Page 3 of Familiar of the Witch

Mack hauled me away from Bastion into the dark depths of the dead city. I held my griffin’s gaze for as long as I could, hating the thought of being without him. He’d been my shadow for weeks and with him near me I felt safe, even when the whole world seemed to be gunning for me. Without him, I hated how bereft I felt. I’m not weak and I don’tneedanybody – but I definitelywantedhim.

Mack left the other wizards behind, no doubt to hold back Bastion. Fools: they’d have been better trying to stop the tide. I had no doubt he’d find another way into the underground city because the only order he would obey was not to massacre the guards.

I’d expected to be taken straight to the Coven Council but instead I was escorted to a dank cell, one in a row of five. None of the others were occupied. There was no natural light and the two torches of burning oil offered meagre light. Cosy.

There was nothing in the corridor bar the cells, and there were no other guards in sight. The wizards were relying on magic-cancelling cuffs and steel bars to confine me. That was lazy.

I sniffed. ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I said to Mack, wishing my hands were free so that I could put them on my hips to reinforce my disapproval. ‘This hovel isnotappropriate accommodation.’

‘Don’t make me push you in,hula witch,’ he snarled. The gleam in his eyes suggested that he wanted an excuse to do just that, so I pressed my lips together in a firm line and swanned in like it was the Ritz. I blithely ignored his pathetic insult. I was proud of my use of hula hoops in salt circles and frankly, the insult made me smile every time.

I turned to face him as he clanged the cell door shut behind me. The door was made of metal bars, giving me no privacy whatsoever. ‘Mack,’ I called as he started to walk away.

He turned back to face me. ‘What?’

I smiled. ‘I won’t forget this.’ And, more importantly, neither would Bastion.

‘I don’t give a fuck what you remember. Hilary was a friend of mine.’

Mack was a wizard but that didn’t mean he wasn’t working for the black Coven. ‘Are you employed by black witches, Mack? No one else is around. You can tell me the truth.’

‘Fuck you,’ he spat. ‘Hilary was the kindest witch I’ve ever met. I won’t have you tarnish her good name. She was innocent and you’re a murderess. You’re going to live in these dungeons for the rest of your life, so get used to it.’ He stalked out.

His outrage seemed real; he really did believe in Hilary’s innocence. How cute. So he wasn’t working for the black Coven, then; he was just your average ignorant asshole. I rarely swear – even within the confines of my own head – but that man deserved that moniker.

I looked around. The underground city, known as ‘the dead city’ by the witches, is cold and dark. We have electricity and running water down here nowadays but it looked like my damp dwelling had neither. Wonderful.

Mack hadn’t bothered to search me. Perhaps his rage had made him incompetent, or maybe he was just bad at his job. Perhaps he believed that, cuffed as I was, I could do no damage. He was wrong.

My athame was strapped to my ankle, hidden by my swishing, full-length skirt. It is highly unusual for a witch to arm herself; after all, that’s why we hire wizards as bodyguards. With the wizards’ skill in the IR – the intention and release – they have powerful magic at their fingertips that we simply can’t compete with. We only have runes and potions that are time-consuming to produce and activate.

But someone had been trying to kill me for weeks and only a fool remains unarmed in those circumstances. My blade reassured me a little. With my magic ripped away I felt vulnerable, but I wasn’t wholly without my defences. I had cold hard steel – and a potion bomb in my skirt pocket. Without my magic to activate it, it was as much use as a fire elemental at sea but I still I felt better knowing it was there.

I paced around the small cell that was only three metres by three metres. My mattress was thin, hard and narrower than a single bed. My toilet was a bucket. There was no sink. The place was absolutely disgusting. The Council would be hearing about this.

I strode around the cell – I refused to call it a room – fifty times. When I’d dissipated some of my nervous energy, I sat on the bed. It wasn’t long until the cold penetrated my limbs and I started to shiver.

Bastion had been removed from my side. With the black witches desperate for my blood, now was the perfect opportunity for them to strike. I wished I’d had more sleep last night. Goddess knew, I wouldn’t be getting any tonight.

Chapter 3

I was jerked awake as someone whispered my name. Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to be sleeping. I opened my gritty eyes and peered into the darkness. The electric-blue backpack was obvious even in the dark.

‘Kass?’ I whispered in surprise, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Amber, I am so sorry.’ She was wringing her hands. ‘This is a farce.’

‘That’s exactly how I feel about it,’ I muttered grumpily.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’ve been better.’ I yawned. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s 3am. I’m sorry to wake you but I snuck in when Mack swapped shifts. Daryl let me in. He thinks you’re innocent.’

‘Daryl…’ My mind was blank for a moment then my sleepy neurons started to fire, ‘Willow’s guard?’

‘Yes.’

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