Page 49 of The Girl in the Forest

I didn’t look back. Instead, I followed the path that steepened until the witch’s cave loomed, a gaping maw waiting to swallow me. Sand the color of drab olives made walking sluggish. Sweet incense thickened the air. Bronze bowls in wall sconces flickered with unnatural flames.

In the slithering light, I could see small depressions in the sand—what remained from earlier footprints. Breadcrumbs, meant to lead me onward.

I paused, searching with my human senses. Testing the air flow. Then I searched with my faille senses. Evaluating the threats.

Impressions lingered: heated waves of bravery masking icy fear. Pounding hearts and stuttered breathing. On the sand, I noticed discarded things: bits of cloth, metal that had no meaning. Tiny, whitened bones half buried from creatures who wandered here, perhaps eaten by what flew overhead on nearly silent wings.

Foreboding crept in like the echo of distant screams, although I heard nothing except my breathing. Around me, arching caverns and blackened tunnels branched off, leading in all directions like a monk’s cave—a maze with many choices. Some tunnels expelled frigid air. Others offered the dry rustle of abandoned graves. But as I passed, the whispers began, voices I recognized. My mother. Leo. Levi. Even Stewart’s voice.

Come, come, come.

Lie, lie, lie.

Air flow was real, and I followed it, measuring the gradual warmth as I ventured deeper. The distance between the burning bronze bowls made the shadows denser, and when a chitinous clicking came from the left, I snapped the bow upward. Nocked an arrow and focused on the creaking of wood against the bending force of the bowstring.

Every muscle strained as I tracked by sound—there. Claws digging at rock.

Real, real, real.

My pulse jackknifed as I scanned the inky corners. My eyes hurt from staring into the dark while images bloomed in my mind—pale, crab-like creatures, spelled nymphs swarming from the ground. I remembered the woman in a flowing yellow dress, running… then lying dead in a boat, her hands clutching a child’s teddy bear.

Concentrate!

A creature shot from the dark. Instinctively, I released the bowstring, shuddering at the high-pitched squeal. Another image flashed of a sunlit glade and a rabbit with blades of grass in her mouth.

I couldn’t suppress the nausea, even when I realized what I’d killed.

“You shot a damn rat.” The words were gritty on my lips. My braid was warm and damp against my nape. But the rat was as large as a rabbit—intentional, I realized. Just like the scream.

They are seers, Noa. Looking into the past. Using illusions against you.

I pulled the arrow free, dragged the tip through the sand to get rid of the blood. It wasn’t one of the poisoned arrows. Mace hadn’t thought they’d be necessary on this trip. Small comfort as I re-nocked the arrow and listened to the creak of the bow.

My pulse steadied.

But the sting of nettles snapped against my skin.

The acrid taste of ashes dried my mouth.

White fog crept across the sand, inching toward me with seeking tentacles, or a flicking snake’s tongue, tasting the air.

A wave of vertigo had me swaying. But the fog paused, curled before withdrawing, and once it completely disappeared, I forced myself to move, step after step. Venturing into the unfathomable dark.

Wall sconces appeared less frequently, their flames guttering to embers. Shadows changed, some darker and others lighter—as if the moon had risen over a midnight garden. And yet, there was no bioluminescent light to account for the change.

The scent of roses floated in the air, then the spice of Leo’s aftershave that I’d bought him year after year. I breathed in the smoky tang from a campfire next, and then… pine trees dripping in the rain.

With the scents came the memories.

My throat spasmed; I let the emotions flow since emotion fed the witches. Losing Leo. Finding him again. My hands on a man’s body, knowing he’d push me away.

The way we’d raged at each other. Then turned cold and distant.

My feet dragged with the effort to plow forward. The air continued to warm, gentle now, and when the passage widened into an arching cavern, it was as if the sun had chased the moon away.

The light was too bright for my eyes. I squinted at the white stone walls, laced with intricate silver carvings of vines, trees, flowers, birds. The detail was exquisite. Even insects hid amidst the leaves that decorated every surface, every stone column.

On the cave floor, black sand sparkled with chips of mica while tall, golden torchieres flickered with white flames. Through the ceiling oculus, a perfect cone of light fell to illuminate the Gemini Witches.

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