Page 31 of The Witch and His Crow

Free of the agony, my next words were clear. ‘A mistake.’

Instead of withdrawing from Billy, I reared my neck back then cocked the hard part of my skull forwards. It cracked against the bridge of his nose, the suddenness making him reel back. Jaz realised my change of tactic, but far too late. As Billy fell backwards, arms pinwheeling, nose gushing blood, I took control. One swift kick to her gut, and I sent Jaz falling directlyinto Billy. Her scream cut through the corridor as his ice-coated hand touched her flesh.

‘Get off me!’ Jaz clawed at Billy, but most importantly his frost-coated hand was currently pressed against the side of her neck. As he tried to pull back in panic, it peeled skin away. Her eyes glowed, and he was punished for the use of his power.

My heart hammered in my chest as I stared down at them. ‘Good luck with that.’

Billy was crying out as Jaz wormed her power back into him. Both witches didn’t notice as I ran off, leaving them to deal with their sudden predicament.

I didn’t stop until I recognised the area near the Great Hall. There was no point looking to see if they followed—it would only split my focus. And right now, I needed every ounce of it.

I was familiar with death. Most nights my dreams would replay the sound of my parents’ murder.Thud. Thud. Thud. Besides that, I had stalked Witch Hunters and seen the end of so many I’d lost count years ago. But, as I navigated the castle, I felt as though I had finally seen enough death to last me a lifetime.

Bodies were strewn everywhere. Not even an hour into the first trial and the floorboards were soaked with gore. Puddles of it spread over the polished floor, splatters decorating the walls like we were in a Stephen King novel.

Cautiously, I made my way back towards the Great Hall. I was sick at the thought of what I would find when I entered it. I had last seen Romy there, so it would be the first place I checked. Even if there was a sudden silence to the castle.

The screams had died down. I didn’t know what was worse, the song of terror and pain, or the quiet that followed.

My panic only intensified as I rounded the corridor to my destination. It wasn’t who I found, but what Ididn’tfind that sent horror slicing through me.

The doors weren’t open—they were blown off the walls. The entrance of the Great Hall was nothing more than a gaping hole of stone and broken wood. There were so many bodies outside, most of which were left face down with splinters of wood protruding from their backs. These witches must have attempted to escape right when the bell tolled, but weren’t so lucky.

I stepped around the dead, blood and flesh squelching beneath my boots. When I got my first proper look at the destruction in the Great Hall, something firm grasped my ankle.

‘Help…me.’

I could barely make out the features of the witch laid out on the ground. Their face was ruined, bone visible through the gaps of their face. It was as though their face literally…melted off.

Romy. She had to have been here at some point. I quickly surveyed the dead beyond this witch but didn’t see any sign of Romy among them. But my relief was short lived. Returning my gaze back to the pleading, dying witch, I grimaced at the agony they were clearly in. Not even an animal would’ve been left alive to suffer like this. I had seen Romy’s power used once, but the horror of it would forever be recognisable.

Pulling my ankle free, though the witch continued to reach out for me. I couldn’t tell if they were crying, or if the liquid running from their bulging eyes was brain matter or blood. They gargled on their plea, the sound as feral as they looked. I didn’t want to, but pity and despair had me kneeling close to them. Clearly, they were trying to tell me something. Maybe I should have walked away, but I couldn’t.

It wasn’t until my ear was practically beside their mangled lips that I made out their next words. ‘Kill me.’

I rocked backwards. Never had someone begged me to kill them before. Usually the Witch Hunters would plead to be spared, or saved. Forgiven even. This feeling was unpleasant.But as I looked at the person, or what little could be seen of them beneath the ruin, I felt a sense of dread.

‘I can’t,’ I spluttered, putting distance between us. ‘I’m sorry.’

They continued to reach out for me, long after I left them. Their cries followed me, sinking talons into my mind and refusing to ever let go.

This was wrong. This wasallwrong. Anger reared its head at the unfair treatment. It was no wonder my mother longed to keep me away.

This was what my blood caused.

This—all the bodies, all the death—was undeniably my fault.

And as I saw the Great Hall, walls splattered with blood, the floor strewn with bodies and plates of food from the tipped-over table, I almost combusted with the emotion. One look to the chalkboard, and I could see so many spaces where names had been removed. So many dead. I knew how terrible these trials were, but seeing it first-hand was something entirely different.

Focused on finding Romy, I didn’t leave until I checked every corpse for her face. By the time I reached the last one, I doubled over and retched. Bile crept up my throat, bringing with it the stale taste of wine.

Someone or something had to deal with all these dead bodies. I almost sat amongst them, knowing if I waited long enough I could face whoever came and take the turmoil out on them.

‘Hector!’ My name split the deathly silence.

My head snapped towards the doorway, following the sound of the voice, even as I was already hiding. Moving objects or people with my power was simple, but moving myself required a more intense focus. But unless I wanted to hide beneath the piles of dead bodies, or face the vengeful witch, there was only one place I could go.

Up.

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