Page 31 of A Witch Out of Time
Vasilisa
Icould practically feel the wind howling through phantom holes in my shoes as I approached the old izba. Dread pooled in my stomach when I glimpsed the oil lamp flickering through the front window’s wavy glass, knowing what it meant. Someone was still up, waiting for me to return home. Waiting to torture me.
They’re dead.
I killed them myself.
Opening the warped wooden door with a creek, I gritted my teeth at the sight of my two stepsisters sitting by the lamp, serenely focused on their needlework. Neither lifted their gaze to acknowledge my arrival, but I saw their lips twitch in gleeful anticipation of what was to come.
“Vasilisa.” Even though I’d been a grown woman for hundreds of years, the sound of my stepmother’s voice sent ice through my veins. It was all I could do not to cower in front of her like the terrified young girl I used to be.
“Why are you disturbing us by returning tomyhouse at this late hour?” she mused, already walking toward the kitchen drawer where she kept the belt for this very occasion. “I wonder why you’d return at all. Why not simply stay out all night and freeze to death? Do us all a favor.”
Regaining my strength, I stood my ground with fists clenched at my side, determined to not show her any fear. My oldest stepsister, Erika, suddenly piped in. “Maybe she lost track of time since she's so busy spreading her legs for every stable boy in town!”
Rage shot through me as her younger sister tittered in reply. Both knew full well I had never been with a man while living in this house. They made sure of it by spreading false rumors I was diseased or cursed—anything to maintain their status as the only eligible maidens in the house. Despite their efforts, men showed up at the door asking for my hand at least a few times a week, which of course only further enraged my stepmother.
“Come here, Vasilisa,” my stepmother’s voice had an edge to it that demanded obedience. “It’s time for you to receive what you deserve.”
She impassively pointed to the wooden table imprinted with my fingernail marks from the countless beatings I’d taken bent over it. As if being led by an outside force, I approached, each step drawing me closer to my childhood monster.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. My stepmother smoothly hid the belt behind her back, nodding for Erika to answer. Quickly fussing with her thin blonde hair, my stepsister swung the door wide, gasping at the sight of the incredibly handsome man waiting on the other side.
Asa.
I’d asked my men to wait outside—adamantly insisting I face my past alone—but as my Beautiful Sun crossed the threshold, I could feel my body thrumming with relief.
“Welcome to our home, sir. Please, come in,” my stepsister preened as she went through the motions of playing the polite hostess while hiding the fact of her evilness behind a well-practiced mask.
Asa ignored her, his pale blue eyes fixed on me alone, as if waiting for something. Seeing that a gentleman caller was once again paying more attention to me than her, Erika boldly placed a hand on Asa’s broad chest. My possessiveness immediately flared up in response.
Mine.
As if that were the cue he was waiting for, Asa’s perfect lips curled in a wicked smile. Looking down at my stepsister, he removed her hand from his chest with a disgusted expression. “You will never touch me or her again,” he growled low.
He then placed his large palm over her face before flames burst from his skin, igniting her like a human torch. The screams of both sisters echoed in the enclosed space, but Asa’s work was quick. My stepmother stumbled forward in shock, but Erika was already little more than a smoldering pile of sticky clothing stuck to charred bones.
In an instant, I was in Asa’s arms, breathing in his dark sweetness to cleanse my palate of the unpleasant scent of melted flesh. My Rider had come for me, knowing I would need him. Knowing I couldn’t face this alone.
No. That I didn’tneedto face this alone.
Whimpering, my younger stepsister tried to edge her way past us to reach the door, but I grabbed her by the arm. My claws extended until they were buried deep in her pale skin and she cried out in pain. Tightening my grip as she tried to wiggle free, I grinned wildly at the sight of thick blood pouring from her wounds.
I wasn’t interested in wasting words on such an unworthy creature. Reaching through our bond, I pulled on Asa’s power, sending fire out through my fingertips and laughing as she was engulfed in flames. Unceremoniously releasing my stepsister’s smoking corpse, I leaned my head against Asa’s chest, enjoying his closeness and the closure I was experiencing.
I’d always felt guilty for bringing home the Yaga’s skull and incinerating my stepfamily, and thought Koschei’s torment was what I deserved for my crimes. Now, I was able to find peace in my abusers’ deaths in a way I couldn’t the first time.
“You...you worthless slut!” my stepmother’s voice trembled with rage as she pointed a bony finger at me. “No wonder your mother’s soul chose to leave this earth. With a daughter like you, she suffered embarrassment every day of her life. You should have died along with her!”
My stepmother paled as both Asa and I focused on her, realizing she was now the prey. With one last curse muttered under her breath, she ran into the back bedroom, slamming the old door behind her. I stalked after her, but paused at the doorway. This bedroom was my parents’ domain, and then my stepmother’s, and it was traditionally considered disrespectful for any children to enter uninvited.
This is my house more than hers.
With an angry growl, I reared back and kicked open the door. When my eyes adjusted to the low light, all I saw was a figure tucked into the master bed, blankets unmoving as if they were barely breathing.
Circling the bed, I stopped short with a sharp inhale. It wasn’t my stepmother cowering beneath the quilts, but my mother, looking exactly the same as the day she died. Thin and ashen and covered with a sheen of sweat—her usually joyful expression pained as she barely clung to life.
I cannot survive this again.
