Page 80 of The Witch and His Crow

Arwyn, without taking his hand off my arm, raised the other and cast a ball of blue flame down the darkened tunnel. The bolt of light shot into the dark, splitting it apart, revealing red eyes, sharp teeth and lithe bodies of feather and fur. Bodies of differing shapes and sizes. From wolven-looking beasts with long limbs and snouts full of teeth, to little beings like imps fromfairy tales, except not the kind that granted wishes, but hungered for flesh.

Fuck.

Panic overcame me. Urgency and fear, two clashing emotions. Arwyn pulled me back harder, dragging me towards the stairwell. He gave into flight mode, whereas I wasn’t prepared to leave without a fight.

As the first step crashed into the back of my heels, I threw out my Gift, casting it directly at the rune marked wall. The force knocked debris from the stone, but did little to break it. Again and again, I sent fist after fist of invisible power against the stone. The more I did so, the tighter the viper coiled, frustration boiling.

The need to break something. Shatter, ruin, destroy. It was as demonic as the creatures giving chase to us.

The dark was closer, the demons swarming around us. Awarding us time, I sent a wave down either side of the tunnel, banishing back the creatures of darkness and claws. Arwyn was shouting my name, dragging me up the steps. Time was slipping. Our window for escape closing in, all because I was driven by the need to act.

Act.

I couldn’t when my parents were murdered. I vowed that night never to waste an opportunity. It was both a strength and a weakness.

A feral scream crawled out of my throat as I tried one final time to shatter the rune with my Gift. The force was great as both my Gift and the viper joined as one. It was hard to tell if the shadows around us reacted to the force, but it was as if a bolt speared out of me, directly against the rune-marked slab.

The song of rushing water filled my ears. Time slipped away from me for a moment, as a wave of exhaustion followed. The viper sunk back into its basket, curling up and sleeping. Andbeneath it all, I was confident I heard a crack. A splitting of stone, a fissure of ruin casting through rock.

‘Hector.’ A voice called out above the terror. ‘Hector, move.Please. Move.’

Darkness swallowed the tunnel, just as small fingers and pointed teeth reached out for me. Arwyn pulled me into his lap, throwing out a boiling wall of azure flame. He was like danger incarnate, spilling his wrath down upon his enemy. It hissed and spat, but from ice instead of heat.

Like the snapping of an elastic band, my mind became mine again. The exhaustion was still there, but the need to survive was greater than any weakness that could devour me.

As was the need to protect Arwyn.

I scrambled up, hands fumbling for purchase on the slick walls. Arwyn’s icy flame crackled and spat, but no more spilled from his hand. It was as if the creatures realised it could not hurt them. They regrouped, thickened the dark into an impenetrable solid mass and began crawling up the stairs as one.

We began running up the stairs. Arwyn allowed me to pass, putting himself at my back, shielding me with his body.

I should’ve refused, but the need to survive was great as it was selfish.

If I’d thought the stairs were endless coming down, they were fuckingeternalclimbing up. My legs burned as painfully as my lungs. Breathing was wasted down here, where fresh air was refused entry. I had no doubt my lungs would be ruined by the time we reached the mausoleum—ifwe reached it.

When I finally saw a slip of light, I almost sobbed from relief. But it wasn’t over yet.

‘Romy!’ I screamed, but the sound was strangled and breathless. It would be a miracle if she heard. I was distracted by the promise of freedom that I missed a step and fell. My kneescracked into the edge of a step, splitting skin. Arwyn crashed into me, huffing out a breath which strangled into a cry.

‘Hector—’

I turned, just in time to see hands, claws, and teeth grasp at Arwyn’s ankles. The shadows overwhelmed his lower legs and stopped. It was as if the dark released a sigh of relief, celebrating a catch. Time slowed as we locked eyes.

This was my fault. I did this. My lack of focus caused him to fall and, in turn, get caught by the demons.

Arwyn managed a final word before he was tugged back. ‘Go.’

‘No.’ The answer was the easiest to give, and final.

There was no hesitation as I reached out for him. I wrapped my fingers around his hand, then my Gift around his arm. A pop sounded as it was pulled out of the socket. Arwyn pinched his eyes closed, grimacing against the pain, refusing to scream out of the need to protect his dignity.

I focused on resisting the demon’s pull. They were physically stronger, but my will was far more impressive. When Arwyn realised his end was not certain, he opened his eyes wide. They overspilled with disbelief, worry, and most of all… regret. It wore his brows together, knitting them until three deep lines worked into his flesh.

‘Don’t,’ he breathed. ‘I don’t deserve it.’

The shadows were clawing up his back, feral creatures snatching and tearing at his skin and clothing, trying to get better leverage. I smelled blood, saw cuts both shallow and deep, his torn shirt and skin beneath just before the darkness covered it. Even Arwyn’s skin was turning pale from unseen blood loss.

‘Shut up,’ I growled, lip curling over teeth, ‘and fucking fight them.’

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