Page 41 of Soul of a Witch

We paused, tense silence growing between us. I had to choose my words carefully.

“I’m in no rush. Frankly, I’m more concerned with claiming her for myself, before I claim her for Hell.”

Leaina flashed me a quick, exasperated smile. “Claiming her for yourself and claiming her for Hell are one and the same. Surely, you’ll find it in your best interest to have her soul bound to yours. The power that would give you would be…” She paused, and for the first time in this wretched conversation, I heard something truly sincere. “It would be astronomical. Almost unheard of.”

“As I said, no rush.”

I was already sick of standing here and trading tense smiles. Hell’s council was made up of six of the oldest and strongest of demon kind. I’d almost been one of them, invited to join the council once the war was over and I was being called a “hero.”

But while the rest of the council was eager for Hell to forget the horrors of the war against the gods, it was impossible for me. Like so many others who had fought, I couldn’t forget even the things I desperately wanted to.

I remembered it all. The blood, the pain, the torture, the hundreds of lives lost. Demons I’d known, demons I’d loved, lying dead around me as far as the eye could see.

That shit couldn’t be forgotten, and it couldn’t be allowed to happen again.

But Leaina was insistent. “You know the laws, Callum. You know why they’re there, why thesevery fewrules we have are necessary. Lucifer is willing to make an exception for you butonlyif you claim the witch’s soul. We can’t take the risk of a half-demon being born to a mother who isn’t even bound for Hell.Especiallywhen that mother is so powerful.”

“Getting a bit ahead of things, aren’t you?” I said. “I’ve only just fucked her, Leaina. Calm down. Tell Lucifer to worry about his own seed rather than mine.”

“Callum.” The warning in her voice was evident, but I really didn’t care. After all,shewas the professional.

“Boo-fucking-hoo. Lucifer has plenty of other ass-kissers, he can afford to lose one.”

She rubbed a hand over her face, scratching her claws along her jawline. “You need to return to Hell. Immediately.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“You need to come back. You’re not well.”

“Not well? Really? Is the council suddenly concerned for my health after all this time?”

“We’ve been concerned ever since you began thisfixation. Centuries of obsessing over a witch you envisioned for only a few minutes. A witch who hadn’t even yet been born in linear time.” She huffed in exasperation.

This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, but I’d known it wouldn’t before we started. “Tell the council that while I appreciate their concern, it’s unneeded. I’ll take care of what’s mine.”

“I need something more than that, Callum.” Despite her obvious irritation with me, I could hear her concern too. She was a fierce demon, loyal, one I’d known for a long time. But our loyalties lay in different worlds. “Lucifer won’t accept that, and Bael and Paimon won’t interfere if he chooses to come after you.”

“Then he can come and have it out with me himself.”

She looked like I’d slapped her. She roughly tucked her envelope back inside her jacket, her claws ripping the paper as she did. “Madness. Utter fuckingmadness.” She stalked away, brushing roughly against my side as she did. “Mark the witch. Claim her. If you want any hope of keeping her, if she truly means so much to you, then do it. When Lucifer comes, he won’t be as kind as I’ve been.”

16

Everly

After spending my last few days in the coven house, my father’s home felt dead. Like bleached bones, left in the sun until they were cracked, brittle, and dry.

Sitting in the hard wooden chair before his desk, wringing my hands in my lap, I waited for my father to acknowledge me. He sat there flipping through paperwork, signing a sheet here and there, checking notifications on his phone.

I was merely one more unwelcome item on his to-do list.

When he finally sighed, his pen clicking with ominous finality before he set it down, my stomach churned as if I was going to be sick.

Just stick to the story. Simple. Easy. You’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll ask you once again,” he said. “Where did you go?”

My mouth was so dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I tried to speak. “I woke up in the oak tree in the park. Near Mama’s old apartment. I-I don’t know how, Dad. Really, I don’t. Jeremiah scared me and I guess my magic must have —”

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