Page 84 of Heart of a Witch
“Oh, I doubt that.” He smiled, but I could see the sadness he was trying to keep from his features.
“There’s been little change with your brother.”
“I know. I went to check on him not long ago.” I raised an eyebrow, concerned he’d been eavesdropping, but his expression gave nothing away.
“Eva’s with him now,” I said. “She’s taking care of him.”
“I’m glad he has her. He doesn’t have many real friends.”
I was pretty sure they were more than friends, and I wished I could agree, but a relationship between her and Corbin meant he knew Alex dabbled in witchcraft, and that could put her in danger. She was too trusting, like me as a child—and Ember. A lump formed in my throat. “Ambrose is going to redress his wounds in the morning and get some more medicine from the shop.”
“Thank you for letting us stay.”
I dressed quickly into my nightgown. “Elijah, about your father.”
“Please, don’t.” He rubbed his knuckles. “What’s done is done.”
I nodded but didn’t push him. “You did right by getting him out of there.”
“I should have done it much sooner. Your sister was right about me.”
I sat next to him. “It’s not as black and white as that.”
“You…” He slowed his breathing, holding my hand in his. “Are too good, Victoria.”
He had no idea how wrong he was. He pulled me next to him and fell asleep at my side. I felt the steady thumping of his heart as I splayed my fingers over his chest and stared at his blond waves. Growing anxiety bloomed inside of me. I squirmed and felt his heart rate pick up, so I settled still.
***
I walked along the uneven, snow-coated ground, crunching flakes beneath my boots. Skeletal leaves reached through the white, covered with icy blankets. I was breathing slowly, fogging the air in front of my face, when I found the dark, three-story home beyond a flurry of white. Its two towers reached high into the sky, and the wraparound porch creaked and groaned as the wind gusted under the rotting wood and against the rickety fence. I could feel them, the undead. The humans weren’t wrong when they called the place haunted. To them, it was a place for ghost stories and to grab a quick scare on a dull evening. For me, it was the perfect host for dark magic. Energies here would allow me to access stronger magic.
Tomorrow I’d show Damian the truth: I was a witch. I’d allow him to see a glimpse of my magic and feel the monster lurking within and would even allow myself to be captured. I’d admit to the hexed bags and everything else I had done, and when he was ready to take me to trial or out me to Elijah, I would feign confusion as to why he was accusing me of such atrocities.
I had to ensure he couldn’t detect my magic once I was ready to make him appear as crazy as I knew he was. I needed to make jewelry again, this time four pieces instead of five. No doubt he’d send priests after Alex and Cas. Even if he didn’t, I couldn’t risk them. With us all protected, he would seem unhinged, accusing just about anyone of witchcraft. With Cas so deeply nested into the church community—and beloved by so many there—they may not believe it at first. Alex has Corbin, who is in love with her. He’d do anything for her; I’ve seen it in the look in his eyes. He seemed better this morning. He’d protect her against his father, even if things didn’t go to plan.
I had to believe that.
As for me, people seemed to like me enough here, but my saving grace was Elijah. I wasn’t sure how deep his feelings went for me. He’d never said, but in the touches, kisses, and late-night talks, there was something there. Was it enough to save me? I hoped.
I stepped inside, clutching my satchel with the three rings and a necklace. I would wear two, so if one was to be forced off or fell, I’d have another.
An herbal smell hung in the air of the dank entrance room. Leaves, shards of glass, and discarded newspapers littered the grand stairwell, a shell of white under a half-broken chandelier.
I could feel eyes on me, breaths of air hitting the back of my neck as I moved farther in. I pulled my hair down from its braid, letting it fall around my shoulders.
My satchel wriggled, squeaking and screaming from within. The rat had woken up. I thought I’d spelled it asleep for longer. No matter. I wasn’t going to turn back now, not when death had become such a close friend.
I dropped to my knees at the foot of the stairwell on an empty space of the floor and made my markings with chalk against the floorboards. I reached inside my satchel slowly, then grabbed the rat before it could bite me. It angled its neck back before I could grab the knife in my other hand, and it bit me.
Pain seared through my hand, throbbing into the tips of my fingers. Instinct begged me to let go of the squirming creature, but something darker held on. He turned again to bite, but I was faster. I slammed it against the ground and plunged my blade through its center. It stopped moving. Blood sprayed my skirt and the floor and dripped between the boards. It was messier than I’d hoped, but he’d caught me unaware. Before continuing, I grabbed some of the aloes for my spell and spread them on the bite.
“At least you fought back,” I said to the dead rat lying in the middle of my symbols.
I pulled black candles from my bag, lit them with matches I’d bought from a little match boy in town, and lined them around the rat in a circle. I placed the jewelry among the blood and began the ritual.
Half an hour had passed when I felt the magic take effect. Gripping hands reached up through the floor, black and smoky wisps of fingers clutching at the soul of the creature I had sacrificed. I moved back several inches. I hadn’t seen this happen the first time, but I’d had my eyes closed.
Once they were gone, demons or ghosts from the underworld, which I wasn’t sure, I breathed a sigh of relief.
