Page 102 of Hellish Witch

I wanted Killian. Every fibre of my broken being called out for him. My tattered soul screamed for it.

Yet how could I return home with him, knowing I was still a danger to everyone? How could I look Killian in the eye, knowing the next time he needed me, I could end up killing him instead of healing him?

I hadn’t realised we had an audience until Alvie cleared his throat a few feet behind us. My father and his followers had stopped further ahead, all staring at us. We’d kept our conversation hushed enough to avoid human ears, but my cheeks still warmed.

“Kill…please,” I murmured, squeezing his warm forearm. “I need to do this.”

He nodded, eyes dropping to where my pale hand covered his rich purple skin, inked with silvery chains. “I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go, sweetness.”

I flashed him a tight smile and started after the group of mages, lingering a few steps along the trail.

Alvie had watched our exchange with a soft smile in place, but something churned in his sunshine eyes as he fell in step beside me. “It seems the sister goddesses have blessed our meeting as more than chance.”

“Perhaps.” I shrugged, and the three of us trailed after the coven elder and his cronies at a small distance.

My mind reeled as we continued in silence. The coven elder snuck glances at me over his narrow shoulders, brows raised like he was still shocked.

That made two of us.

Within minutes, the first buildings appeared through the trees, dotted along the path lined with mismatched paving stones. A luxurious village appeared in a large clearing, branching off the widening path that arrowed through the middle. Crescent rows of two-storey cabins sprang up from the forest, the neat squares blending in with the grey-hued trees surrounding the vast open area. In a way, it reminded me of a more uniform, lavish version of the Hybrid Kingdom.

Apart from the rogue hunters, their forest was pretty fangless though.

Mages of all ages and races milled around, giving our party curious gazes and friendly waves as we passed. Just normal people. Who could also do magic.

They seemed nowhere near as bloodthirsty or prejudiced as I’d have expected.

Children giggled, running around with colourful ribbons streaming behind them while harried parents tried to herd them. A cluster of young women sat outside a sprawling cabin we passed, tying bundles of sage leaves together and stacking them on a pile.

The deeper into coven territory we walked, the more buzz filled the air. Chatter, laughter, excited crowds, busy people. Flame-roasted meat, sage leaves, and wood smoke flavoured the cool air.

The coven elder passed the central row of buildings and stopped inside the last ring with his followers.

I avoided his gaze, taking my time assessing what looked like the heart of the coven.

An open-sided shelter spanned the middle, like an enormous gazebo with a rustic canvas top. In its centre, a pile of logs burned low within a raised brazier, its base ringed by ornate white stones and rows of cushioned wicker chairs, filling with people. I followed the path of the smoke, up through a tented gap in the roof and into the dusky sky above.

Two burly men hauled a platter of seasoned meats past our awkward group. They carried it towards an outdoor kitchen, sheltered within the innermost ring of buildings, and the pair loaded an enormous shiny smoker with slabs of herb-crusted joints.

They even had a pizza oven going.

Alvie and Killian eyed each other, another stare-off going down right beside me as we joined the leader.

The coven elder spoke quietly to the mages who’d accompanied him, and they each hurried off in different directions away from the main gazebo, leaving just the four of us in a bubble of hushed tension amid the hub of activity bustling around us.

I drew a full breath, scrounging up the courage to address the mage who’d apparently spaffed me out of his balls. “So… You’re my father, huh? What’s your name?”

I hated that a part of me was curious.

He winced, as if the awkwardness of the situation was hitting him too. “Orion Warren.”

Warren.

Technically, if I’d been raised in the human realm, that would be my last name. Demons rarely bothered with such things though. I was lucky I’d been given one.

Eve Warren.

It was an odd thing to consider.

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