Page 1 of An Oath at Midnight

PROLOGUE

Magnolia

My heart raced so fast, I felt dizzy.

He was back.

It was really freaking hard, but I sat as still as I could and stopped myself from turning to look at him again. The sly glances I’d managed his way; there was no missing how utterly magnificent he was. Goddess, he was living, breathing midnight. Every part of him, from his pointed beak to his vicious-looking talons was black. His feathers, so shiny, I was desperate to feel how silky they’d be against my fingertips.

He was beautiful.

I’d spotted him for the first time a month ago. He’d been perched in the huge oak tree that bordered our cemetery, and every day since he’d come closer. I wanted to talk to him, badly, but I had to wait. He needed to approach me, that’s what Willow and Iris said.

He needed to come to the realization that he was my familiar on his own. If I tried to force the connection, I could freak him out and he might leave. But it was so hard to wait. So hard not to run over to tell him that he was mine. That we’d be best friends forever, and that no matter what happened to either of us, we’d always have each other. Butterflies went wild in my belly, and I forced myself to breathe through them.

I couldn’t take it. I had to peek at him one more time, and I glanced over my shoulder.

Coal-black eyes locked with mine, and something invisible, but huge, hit me so hard that I rocked back, sucking in a startled breath. Happiness, the kind I never knew existed, filled me, and it was so vast there was no stopping the smile from spreading across my face.

The big black crow’s wings extended, and with a caw, he dove from the tree branch and flew away.

I jumped off my seat. “Don’t go! Come back! Please, come back!”

What had I done? What if he never came back? What if I’d ruined everything? I wanted to run after him, but I’d never be able to catch up to him…and if he didn’t want to be found, I’d never see him again.

I couldn’t remember the last time I cried, but tears welled in my eyes now.

My head jerked back, a cry bursting from me. I touched my forehead, and my fingers came away coated in blood. A rock lay at my feet.

I looked up at the sound of laughter. Amelia and her best friends Leah and Claire watched me. Each holding rocks in their hands. Amelia smirked, and her familiar, Scott, a feline shifter at her side, puffed out his chest with a smirk.

I straightened. They hated me, all of them. I wasn’t sure why, but it’d been that way since we met on my first day of elementary school. Amelia had taken one look at me and decided I was a threat to her, that’s what Wills said, anyway. She said that jealousy made people act like assholes.

Scott tilted his head to the side, his green, feline eyes moving over me. “You get uglier every time I see you.”

Amelia threw her head back laughing as Scott took the stone from her hand.

“Start running.” He grinned. “We’re just trying to help you. Look at yourself, you could use the exercise.”

I stood there in shock, blood still dripping down the side of my face. “Aren’t you a little old for this playground bully bullshit?” I said, pleased when my voice came out strong and not as shaken as I felt.

“Run,” he said again with more force, throwing the rock in the air and catching it. “Or I’ll open up the other side of your face.”

“Run, you stupid bitch,” Amelia said, then snatched the rock back from her familiar and threw it.

I covered my head with my hands, ducking.

The rock was snatched out of the air, followed by a thud as black boots hit the ground in front of me.

It was him—my crow.

But there were no feathers this time. No, this time, he was in his human form. I straightened, taking in the boy in front of me. He was tall, towering over me, and thin. He wore black jeans and no shirt, and through his dirt-streaked skin I could see several tattoos on his back and arms.

The witches across from us stared at him in shock. Scott flexed his biceps, hands fisted at his sides, and took a step forward. I couldn’t see my crow’s face, and he said nothing, just shook his head, making his glossy black hair move in a way I knew it’d feel as silky as his wings would.

Scott stopped in his tracks. He was still scowling, trying to look tough, but there was real fear in his eyes. “I’m finished with these fucking losers,” he announced, then spat on the ground and strode away, Amelia and her friends rushing after him.

I stood still and silent behind my crow, waiting for him to turn around, and prayed to the mother that he wouldn’t shift and fly away again. The muscles in his back flexed, and I held my breath, but he didn’t change forms and fly away, he turned.