Page 73 of Filthy Little Witch
I took a deep breath as repulsive images flooded my mind, ones where she chained me down and stripped the skin from my bones, or practiced pulling my insides out until I screamed. Then she’d heal me only to do it all over again. And again. And again. On and on for eternity.
“If you let Marta and Atlas go, if you stop attacking them, if you let them leave, I’ll do it.” It was the sacrifice I had to make for them. It was the only way to make sure the demon left them alone. I’d do far worse for that.
“So noble,” she said. “So heroic. Who knew you had it in you?”
I didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like she wanted one from me anyway.
“And why should I take you instead of the witch or your brother? Hmm?” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Either would be a better pick. The witch is strong, and your brother…” She shook her head. “Well, we’ve been having so much fun with his father where I’m from. Adding him to my collection would be quite extraordinary.”
I winced at the thought of my father…Atlas’s father…in hell or wherever she was talking about. Was he being tortured for all of eternity? Was I bound to end up like him, no matter what?
“I’ve already got a demon inside me, right?” I said. “The monster. The one who carved up my chest like a Christmas ham the night we got stuck in the liminal. It’s in me, isn’t it? We woke it up when we did the flesh-binding ritual.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t happy or jovial. It was creepy, like a villain in a horror movie, like other monsters I’d killed when they thought they had the upper hand.
“Yes, it’s in you,” she said, and it seemed like there was more to the story, more she wouldn’t tell me. “No tricks? You don’t happen to have an anti-possession charm on you or some protective enchantment that will cast me out as soon as I take root?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I did,” I said.
“Good.” She held out her hand. “I accept your deal.”
I swallowed and stared at the outstretched palm, wondering again if I was making the right call. If I didn’t do this, we would die in that church. The demon wouldn’t leave us alone until it had us, and after last night, I feared another binding ritual would make this monster indestructible.
This is the only way. This is it.
I took her hand and gave it a firm shake before brushing some of the salt away from the circle so she could step inside.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” she said. “Wesson Colt, I am disappointed in you.”
My heart sank before I could regain my courage.
“Didn’t your father ever teach you to figure out who you’re dealing with before you agree to terms?” She flashed that evil grin again and shook her head.
“I know who you are,” I said. “You’re an Asmodeian. You’re the one who terrorized Asheville and made all those people consume each other.”
At that, she laughed and yanked me closer so she could fist a handful of hair behind my head. “No, my darling. I am Asmodeus. And together, we’re going to raise hell.”
CHAPTER 24
Marta
I didn’t find him in the kitchen or the rectory. He wasn’t in the basement or community rooms. My heart pounded with anxious dread, the connection to him now rattling with a sickening urgency. Something was wrong, very wrong. Echoes from the shadow we’d awakened last night reverberated through me, and I was too cynical to believe it wasn’t nefarious.
No, I had my suspicions about what it was and what it wanted, and when I rounded the corner toward the priest’s rooms, the side door was open wide. This did not make me feel any better.
“Wes?” I held my gun up higher, expecting the demon to jump out of the bushes and attack me.
Instead, the tall, muscular form of my warrior stepped out from behind a giant oak tree, his eyes completely black, his precious lips twisted into an evil sneer, his usually tanned complexion ashen. Despite this, he oozed power and dominance, more than I’d ever seen from him.
“Wes.” I took a step toward him. “What happened? What are you?—”
“Wes isn’t home, sweet girl,” he snarled. The words came out deep and baritone, almost mechanical in their intensity. “He gave me this little meat suit in exchange for your life. Yours and that imbecile inside.”
I choked on a sob, barely able to believe it. Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he come to us? We were so close, we were nearly there. He believed in me. He believed in this. What did he do?
I nearly let myself sink into the recklessness of it, the utter despair of having lost him, but just before those stupid emotions gripped my heart, I yanked myself back to reality.
No.
