Page 7 of Witch's Fate

“Why the hell don’t they just let you enter through the garden?”

“They like to play with me.”

He scowled. There was something odd in his gaze. Concern? Had he not realized how dangerous her role was? What she risked to save her village?

Welcome to my life, jerk.

She turned back to the forest, swallowing hard. Part of the game was that they filled the forest with nightmares. Or perhaps the forest did that itself. She’d never known if this afterworld had been a heaven or a hell, but if she had to put money on it, she’d say hell. Though mortals weren’t aware of the fact that the heavens and hells of their religions existed, Mytheans were. Some could even travel to them.

Sofia reached out a hand for Kitty, who had turned into smoke and now hovered at her side. Nothing could touch Kitty in that form. Sofia wished she could do the same.

“We’d better get started.” She set off toward the forest, wincing at the eerie sponginess of the ground. Once, it had wept blood. After that, she’d stopped looking down.

Malcolm joined her as she picked her way between the trees. Something slithered in the distance. She drew her wand from the aether and gripped it tight.

“What have you been doing these past centuries?” Malcolm’s voice broke the silence.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Pass the time.”

“I’m not here to entertain you. That time has passed.”

“You were never merely entertainment to me.”

“Whatever.” She couldn’t even look at him. His voice sounded too good. Smooth and dark. And she still liked it. Fates, she hated her weakness. She’d held her anger close for centuries. It had protected her. It would protect her now. Shefocused on the forest ahead, choosing the path that stayed farther from the trees lest they reach out and grab her.

“I want to know about you because I’m interested.”

Hot rage flared within her. “After all these years? You gave up your right to know when you chose magic over me.”

“It was necessary,” Malcolm said.

Sofia looked at his face then. Really looked, for the first time since she’d seen him last. They didn’t really have the time to argue, but she couldn’t help herself. So little of the young man she’d known remained. This Malcolm was harsher. Darker. Nearly unrecognizable.

“No it wasn’t. You simply wanted the power more than you wanted me.” Despite the years that had passed, the words made her throat tighten, and tears threatened. She swallowed hard and forced them away.

“I wanted both.”

“Not possible.” She turned her attention back to the forest path and began walking again. This was her least favorite part. Tree roots climbed out of the ground, eerily white. They looked almost like bones.

She quickened her pace, trying to ignore him. He was a shadow at her side, so big and present that it was damn near impossible. When a tree root ripped out of the ground and lashed at her, she barely managed to lunge aside. She fell to the dirt on her knees, cursing. This is what she got for letting her guard down.

Malcolm threw out a hand and sent a blast of flame at the root. It turned to ash instantly.

“Why didn’t you use your magic?” he asked.

“The High Witches block it. I’m powerless here.” She glanced at him. He towered over her, his hand stilloutstretched and glowing. He looked like a wild god, tall and strong, his dark hair flowing back from the masculine beauty of his face and golden eyes. He was part wulver. That strength and wildness was so clear when she saw him like this. It made her want him, and she hated herself for it.

He lowered his hand to help her to her feet. She ignored it and stood on her own, then set off along the path again. Tree roots stretched up to grab at her, but Malcolm stopped them every time. Normally, she’d be exhausted and dirty by the time she reached the edge of the forest. The High Witches liked to see her bedraggled and miserable from clawing her way through. Each year, a new set of obstacles blocked her path.

But apparently Malcolm’s magic wasn’t affected by this place. Either because of his strength or because the High Witches didn’t know to expect him and therefore had not crafted a block for his magic.

Either way, she tried not to appreciate how much easier it was to make her way through the forest with him at her side.

“Is that it?” Malcolm asked after a while.

She glanced up. The High Witches’ enormous stronghold loomed on the horizon, standing guard over the dark moors that surrounded it. It looked like the worst haunted house a mortal could dream up, only ten times as big. Lightning cracked overhead, making the window glass flash like winking eyes.

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