The Witch Collector (Witch Walker Book 1)

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We’ll never be even.” His dark face hardens, and he’s shaking, from fear or anger—I can’t tell which. He glances around, desperation in his eyes, then exhales a trembling breath and adds, “I tried. I did. But I must get my family to safety.” In another life, I would’ve tried to know her. I would’ve admired her and read her poems written by my own hand. I would’ve walked with her through fields of stardrops, danced with her in the stream.” You try so hard to hide it,” she says, “yet a mother knows her child better than all else. Do not let your loathing lead you—or us—to trouble, Raina. If you’re going to promise me anything, promise me that.”

Those desperate words are meant to persuade himself to leave, and I can’t imagine why he’s even still here, so I jerk my head toward the hills. “Go south or west. It’ll be easier.” She gathers her sisters and mother and herds them toward the stone wall. Although her face is still shadowed with worry, her smile brightens, and she winks playfully over her shoulder. “Finn is in the shop if that’s where you’re going. See you on the green at noon?” Finally, reality dims once more, until I’m so close to deep connection that I see nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors and light, feel nothing but power and Finn’s touch and a strange warmth radiating down my outer thigh.Every harvest moon, the Witch Collector rides into our valley and leads one of us to the home of the immortal Frost King, to remain forever. I…” My fingers still. Father never mentioned that part. I always figured he didn’t know, though I’ve always wondered. “He never said,” I reply, “but it does not matter for the task at hand.” I pause and add, “Wild deer and all.”

Feasting tables are laden with summer’s final blooms and boast more food than I’ve seen in years past. In the center of the green lies the roasting pit, which should be empty, but a boar hangs on the spit—thanks to the animal’s poor decision to flee the western hills and head toward Silver Hollow not long after sunset. The moment the words leave my hands, it hits me that I have no right to chastise Hel for not sharing this news. As much as I don’t understand it, this is her choice. One I know she’s made willingly. On the edge of my vision, Helena kisses Emmitt and leads him toward the darkness to the east. The pair disappear into the shadows, hand in hand.Shhh. There now, don’t weep. It’s over. You’re safe.” His voice is still so warm, so gentle. It’s the kind of voice a woman could find solace in, a voice that could conquer even the strongest will.” Sometimes, I wonder if we’re keeping intruders out of the wood and therefore out of the Frost King’s mysterious Winterhold. Elders! Wardens!” she screams. The tendons in her throat strain with effort, but the people tasked with guarding our village sit at a table wearing lost expressions. Heart stuttering, I freeze as his attention drifts to my scythe. He spears me with a piercing look and tilts his dark head. Those green eyes narrow, shining under the blazing torches and bonfire light. I’ve never seen his face. His head is always shielded behind the hood of his cloak. Even if I could have, I’ve always been too afraid to look him in the eye.