between gasps.

“Aye. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but…” He rose to his feet, dripping everywhere, and helped me stand.

Behind us, the sluagh had resumed their flurried frenzy at the mouth of the spring, completely ignoring us now I was free.

I was soaked through. My shirt clung to my skin, my jeans were clogged, and my hair was stuck to my face. There was nothing left to the imagination, and Boone was in much the same state.

I breathed deeply, staring into his dark eyes, warm with the afterglow of magic and high from the rush of escaping certain death.

“I have no idea what I did,” I murmured. “I was so scared… Boone, I…”

“I was afraid I’d lost you,” he whispered.

“I’m here… I’m…”

Before I had the chance to finish my thought, he grasped my face in his hands and caught me in a kiss, his lips moving against mine. I clung to him, my fingers tightening in his damp T-shirt, and my heart soared. At that moment, I was glad to be alive. Alive and kissing Boone. Finally.

Our bodies pressed together, his muscled chest and my slight form, and I gave myself to him as he’d given himself to me the day I’d found out the truth of Aileen’s death. I wasn’t sure how much of myself was free to give, but what I had and what I understood was his.

“Skye…” My name was a sigh on his lips, and I trembled in his grasp.

“Boone, I…”

He smoothed my wet hair away from my face. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”

“Boone…” I wasn’t sure what to say, but he seemed to get I was on the same wavelength.

He glanced at the sluagh and then took my hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 18

Sean was furious at the state of his car when we got back to Derrydun.

The upholstery was damp, and we’d tracked mud on the floors. Boone offered to clean it out, but nothing seemed to placate the man. If only he knew.

We’d pretty much dried