Page 1 of Heart of a Witch
Prologue
Elijah
I wrinkled my nose at the stench of smoking flesh tainting the brisk autumn air. Leaves whipped at my sides as I ran behind my father through the cornfield. The moon, full and red, hung low in the sky, casting everything in a condemning red.
We fell out into a barren field. Shadows reached toward us, rippling out from flickering orange. As I climbed my gaze to the scene, my stomach lurched. A woman cried into a cloth tied around her mouth. Her hands were bound to a stake standing among a pile of chopped wood. Smoke pillared upward in an illusory dance. My hand shot to my mouth when I saw the fire at her feet, licking her ankles.
Her dark hair fell like ink around her shoulders, matching the deep brown of her eyes. She wrestled against the ropes binding her to the stake. Bile bit up my throat when her pleas turned to screams.
I glanced up, waiting for my father to do something, but he didn’t move. Instead, he watched with a sparkle in his blue eyes. No one there was going to do anything, and the woman was dying.
I ran at the small crowd of five priests surrounding the woman, but a hand gripped my shoulder, stumbling me backward. Steadying myself, I turned. “She’s burning to death.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t let its human cries fool you. It’s a demon masquerading as a human, and you running to its aid is exactly what it wants. Those screams, son, are the sweet sounds of victory.”
I ran cold. The witch’s bloodshot eyes found mine through the orange hue. The smoke continued upward, the flames growing when she turned her attention on me. “Please! Boy.” I could just make out her muffled begging through the cloth. “I’m innocent.”
My breath hitched. “But what if she’s not a demon, and we’re mistaken—”
His nails dug into my wrist.
I flicked my eyes up to look at him.
A trail of saliva glinted against his lip. “That’s what it wants you to think.” I trailed my gaze along the large scar covering his right eye and the pentagram burned into his forehead. They were battle scars from his war against witches. He’d earned them when he’d run into particularly nasty witches who hadn’t gone down without a fight. I’d caught only glimpses of the ones on his body a few times, but they were just as grizzly. “You must see it for what it truly is. You too, one day, will be a protector of mankind.”
I averted my eyes from the burning woman. A murder of crows took flight from the branches in the forest beyond the field when she howled into the night. “Watch her.” His fingers grappled at my cheeks, forcing me to look at the fire enveloping her body. Her screams withered as the flames grew and wood turned to ash. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Mostly in fear I’d vomit.
“You’re fifteen now. It’s about time you saw an execution in person. So you can see what we’re up against.”
I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes. I wiped them before he could notice. “What did she do?” I asked, recalling the laws in our kingdom. When a witch was discovered in Salvius, they were sent to the witch territory, Istinia, to live among their own kind. If they committed one of the high crimes, however, then they’d go to trial, and most ended at the gallows.
“What does it matter what it did? They’re evil, and burning them makes sure they can’t come back. That or ripping out their heart, but this was far more satisfying.”
I swallowed hard. He wanted me to agree, to share in his hatred. I could see it in the crinkles by his eyes and in his waiting stare. I couldn’t bear to hear him call me weak again, not like he called my younger brother every day. “I understand. You’re only protecting us.”
He paused, then slapped my back. “Good. I was your age when I killed my first.”
I ran cold. “I still have my studies and—”
“Times have changed. I wouldn’t expect you to start now. My own father pushed too hard for me to join the family business too soon. He didn’t understand my calling to join the priests or become a hunter, and I will not do the same to you. You will join in your own time when you’re ready. Until then, you will focus on your studies.”
I feigned a small smile, although I was certain the color had drained from my face.
He continued, looking up at the sky with wonder in his star-flecked eyes. “It is our legacy to protect the world from the plague of these creatures. Zerheus and his angels have blessed us with great wealth so we can carry out the purpose.”
Goose bumps crept over my skin. I was certain the god, Zerheus, and goddess, Celeste, did not spend their time worrying about me or my purpose. If I became a hunter, it would have nothing to do with the divine. It was only our legacy now because Father believed it so.
I didn’t want to tell him, but I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less than becoming a hunter—not if it meant burning people and carving out hearts, witch or not. At least he didn’t want me to become a priest too. Being a witch hunter was an addition to his priesthood, and though it paid well, I was sure he’d do it for free.
The temperature dropped a couple of degrees. I breathed in ash, then coughed to cover a gag when I realized I was tasting the essence of a witch. I angled my head to get a better look at the dark mass unmoving against the embers.
My father joined the other priests, brushing ash from his blue robes as he walked. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of the witches captured here in Redforest had received a proper trial. I’d never heard of one sent to Istinia. All were killed. I supposed it was why most stopped coming to our town, except for the occasional straggler. Dawnridge, the main city in the kingdom, was infested with them, or so I was told.
I turned my back toward the scene and stared out over the cornfield and up at the indigo sky. In the distance, the white walls of our mansion stood out against the rest of the houses. Red and orange hues flickered in one of our windows. Corbin was still awake. I was glad my brother hadn’t been forced to see this too. He’d already seen enough darkness to last himself a lifetime.
***
Dappled light trickled through the gaps in the drapes of my brother’s room. I tightened the knot of my tie and looked at his untouched uniform lying on the bed.
