Read Autumn's War (The Spirit Shifters Book 4) for Free Online Page A

erupt from the top, and then lit the herbs. They began to smolder, a pungent smoke rising into the air. He looked between Autumn and Tocho. “Are you both ready now?”
    They nodded simultaneously.
    “Then, Autumn, please roll up your sleeve.”
    She offered the arm that hadn’t already been cut. By the end of this, she had a feeling she was going to look like something out of a horror movie.
    Unlike her previous experiences, Lakota’s touch was gentle. He turned her hand so it lay palm up. He placed the sharpest point of the obsidian glass against her skin, the blue veins a network of rivers below her pale flesh, and gently pushed. A sharp sting of pain pierced her arm. Autumn gasped, but she held still, not wanting to jeopardize anything. Her blood started as a dot of red that quickly swelled, and within seconds the blood flowed down the channel in the obsidian and pooled in the indentation below.
    “That’s all we need,” said Lakota, pressing on the wound with the piece of cloth the obsidian had been wrapped in. He motioned for Autumn to keep pressing down on the wound while he moved his attentions elsewhere.
    He held the obsidian so the blood contained within it wouldn’t spill, and turned to Tocho. “Now it’s your turn.”
    The man got up from the chair and seated himself, crossed-legged on the floor.
    “I will be saying some prayers during the process. Please try to stay quiet.”
    Autumn sent Tocho what she hoped was a reassuring smile. The other man smiled back, but the expression was strained.
    “Are you ready?” Lakota asked him.
    Tocho nodded.
    Lakota repositioned the obsidian so it was placed at the indent of the inside of Tocho’s elbow. Anxiously, Autumn watched Tocho’s expression as Lakota pressed the sharp tool into Tocho’s arm. It seemed he needed to create a bigger wound than the one he’d caused on Autumn, because the obsidian plunged deeper, the tip vanishing inside Tocho’s flesh.
    Lakota sang his prayers in a low hum, calming and peaceful, though Autumn felt anything but. They were ancient songs, ones she imagined to be sung in a forest, surrounded by nature, rather than in a tourist shack.
    Tocho gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. Every muscle in his body tightened to the point of snapping. Lakota tipped the obsidian so the blood he’d collected poured into Tocho’s wound, the stone keeping the hole open. Some of the blood, probably a mixture of both hers and his, trickled down the inside of his arm and dripped onto the rug.
    Could she feel the spirits around her? Drawn in by a mixture of Lakota’s words, the smoldering herbs, and her blood. The hair rose on her arms and the back of her neck. She was sure she could feel souls standing around her, a tension in the air that hadn’t been present before.
    Lakota removed the obsidian from Tocho’s arm and said a couple of final words. He touched him on the head like a priest blessing a member of his flock, and then moved back.
    Autumn watched, her breath caught in her chest in anticipation. She knew there would be a pause between the addition of her blood, and the spirit taking hold, but a part of her still worried the connection wouldn’t happen. That all of this was just one big fraud.
    But Tocho’s eyes suddenly widened, except not in fear this time, but wonder. He stared up at something above her head she could not see. His whole body relaxed, a calmness stealing over his expression. The start of a smile began to tweak the corners of his lips.
    And then something snapped.
    Tocho cried out, the expression on his face switching to contorted agony.
    His shoulder jerked back, dislocating from the socket. His arm yanked up and another crack echoed around the room as something else broke. He fell to all fours, but his arms weren’t able to hold him and he toppled forward to land on his face. His face was directed at Autumn, and she tried to hide her horror and fear as the man’s mouth and nose extended from his face, his