The Wolf and the Witch (Witch Walker, #3)

by Charissa Weaks

“I have crossed from the living realm to the realm of the dead,” he says, voice hard, words sharp as knives. “I have walked where only spirits trod. Now I know I did it for her. I was looking for her. I think I’ve always been looking for her, even if my mind didn’t understand. Even if it latched onto any other reason for my actions. Because my soul knew. It knew I would find her in the valley, and so I went there. It knew she would eventually be a witch in the vale, and so I took witches. That part of me didn’t recognize her until she grew older and became more like the woman I once knew, standing there surrounded by night and fire with rage in her eyes and a scythe in her hand. That part of me would’ve died for her that night in Silver Hollow. It would’ve done anything to protect her and keep her safe. It helped her return to me from the prince and the Shadow World’s grip. So how dare you tell me that I cannot find her. How dare you think that anything will keep me from her.”

Why suddenly, you think I need a hero. I’m my own fucking hero. Don’t forget it.”