Page 56 of Soul of a Witch

Groaning, I tried to force my mind and stomach to settle. But my thoughts kept flying away from me, swirling like leaves in a storm.

Art Fest was a staple of Abelaum life, held every year to feature both student artists from the university and local artisans. There were booths selling everything from jewelry, to paintings, to hand-made soaps. It was always crowded, with people filling the streets until late into the evening.

Forcing myself to stand up straight, I managed to open the door. Jeremiah stood there, and his lip curled at the sight of me. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick? I better not fucking catch it if you are. I’ve got soccer practice all week.”

“Not sick,” I said. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”

At this point, disappearing into a crowd might be my only hope of escape. At the least, it was my first opportunity to get out of the house in days, and I couldn’t let that slip away.

Art Fest was one of the few ways I was allowed to make money outside of the allowance given to me by my father. I sold my canvases, or the hand-painted tarot cards I spent months perfecting. Every penny I made was saved toward my future freedom.

Although I was in no way prepared to sell anything today, I collected the merchandise I still had from last year as well as my folding table and loaded it into Jeremiah’s car as quickly as I could. My jacket covered the cuffs on my arms, but couldn’t hide how pale my face was or the dark circles under my eyes. I was still reeling, dizzy from the God’s attack, but I had to stay alert.

If the opportunity presented itself, I needed to be ready to run.

I didn’t like the look Jeremiah had on his face when he got into the driver’s seat, cranking up the music loud enough to hurt my ears and vibrate the leather beneath me as he sped down the road toward downtown.

As he was forced to slow his speed the closer we got to Main Street, he turned to me and said, “So, are you ready for it this time?”

I didn’t bother to look at him as I answered, “What are you talking about?”

The tires screeched as he whipped into a narrow parking spot, startling the woman parked beside us as she tried to get her crying baby into a stroller. My plan was to exit the vehicle the moment I had the chance, but before I could reach for the door handle, Jeremiah grabbed my face.

“Jeremiah, what the fuck? You’re hurting me —” I tried to pull back, but I was crushed between him and the door as he leaned out of his seat to crowd my space. His windows were so tinted, no one walking by could see what was happening within.

“I don’t know what you’re fucking planning,” he snarled. “But you’re not going to mess this up for me. The second sacrifice is ready to go, Ev. Dad and I have a plan, and tonight, we’re going to make it happen. Raelynn Lawson is going todie.” His eyes were wide with excited glee, and his voice was cruelly mocking as he continued, “Don’t be a little crybaby this time. I know you have something to do with the grimoire going missing. I don’t believe your bullshit story about teleporting and being passed out for days.” His fingers dug in, squeezing my face so hard my eyes filled with furious tears. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work. When Victoria brings the little lamb over to meet you, you’d better suck it up and play along. Do. Your. Duty.”

He roughly pushed me away, knocking my head against the window. He shoved open his door but remained close by, watching me like a hawk as I got my table and merchandise out of the trunk.

That was why they had allowed me to come. So I could serve as the Deep One’s eyes and ears when the sacrifice-to-be was paraded in front of me like a calf at auction.

If I ran now, right now, how far would I get before I was caught? Would I manage to get back home, dig up my map and escape? Would I be able to reach House Laverne before nightfall? Would I —

Sudden, sharp, stunning pain pierced into the back of my neck. For a moment, I thought I was going to pass out as visions assaulted my mind, blinding me completely.

Blood and viscera, endless cries of pain, rattled in my head until I wanted to bash it against the concrete if only to make it stop.

It stopped as suddenly as it began, and I stumbled, catching myself against the side of the car.

“Hey, watch it!” Jeremiah snapped. “You’re gonna scratch the paint!”

What was wrong with me? A strange sensation lingered, even after the pain had passed: an itch on the inside of my skull. As if something wasinmy head.

Something had changed the night my father took me to St. Thaddeus, and I dreaded to think what that meant.

After finding my booth and setting up my things, my hopes of managing an escape were swiftly dampened. Even when Jeremiah stepped away, Leon stalked through the crowd past my table, giving me a warning glare. He looked human today, with pale green eyes and declawed hands.

“Callum, please,” I whispered, hands wringing on my lap. “Please hear me. Please come.”

Every shout made me jump, every customer that stopped and wanted to chat made me feel like screaming. Then, to my horror, I spotted Victoria approaching with her “friends.”

One of them was named Inaya. I’d had a few art classes with her and she was likely the only person who wasactuallyfriends with Victoria. Or at least, friends with the version of Victoria she got to see. Inaya was always kind to me, always sweet. But she wasn’t who I was worried about.

My stomach crumpled like discarded paper when I realized the second sacrifice was standing right in front of me.

Raelynn was a small woman, with large black-rimmed glasses and oversized clothes. Between her big boots, horror-themed t-shirt, and “Official Mothman Fanclub” pins covering her bag, she seemed like the kind of person I would want to be friends with.

But when I looked at her, my mind wasn’t filled with visions of friendship.

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