Page 82 of Filthy Little Witch
My knees gave out, and I sank to the ground, Atlas collapsing next to me. I grabbed Wes’s bound palms with my free hand and clung to him, pushing whatever energy I had left into his prone form.
His pain became our pain, the sickening decay of evil spreading from him to me and from me to Atlas. Like our pleasure had once, this wretched, overwhelming agony rebounded, circling through our connection until it drove needles into every inch of my skin. We were flayed alive. We were gutted with our insides spilling out. We were pulled to every corner of the universe, our atoms splitting and multiplying and splitting again.
In that moment, I wished for death. I wished the liminal would take us, that it would stop the pain and the misery and let it be over. I wished for anything to make it end.
“Ancestors, please. Help us. Hear us. Please.”
All of the preternatural radiance whirling around us collapsed, coalescing into the center of my chest like a dagger to the heart. I arched into it, howling and screaming for release, my eyes blown open but seeing nothing, my head turned toward God but receiving no grace.
And then the world faded to black.
I stood in a dark space with nothing around me. Atlas was on my left, his hand still clasped in mine, and Wes was on my right, no longer bound and wailing. We looked the same as we had in the liminal, our clothes torn and dirty, our hair in disarray, but there were no other indications that we had survived.
“Where are we?” Atlas asked, glancing around.
“No clue,” Wes said.
“Did it work?” Atlas looked past me to his brother on my other side. “Did we banish the demon?”
No one answered because we weren’t sure. Something had happened. That was certain. But I didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel whole.
I wanted to punch Wes for what he’d done. I wanted to kiss him now that he was back. But there would be time for that—eternities upon eternities. We weren’t in the clear yet. This place wasn’t home, and until we got there, I couldn’t give up the good fight.
Up ahead, about a hundred yards, a small flame flared to life and flickered in the darkness, the only light in the space.
“What do you suppose that is?” Atlas asked.
I narrowed my eyes, and when I couldn’t make out anything else, I took a step toward it.
“Whoa, wait a second,” Wes said, tugging me back. “We don’t know what that is.”
A soft humming echoed on the horizon, something soothing and familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was, I wasn’t afraid of it, and I figured that was a good place to start.
“We should go toward it,” I said as I moved forward again, bringing both of them with me. Atlas groaned, and Wes reluctantly agreed, but they both stepped ahead. We held hands and walked for miles, decades, the songs lulling us in. Joy rang through my chest, some long-forgotten happiness that I hadn’t felt in ages. It reminded me of home.
I picked up my speed at the sensation, and more flames joined the solitary one, becoming a field of dancing fire, beckoning us. The singing grew louder, providing a chorus of voices that yanked at my spirit.
“It’s the veil,” I said. “It has to be.”
We sprinted now, our hands still joined, our steps in time with each other. Marigolds suddenly appeared under our feet, acres of them in bright tangerines and vibrant lemons. Laughter spilled out of my chest as we reached the candles, the faces of my warriors illuminated by the fiery call of our family.
Finally, a chestnut door appeared, seemingly connected to nothing except the jamb. But I knew what we would find on the other side. The voices of the living rang out, willing us to come to them.
“We just need to—” I dropped their hands and reached out to touch the doorknob, but Wes grabbed my wrist to stop me.
“We don’t know what’s on the other side,” he said.
“This is the veil,” Atlas confirmed. “But the veil to what? It could be the living or the dead over there.”
“I sense them,” I said. “My sisters. This is it. They’re calling us home.”
Wes looked from me to Atlas and back again.
“Together, then,” Wes said, putting his hand over mine.
“Together,” Atlas agreed, and placed his palm on top of Wes’s.
Then, as one, we opened the door.
