Page 98 of Eldritch
“You know him?”
His jaw hardened, drawing my attention to his scar. I noted how close the veins had stretched toward his eye—the thin filament curving into the corner of it. “Yes. I’ve not seen him in years. He was a friend.”
“A friend who wants to kill you?”
“I don’t think he’s after me.”
Understanding dawned. “He’s here for me? Why?”
A muscle in his face ticced, the tension in his jaw tighter than before. “There are a number of reasons why Loyce would be interested in you. None of them are good.”
“This is unbelievable!” Aleysia squealed and scooped up a handful of snow that instantly turned to liquid in her palms. “How am I this warm, while hardly clothed in the dead of winter?”
Zevander nodded after her. “She seems to be taking things well.”
“A little too well. It makes me nervous, if I’m being honest. I’m not ignoring the fact that she hasn’t asked about the glyphs, at all. Everything she saw back there …” I shook my head at how strange I must’ve looked, swinging a bone whip through the air, or calling on Raivox. “It’s as if she refuses to acknowledge it. I don’t know what that means yet. If she’s in denial, or none of this seems real for her.” I lifted my hand bearing the strange glove. The markings there reminded me of a tree root growing over the back of my palm, while the sharp, silver fingernails resembled an ominous threat of pain.
“What is this?”
“I cut myself on one of Raivox’s scales. This grew from the cut. Even with this, she didn’t respond as I would have imagined Aleysia responding.”
“How is that?”
I raised one shoulder. “I don’t know. Hysterical, maybe? She asked about my eyes turning silver and never questioned it again. I just worry that perhaps she’s not fully absorbing everything.” I tugged on one of the small veins of the glove, careful not to grip the edge of it, as Aleysia had done. “I’ll say this much, though—I’ve grown weary of these strange things happening to me.”
He seemed to examine the hand as I held it out in front of him. “It won’t come off?”
“No.” I flipped my hand over to see that my palm remained completely exposed. Intentionally so, it seemed. “I tried. I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s not painful?”
“Not at all. In fact, there’s a strange warmth. It feels oddly relaxing, the way the muscles soften after a hot bath.”
“Sounds nice about now.”
Aleysia lagged just long enough to let us catch up, then walked alongside me, running her fingers over my hair. “So, it’strue, Sister. You really are a witch. All this time, the villagers were right.” Snorting a laugh, she ran ahead of us again, jumping up for an overhanging branch, and the snow covering it spilled over her, dissipating to steam when it landed on her skin.
“So, this is unusual behavior for her?” Zevander asked.
“The excitement? Yes. The refusal to acknowledge things that should seem abnormal to her? No.”
“Could be the trauma she’s suffered. Something she’s trying not to look at too deeply.”
“You sound as if you’re familiar with that.”
His gaze tracked toward the tree line again. “I suppose we all have something we’d rather not dwell upon.”
“I suppose we do,” I said, toying with one of the undone laces at the neck of his tunic, before turning toward the tree line, grateful for the distraction from his growing scar. “So, this Theron? Do you think he’s hunting us now?”
Zevander looked skyward, where Raivox continued to glide through the air above. “I doubt he’d chance it with that monstrosity flying around overhead. I certainly wouldn’t.”
“It surprises me that he hasn’t taken off. He never usually stays long.”
“Perhaps he senses a threat.”
“Well, if he does, he’s certainly misjudged, where you’re concerned. Truly, you can put me down. You’re going to be exhausted by the time we reach the village.”
“I’ve carried tankards of mead that were heavier than you. Once you’ve cast off all that pride, of course.”
