Page 17 of The Witch and His Crow

He’d just spoken about Romy. No wonder he was agitated. Jonathan was breathless, hand shaking as he gripped the phone to his ear. The wall near him suffered the brunt of his fist as he turned to punch it. I heard the ripping of his knuckles over stone, followed by the hiss of pain as he drew back his hand.

‘Wait, Caym.’ Something was stopping me from going. Caym sunk his talons into my shoulder. The pain hardly bothered me, nor did the promise of yet another scar he would leave on me after needing to drag me away. ‘Not yet.’

Jonathan continued pacing, his drawn-out silence proof that whoever he spoke to was currently on a tirade. But out of everything I expected him to say next, what came out of his mouth was never a possibility.

‘Have I not assured you enough that I am on your side, Tomin?’

There was only one man with that name. Only one man worthy of the barrage of hate that battered me just at hearing it repeated. Caym knew it too, which was why he didn’t attempt to tell me we’d heard wrong.

Tomin. Tomin Hopkin. Head witch hunter. And the man who’d stood and commanded his own son to murder my parents.

Jonathan was practically crying, his hollow cheeks flushed with colour. ‘Father Tomin, please.’

Caym’s grip tightened, keeping me from tearing out from the shadows, snatching the phone, and demanding the elusive man’s location.

This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Jonathan was acting Grand High—he controlled witches across the world. And yet he was speaking on the phone to our enemy, pleading as though hewas some powerless grunt at the bottom of the Witch Hunter’s barrel.

‘Your championwillsucceed in the Witch Trials,’ Jonathan said, clutching his bleeding hand, trying to regain composure. ‘I will see to it. Everything is in place for them to win, Tomin, I understand my word is not final. But have I not proved my allegiance? Have I not given you enough to trust my intentions?’ Jonathan took a heaving breath in, his body radiating anxiety.

I, on the other hand, was boiling with ire. My skin bubbled, my blood twisting in my veins until the pain was almost pleasurable.

‘He’s betraying us,’ I spoke to the dark, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. ‘Jonathan is working withthem.’

Them. The monsters who’d ruined my life. The people solely responsible for the eradication of witch-kind.

‘Speculation leads the lost lamb astray,’ Caym replied, although even he didn’t sound convincing. ‘We do not know what is going on.’

‘Yes,’ I growled, eyes narrowing, power fizzing beneath my skin. ‘Yes I do.’

Jonathan straightened, his posture uncurling, his expression steeling as Tomin continued his speech on the other line. What came next was the confirmation of my darkest fears.

‘Our goal is shared, Father. Your champion will be victorious during the Witch Trials. They shall take the mantle of Grand High, using the power to finally cleanse the world of demons. But I must hear you say it. Youmustconfirm that my daughter will be left unharmed.’

Jonathan swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing. ‘Her name? It’s Romy Bailey. Kill the rest of them, destroy them, burn them. Hells, your champion can do whatever they see fit to do. Just leavemyRomy alone.’

Clearly the response was what Jonathan longed to hear, because he smiled, his shoulders relaxing.

‘Of course, Father. The Briar boy will not be an issue. I’ve done as you asked and left him alive. He is all yours to play with. We’ve pumped him with enough thistlebane that the effects should last a day or so. He’ll be powerless for the first trial.’

Jonathan took his fingers and crossed himself, physically depicting the Witch Hunter’s prayer. My stomach twisted in on itself, watching the person who vowed to look after our kind throw us to the literal wolves. ‘Forever your loyal subject.’

The phone call ended. Jonathan released a long sigh, his smile never faltering.

‘Hector, no.’ Caym sensed what was to come next before my command left my lips.

‘Take me back to my cell.’

‘No’

‘Take me back!’ My gift ached beneath my skin, forcing my bones to rattle. I couldn’t fathom what I’d just heard. ‘Or you let me kill Jonathan right here, right now. The choice is yours.’

Either one would’ve been a win-win for me. And the choice, in fact, didn’t belong to Caym. As he said, I was his master. If I commanded it, if I truly asked for something, he was powerless to say no.

‘Do not make me do this, Hector. I made a promise, I cannot keep it if?—’

‘Return me to my cell.’ I grabbed onto the invisible leash binding us together and tugged. Guilt simmered in my soul, but I did this for the right reasons. No matter if it displeased Caym, I knew that going back to my cell was the only option.

Jonathan Bailey was working with the Witch Hunters. The Witch Trials were rigged. Somehow, a Witch Hunter had been entered into the contest with the plan of winning, taking the witches’ source of power for themselves.

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