Page 16 of The Witch and His Crow

Old stone walls pressed in on me from either side. Windowless spaces, where the only light offered was from the florescent bulbs hanging above me, so stark it encouraged the beginnings of a headache.

I threw a ball of energy out towards every security camera I saw. Not to destroy them, but to simply move their line of sight so I could pass undetected. For all I knew, guards had returned to my empty room and found me missing. An alarm would surely be sounded if that was the case? But I treated every second as though it could be my last.

I had no understanding of where I was running—for all I knew I could be moving in the same direction as Romy.

History told of witches who could cast spells and hexes, relying on the old magics of the world rather than these Gifts, a rather modern tool in our arsenal. If I had access to one of the greats grimoires, I could have opened a portal between spaces or alter the very matter of the stone walls so I could walk right through. Instead, I was forced to run like some pathetic mortal.

‘Pathetic yes, mortal no.’ Caym chided. He was close. I could practically hear his wing beats beyond the building.

‘Not. Helpful,’ I replied, breathless.

My goal was simple. I didn’t plan to fight my way out of a heavily guarded tower. Instead I was looking for something simpler. A window. All I needed was to allow Caym entry and thenwoosh, I could fade into the shadows.

Daylight spilled in ahead, casting the corridor I had just rounded into in a halo of golden-hued light. Relief came thick and fast. Beyond the thin glass I could hear the sounds of tourists visiting the surrounding buildings. I knew that the floors above me were where the mortal Queen’s crown jewels were kept. Hundreds of thousands of humans flocked here yearly to gape at expensive jewels in glass boxes.

If only they knew thetruewonder hiding beneath them.

‘Ready to get the fuck out of here?’ I asked, filling my thoughts with the question.

Caym emitted a caw so loud I swore it could’ve etched the meaning into my bones.‘Correct, Master, but it is you stuck in the cage this time, not me.’

I was so focused on reaching the window that I didn’t notice the sliding glass doors just ahead of it. I stopped, chest aching, feet numb, as I caught a glimpse of a figure through the doors. Peering around the small corner, my heart sank like a stone in my stomach. Although I had only met the man three days prior, I would recognise Jonathan Baily’s outline anywhere.

‘Shit.’ I pressed myself against the wall, knowing my next moves had to be careful. One wrong step and I’d alert the acting Grand High to my escape. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’

‘Language, Hector.’

‘Oh, fuck off.’

Caym flew into view beyond the window. Seeing him unspooled the thread of relief, until his beady eyes settled on Jonathan.‘You are correct. Profanity certainly is the best choice in a time like this.’

My familiar’s black feathered wings gleamed as though drenched in oil. His wingspan was certainly abnormal for mundane crows, as was the russet hue of his beak. If Jonathan noticed a bird pecking at the glass, this all would be for nothing. And there was a part of me, although small, that didn’t want to incriminate Romy in my escape.

I steadied my breathing, knowing this was a moment in which I desperately needed clarity. Jonathan was clearly occupied—I could hear his muffled voice through the sliding glass doors. He was facing away from me, a phone held to his ear, his knuckles pale with the tension in his grip. Whoever he was speaking to kept interrupting him, making Jonathan’s nervous pacing only intensify. I took pleasure in knowing at least one person could make the man feel uncomfortable.

Now was my chance.

I focused on the window’s latch, slowly lifting it with invisible hands. That was what using my Gift felt like. It was an extension of me, like unseen fingers and limbs. Sometimes, like now, the power called for careful and intricate focus. Other times, it was like forcing a wall of energy out to barrel down Hunters like pins during a game of bowling. It quickly became apparent, though, that I didn’t have the time to be careful when Jonathan’s voice raised in pitch.

I risked one more look and could see he was growing increasingly distressed. The nosey part of me would’ve loved to know who held the power to shake that man, but my practical side understood my window to escape was growing smaller.

Literally.

The window creaked open with the aid of my gift. Caym shot inside just as theswishof the moving glass doors sound at my side. I reached out for my familiar, fingers grasping feather, the same second Jonathan stepped out into the corridor.

Darkness enveloped me. Pure, endless, obsidian shadow. I sunk into it like a body into a warm bath, willingly descending into the depths of Caym’s endless lake. It was comforting, a wrap of familiar arms like the embrace of a parent.

‘Do not dawdle, Hector.’Caym’s reprimand was as sharp as silver.‘A moment later and it would have been all over.’

I wouldn’t admit it aloud to my familiar, but he certainly had the power to make me feel like a misbehaving child. Not much was documented about familiars—they were outlawed after theactualwitch trials, not the deadly contest the Coven created after the old magic was lost. There was something ancient about their spirit. Caym was like a moody old man trapped in a body of feathers and shadow.

But he was my moody old man, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.

‘You’ve got me now,’ I replied, not bothering to speak through my mind. No one would hear us in the twisting world of Caym’s shadows. We were still present in the corridor, Jonathan Bailey literally feet in front of us, but we were concealed. The darkness before me rippled like a surface of water. ‘Let’s get out of here whilst we?—’

‘Do not threaten my daughter,’ Jonathan shouted, eyes bulging out of his skull. I was no empath, but the emotion etched into his physicality stopped me from speaking. ‘I understandwhat is required of me. Threats against my own are not needed… yes, Sir. I am sorry.’

‘We must go.’ Caym’s command hardly registered as I focused on Jonathan.

---