Page 91 of Eldritch
He turned to the girl, whose face had twisted into an expression of terror.
Terror he had incited.
She pushed to her feet and ran toward the guard, falling at his side. “Let me help you!”
Help him?
Arms flailing, the guard didn’t bother to still himself as she reached for his hand, barely missing that flame.
“You mustn’t move! I need to smother it!”
Smothering it would burn her flesh, just as it had the guard’s fingers.
Zevander held his palm out, and the flame jumped from the soldier’s armor back to his hand.
The soldier held his trembling arm to his chest. “Get away from me, witch! Don’t you touch me! Sacton Crain will hear of this!”
“No, please. I’m begging you!”
“You’ll be banished to The Eating Woods!” He stumbled to his feet, teetering to the side, then headed down the path in the opposite direction.
“Please! I didn’t mean to …. I’m …. No, no, no.” She held her face in her palms, and the quiet, whimpering sobs cut across Zevander’s chest like knives.
Growling, he left the girl there and strode after the soldier.
Do not touch him, he reminded himself. But how could he possibly stop him?
He glanced around and spied a rock at the edge of the path—one with sharp edges. Swiping it up, he chucked it at the back of the soldier’s head. The crack against his skull ensured a grievous injury.
The soldier collapsed to the ground, his body seizing for a moment, before his eyes shuttered closed and he went still. To be sure he wasn’t dead, Zevander knelt beside him, listening for breath. A faint wheezing expelled past his lips, and Zevander leaned closer.
“You will remember nothing of this day,” he whispered in the soldier’s ear. “When you wake, your thoughts will be nothing but a black void.”
He turned back toward where the girl tearfully gathered her basket of fruits and strode back to her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She shook her head, the shine of tears glistening down her cheeks. “I’ll be banished to the woods by day’s end. I cannot talk to you.”
“You won’t. He won’t remember anything…if he bothers to wake, at all.”
“Did you kill him, Angel?”
“No. But I wanted to. I could have. Tell me your name.”
“I would imagine an angel would know my name. Unless you’re not an angel, at all. Forgive me.” She gathered up her cloak, fastening it around her neck with trembling hands. As she stepped in the direction of the cottage, she hesitated. “Whatever you are…I promise to keep your secrets. But I cannot speak withyou again. Agatha is waiting for my return. I should be on my way.”
Zevander stared at her, the urge to draw his calloused fingers across her face compelling him closer.
Closer.
He reached out, eager for one touch.
A hand gripped his arm, and Zevander’s muscles lurched as he turned to find Alastor glaring back at him.
“You must never touch them!”
The girl kept on the path, the scenery around them fading to blackness.
