Page 10 of Soul of a Witch

Sam laughed. He sounded high as a kite, whereas Nick had his hood up and his hands shoved into his pockets. I tried to pull my arm out of Jeremiah’s grip, but instead of fighting with me, he put his arm around my shoulders instead. He dropped his voice, leaned close to my ear, and hissed, “Just do your duty, Everly.”

Panic tightened like a vice around my lungs. My trembling hands were so hot, like fire was trying to burn its way out from under my skin.

I willed myself to calm down. I had to maintain control.

If I broke — if the prickling heat swelling in my chest was allowed to keep growing — I truly had no idea how much chaos I could unleash.

We ascended the steps into Calgary Hall. The interior was dark and cold, our footsteps echoing off the stone floors. The doors clicked shut behind us, cutting off the sounds of the crickets chirping and the breeze moving through the trees.

It was silent as a grave.

Jeremiah released my arm and placed his finger over his lips in warning. My world felt as if it were tipping on its axis as Nick handed Jeremiah a knife he pulled from beneath his jacket. Despite the dim light, everything around me was glowing, shimmering with a violet glow of magic.

My control was fragile. Like a balloon about to burst.

Jeremiah turned toward Marcus. My vision tunneled. Time slowed.

The Deep One’s demands had to be met. Three souls had to be given. That was our duty. That was worship. It wasfaith.

But when Jeremiah lifted the knife, I screamed.

Everything happened too fast. Sam grabbed me, restraining me as Jeremiah and Nick grappled Marcus to the floor. Sam tried to cover my mouth, but I bit his hand, squeezing my teeth down until I tasted blood, and he struck the back of my head.

“Fucking Christ, you little psycho!” He kept hitting, and I kept struggling, unclenching my jaw only when the force of his blows made me dizzy.

“Jeremiah, stop!” My voice broke as it echoed off the walls. “Not like this, please, don’t!”

He straddled Marcus as Nick pinned his arms above his head. Jeremiah cut the blade through Marcus’s shirt, moving in a terrifying slow and methodical pattern as his victim yelled, his legs kicking uselessly.

His cries turned ragged with pain as Jeremiah carved the ritual marks into his chest. Jeremiah was giggling like a child with a new toy, his smile widening every time Marcus struggled, every time his cries of pain grew more desperate.

“You know what’s funny, Kynes?” Jeremiah said, bringing his face close to the other man’s and dragging the blade slowly across his cheek. “Your crazy sister was right. She was right about everything.”

Heartbreaking realization made the pain melt from Marcus’s face. He looked over at me, and I choked on a sob, an unanswered question lingering in his eyes.

Why?

Jeremiah raised the knife over his head and plunged it into Marcus’s chest. Marcus made a small sound, the air knocked out of him. I struggled harder, flailing against Sam’s hold until my shoe hit something slick, and I slipped, sending both of us to the ground.

The knife came down again.

Again.

Again.

I was going to break.

Blood seeped across the floor, staining the edge of my dress. Sam’s breath smelled vile as it wafted in my face, his grip on my arms tight enough to bruise.

The heat inside me was rising, faster and faster. I didn’t have control.

Flashes of purple and orange bloomed behind my eyelids as I squeezed my eyes shut tight. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t here. I was somewhere else, somewhere quiet and safe. I couldn’t watch this happen again, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t, Icouldn’t—

The pressure, the unbearable heat, burst open inside me. For a moment, I was nothing: floating, flying, bodiless. As irreverently free as a gust of wind.

My eyes remained closed as a waft of cold air sent a shiver up my back. My cheek was lying against something prickly, and the scent of damp soil filled my nose.

I opened my eyes.

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