Page 43 of Soul of a Witch

My heart hammered. Even already knowing the truth, to hear him say it was stunning. “Me? I’m…I’msupposed to be the vessel?”

“One of your siblings will give up their life to fulfill our oath to God. One will remain to lead the Libiri when I am gone. And one will carry the God Itself. You, your brother, and your sister all have a greater purpose in the Deep One’s plan.”

He rose from his chair, coming around the desk to grasp my hands.

“I think it’s time you witnessed God’s greatness for yourself. When your mother had her doubts, I suggested the same thing. What she was shown through God’s great power completely changed her outlook. It soothed her fears.”

What the hell was he talking about? What did it mean to “witness” God’s greatness?

“After the dedication of Marcus, you and I will go to St. Thaddeus. You’ll see.” He cupped his hand under my chin and lifted my face. I’d looked into eyes far darker than his and seen more light than I ever saw in him. “You will witness the grace of God.”

17

Everly

To offer our sacrifice, the Libiri gathered deep in the woods.

Condensation collected on the pine needles above, the little droplets growing heavier until they dripped down, creating an unsteady rhythm of rainfall. The guttering bonfire we huddled around only did so much to drive away the chill.

Two dozen worshippers in white cloaks and stag skull masks shivered together under black umbrellas. Our family didn’t wear the masks, which were meant to symbolize both our innocence and our honor.

We were to be as innocent as fawns, as faithful as a doe, and carry ourselves with the pride of a stag.

It was late in the night. My mind was wrapped in a fog I couldn’t shake, but I was thankful for it when Marcus’s body was brought to us, carried by my father’s demon. His body had already begun to decompose, a distinct scent of formaldehyde and rot wafting around him.

He’d been dug out of his grave, still dressed in a stiff black funeral suit.

Muttered prayers and thankful murmurs surrounded me. They rattled my head like buzzing mosquitoes.

I had to stay strong. I had to play my part and wait for my opportunity.

Callum promised he would be watching. If I needed him, I could call his name and he would come. That thought was my only comfort as Jeremiah and Leon took Marcus to the mine shaft, where they would throw his body down to the Deep One.

As the other congregants dispersed to return to their homes, my father led me down another path. Not toward the road, where our vehicles were parked. But deeper into the forest, toward St. Thaddeus.

The church loomed ahead of us. St. Thaddeus was a dilapidated beauty, caving in on itself while clinging to elegance. The massive stained-glass window above the doors was covered in grime, but within it, I could faintly see the image of a maiden holding a knife, standing in the sea.

The thud of our shoes on the old boards were as heavy as my heart. The caved in roof allowed the rain to seep in from above, pooling between the broken pews. Ahead of us, the pulpit was surrounded by mounds of wax. The remnants of candles burned down through the decades.

I could hardly breathe as I stood before the pulpit. I wanted to flee into the night’s darkness, even if it meant facing monsters. But I had to endure. I had to stay.

I needed the grimoire.

I swallowed hard, swaying on my feet as my father took a seat on one of the foremost pews. The old church creaked and groaned around us as rain dripped in. My eyes were drawn to a dark corner of the ceiling, where the shadows were so thick it was like a black cloud.

There was a face within the darkness. Callum.

My breath caught, but I had no time to rejoice. My father was speaking.

“When your mother and I first met, she already knew of the Deep One’s existence,” he said. It was the first time I’d ever heard him give even a passing reference to his early days with my mother. He and Meredith had already been married. “But she was resistant to Its power, she didn’t trust that our God would fulfill Its promises to us. But witches like your mother, and like you, are blessed. You have the ability to commune with God when the rest of us do not. It can see through you. Even speak through you.”

My horror must have shown on my face, because he clicked his tongue in sympathy. “Do not be afraid. You’ve been prepared for this all your life.” He reached out his hand, and without any other choice, I went to him.

That creeping feeling wouldn’t go away. Like fingers brushing up my back, tangling in my hair, squeezing my skull.

Let me in, let me in, let me —

Father took my hand.

---