The Skinwalker's Apprentice by Claribel Ortega Read Free Book Online Page B

to The Priestess, and she could smell the sharp fragrance of witch hazel and something resembling rum emanating from her teacher. 
    “Hurry, that water will come down and crush us at any moment,” said The Priestess breathlessly. Margo turned her broom towards the shore and began to ascend, but just then the river began to cave in just a few yards away from them.
    “Ride underneath to the shore, it’s our only chance,” shouted The Priestess over the thundering waters, as Margo leaned down close to her broom, taking off like a shot towards land.
    The water crashed down on either side of them, nipping at The Priestess’s heels. Above them violent waves collided into each other, their only way out was forward.
    Margo held on firmly, her face raw from the combination of frigid water and whipping winds. She had never been so terrified in her entire life, as the water threatened to engulf them both, but that fear took a back seat to her resolve. She weaved masterfully through the cyclone which was forming beneath the river, keeping her eyes on what little she could see of the trees.
    Finally, the two witches reached the shore; drenched, out of breath, and shaking. Neither said a word for a few minutes, and they watched in silence as the river fell into its bed once again.
    The Priestess broke their silence, looking at Margo with shock still in her eyes.
    “It’s safe to say,” she said, panting, “that you’ve passed that lesson with flying colors.”

Chapter 7
    New York, New York
    October 5, 1984
    Emerald ran her fingers along a stack of leather books. She’d been to this room before, hundreds of times. She knew it would be no different than any of the other days. The books she searched for, the ones her mother read to her and used for spells, weren’t there. She had traversed every library, bookstore, and back page ad with promises of ‘Authentic Magic Spells,’ but they had all been dead ends.
    She slumped down to the wooden floor of her favorite library, the one on Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street with the marble lions standing watch, and leaned back on her hands, looking up at the ceiling. She didn’t remember much about her mother and even less about her father. She didn’t care to remember him, though, since he’d abandoned Emerald once her mother was gone. Her mother, on the other hand, didn’t have a choice about leaving. She had passed away in the summer of 1973, the year Emerald turned five years old. It was all a blur to the sixteen-year-old witch now; all she knew was one day she had her mother, and the next she didn’t. Emerald had grown up hearing stories about Penelope from Nora, and those stories had become Emerald’s memories.
    As she stared at the ceiling, she thought of her favorite memory. It was a warm breezy night, and they were still living in the estate her parents owned in Spuyten Duyvil, New York, a small town in the northern part of New York City. The two-building home was separated by a courtyard and looked like an Italian villa with its ivy-covered stone walls. It sat overlooking the Hudson, and that night it rested beneath an enormous blanket of stars.
    Emerald and her mother were sitting on the grass in their backyard, talking about who knows what. Nora was always close by in case anything happened, as Penelope wasn’t strong enough to do much on her own anymore.
    Emerald looked at her mom with her bright green eyes and asked, “Momma, how many do you love me?”
    Penelope chuckled and kissed the top of Emerald’s head, pushing tufts of sandy blonde hair back as she did.
    “Do you mean how much?” she asked with a sideways smile. Penelope looked up at the sky, and then down at her little girl. “Well, I love you as much as all the stars in the sky.”
    “And … how many is that?” asked Emerald, cocking her head to the side, much like she still did even at sixteen.
    Penelope smiled and closed her eyes, touching the tips of her ten fingers together.
    Suddenly, it seemed