Page 7 of Madness of Her Mages

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should tell her the truth, but she always had a way of finding out when he was lying. “For me to take her daughter.”

“The white witch?” She shot up with a gasp, splashing blood everywhere, her flappy breasts jiggling like dangling worms. “Has she grown into her powers?”

“I-I believe so,” he stammered, wishing he hadn’t told her.

Too late now, you old fool,Samael taunted.

“Good.” She licked her thin lips with a long, forked tongue. “Bring her to me.”

His blood turned to ice. “What will you do with her?”

Her eyes flared bright, demonic red. “Does it matter?”

He clenched his hands into fists. “She is Flora’s daughter.”

“Then I will send another to do it.” Her eyes shone with malice, her wicked grin the reincarnation of Satan himself. “Perhaps I will unleash my berchta.”

A tremor shot through him. “No!”

She slowly rose from the tub, rivulets of blood running down her shriveled, furry body. “Bring her to me, Thorin.”

His knees weakened. “Will it be a painless death?”

“That all depends on how long she fights me before she’s willing to relinquish her magic. Go, now.” She jutted a crooked talon toward the door. “Fetch the girl.”

A fog of depression shrouded his soul. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And, Thorin, do not defy me.” She picked flesh from her fangs. “You wouldn’t want to make me angry.”

“IS SHE ALRIGHT?”

Thorin didn’t bother looking at Flora hovering behind him like a mother dragon guarding her egg. “Of course she is,” he snapped, annoyed with Flora for asking. What did she think he’d been doing all this time? He’d been learning to master his magic. All for her. He hadn’t hurt the girl, though he could have had he wanted—taken all her memories so that she was just a shell. But no, he hadn’t taken them. He’d locked them away, and it would take powerful magic to open them.

“Why isn’t she waking?” Flora’s voice broke and cracked like shattered glass.

Thorin cringed. Had Flora always sounded so shrill? “She will.” He looked down at Flora’s sleeping child with fondness, a beam of moonlight cutting through the tree branches and setting her skin aglow. She looked too much like her mother, only she still had a youthful sheen to her skin, whereas Flora’s skin was wan and, dare he say, a little sallow. He wondered if Tarianya was as kind as her mother had been. He had a feeling she was. She’d been born a green witch, after all.

Samael’s chuckle reverberated low and deep in his skull.Don’t fall for the child, you old fool,he scolded.Our mistress plans to eat her.

Shut up,he snapped, but said nothing more. Damn the demon for being right. But what if Thorin didn’t bring her to his mistress? What if he hid her away from his mistress’s spies?

Then you’re an even bigger fool than I imagined,the demon hissed.

Derrick swore and Flora gasped when a wolf howled somewhere in the distance. The shifters would not be happy if they learned what Thorin had done to their witch. And the moon was full tonight, which meant the shifters would be more feral, more deadly.

Thorin scanned the forest’s shadows, the birds and other creatures going eerily quiet as a chill swept up his spine. He scowled at Flora and Derrick. “We need to go.”

Derrick frowned down at him, his wings spread wide like imposing black sails, and Thorin was painfully reminded of his feeble wings. Perhaps that had been Derrick’s intention. Thorin wouldn’t put it past the preening peacock. “How will you get her back?”

He bristled at the skepticism in Derrick’s tone. “The same way I came.”

Derrick crossed beefy arms over his chest. “I’ll follow you and carry her.”

Indignation flushed his face. “You think I can’t carry her?”

The hint of a smirk tugged at Derrick’s mouth. “Iknowyou can’t.”

Thorin clenched his fists by his sides as he slowly stood, his knees cracking with the movement. How badly he wanted to blast Derrick’s mind until he was nothing but an empty shell, but curse the bastard, he was right. Thorin wasn’t strong enough to carry her all the way to his mistress.

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