Raven Ridge (Witches of Sanctuary Book 2) by Savannah Blevins Read Free Book Online Page A

nose outlines an even longer chin. I feel myself stepping backward.
    Reid catches my hand. “Willa. Where are you going?”
    “This was a bad idea. That woman looks like she has a basket full of red apples ready to hand out like trick or treat candy and I’m already so sleepy.”
    Reid laughs, pulling me forward. “She’s not an evil queen, my dear Snow White. She’s a lonely old lady and she’s expecting us.”
    “Expecting us? How?” I glance back at the old house and the even older lady. “She doesn’t look like the cell phone type.”
    “I told you last night. I sent a message.”
    “By smoke signal?
    “Of course not.” He laughs like I’m the crazy one. “Raven.”
    I move back around to Reid’s side, and a flock of birds springs out of the bushes next to me. The commotion catches Svetta’s attention and she looks up the hill at us. Reid throws his hand up in greeting. “It’s just us, Svetta.”
    She waves for us to come down the hill. I follow, trying not to fall over the crumbling dirt beneath my feet. “Mr. Thomas,” Svetta says, smiling. “Welcome to the Ridge.”
    “Thank you for accepting my request. I apologize that it was on such short notice.”
    “No apology necessary. Come in, sit down. I brewed up a pot of tea for the occasion.”
    “Tea and apples,” I say behind Reid’s back, and he shoots me a dirty look over his shoulder.
    I’m surprised by the inside of Svetta’s house. It’s…normal. It looks like any other house. No cauldron or jars full of frog toes. Not that I have a cauldron or jar of frog toes in my house. However, I don’t look like I should have a magic mirror and an emotionally compromised huntsman on standby.
    Wind chimes sing in the background as the breeze whistles through an open window in the tiny kitchen. Potted petunias and climbing roses overflow out of scarlet and plum pots at my feet. Patchwork quilts and baskets of yarn sit next to an empty chair by the smoldering fireplace. I take in a deep breath and I swear I smell ginger. Hot and straight out of the oven.
    Maybe I’m wrong about Snow White. This house is much more like Little Red Riding Hood. It’s straight up grandma heaven in here. There’s still a big bad wolf, though. Somewhere he hides, waiting to bare his big, sharp teeth.
    Svetta motions for us to take a seat at a round table next to the window. She removes her gangly cloak and hangs it on a hook by the door. Beneath it is a gown. It’s not that different from the one I wore for the Declaration ceremony. It’s woven in beautiful colors of yellow, orange, and emerald green. The design in each layer is intricate and small. She notices me staring. “I was just admiring your dress. It’s magnificent. Did you make that yourself?”
    Svetta holds out the skirt of her dress. “An old lady has to have a hobby. Although my fingers aren’t much for sewing anymore. I much prefer to work in my garden nowadays.” She picks up a clay pitcher and brings a couple glasses over to the table. “Fresh mulberry root tea,” she says, pouring a steaming brown liquid into the glass.
    Abby notices my hesitation. “Svetta has one of the finest herb gardens in the region. She supplies Jade with some of her rarer requests.”
    “Ah.” Svetta nods, filling each glass to the brim. “That Jade. She always keeps me on my toes. Had me planting three rows of some kind of Japanese spring root this season. Almost took over my entire garden.”
    I finally smile. There is a familiar ring in Svetta’s voice. A hint of an accent hidden beneath the more obvious one that matched my friends. It’s French.
    Is this who Julien learned it from? I hadn’t noticed that Julien’s grandmother Rebeckah had any kind of accent, but I definitely hear it in Svetta’s voice.
    I cautiously take a sip of the tea. It’s a little bitter, but tolerable. “Have you always lived here?”
    Svetta passes more glasses around the table. “I was born in this house.”
    “Your