Broken Bond - Callie Rose Page 0,44
until the danger is over.
Archer unlocks the giant padlock on the sliding barn doors, and the five of us enter the dim, musty interior. He leaves the doors open and heads for the walls, where he cranks open the high windows up near the vaulted ceiling. The other men leap into action to help him until a row of open windows lets in light and a cross-breeze all the way around the building.
The floors are covered in soft, spongy black mats that bounce as I walk across them. Trystan, Dare, and Ridge head toward the side wall and sit on the floor. My heart thuds dully in my chest as I glance over at them. I lick my suddenly dry lips, trying to banish the sudden certainty that this is a horrible idea.
Archer circles me and plants his body firmly between me and the other shifters. “Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs, taking me by both arms as if to hold me on my feet.
“Too late.”
“Okay. Be nervous, but let me help ease your mind. How’s that?” He gives me a crooked smile.
I wrinkle my nose. “That seems impossible.”
“It’s not impossible,” Archer admonishes me gently. “Take a deep breath, then go sit in that chair.”
I follow his gesture to a single folding metal chair placed in the middle of the soft mats. I don’t know if Archer left it there specifically for me, or if it’s been placed in that spot for a while. The latter seems more likely, given the barest hint of dust along the back of it.
The chair is squarely in the view of the three other shifters, who are pretending to be deep in conversation in their seats by the wall—while also keeping their gazes and attention fully on us. I appreciate that they’re attempting to be discreet, but it’s clear they have no interest in whatever subject they’re chatting about. Every one of them is focused on me, which only magnifies my sense of unease.
What if something goes wrong?
Any of them could be hurt by being so close to me while my witch powers are zooming around the room. I suddenly wish none of them had decided to come with us today. It would be less risky with just me and Archer in the large room—fewer people to potentially injure.
But I know none of them will leave now. They’re committed to this. Committed to me.
So I remain silent and slide into my chair, hoping for the best.
While Archer grabs another dust-covered folding chair from the shadows in the corner, I take a few steadying breaths, listening to his voice coach me in my mind. My heart is a frightened hummingbird, and my skin is staticky with the need to run away, far and fast. But Archer seems totally calm as he brings his chair over to join me.
It squeaks as he unfolds it and then sits across from me, the two of us nearly knee to knee. Something about his presence soothes me, and I take a moment to breathe deeply like he’s taught me. I focus on the warmth drifting off his legs, on the way his lips quirk up carefully as if he’s making sure I know it’s a smile and not a threat. I appreciate that. I especially appreciate just how much he knows me.
“Witch magic is sigil-based,” Archer begins, his voice low and even. “To do magic, they must etch sigils. Whether it’s on the air, on a tree’s bark, in the ground, whatever. The act of performing magic begins with a sigil.”
“Okay. But what’s a sigil?” I ask. I recognize the word; I’ve read it in books before. But I want to be sure I understand exactly what Archer is getting at. After everything that’s happened, it feels foolish to assume I know anything.
He smiles, all white teeth on golden skin like a god incarnate, and some of the tension in my shoulders melts away. “A sigil is a magical symbol. It’s a symbol that holds power. We use sigils to reinforce our borders and keep the witches at bay, because even though wolves don’t possess the same kind of magic witches do, the symbols themselves have magic. Anyone can access that sort of magic.”
I nod, trying very hard to act like what he’s saying makes sense.
Archer grimaces. “Well, as far as my understanding goes, anyway. Everything I can teach you about magic will be from the outside looking in. I can only tell you what I’ve observed. I can’t tell