Holding it tight with his shadows, he glanced over his shoulder at Hazel, and then back to the Striga. “And youwillleave the human girl alone. Not a hair is harmed on her head, or I’ll remove yours.”
Her gnarled face scrunched into something resembling confusion, and she sniffed the air.Human, you say. Hmm… we think there is more to her than meets the eye, Dark One.
“Don’t call me that.” He squeezed a shadow tendril a little tighter around her neck and she gasped for air.
That is enough! We’ll let her go… for now…She turned her gaze upon Hazel, then.Be gone, ill-fated spawn. My master hunts for you, and if you stay, he will find you. He will flay the skin from your very bones. Leave this place and never return!The Striga’s body and the incorporeal voice were at odds with this decision, the former still desperately wanting to make a meal out of her.
Through vision blurred by fading consciousness, Hazel watched as the Striga shifted again, her extra pair of arms wilting and shrinking back into her body, its bones cracking as they reshaped back into her human form while the warrior in black stood guard.
And then the world went dark.
To her horror,the strange male was still there when she came to. He sat with his back against a tree, picking his nails with a dagger. When he noticed she was awake, he stood abruptly, sheathing his dagger as he strode toward her.
As he stalked forward, Hazel fought to stay conscious. She tried to crawl away, but her limbs were weak, as though the magic had drained her.
“Please…” she begged. “Don’t…”
He towered over her, a menacing figure. A visage of death incarnate. He cocked his head, drinking her in. Examining. It was animalistic, the way he looked at her. Perhaps he was another beast from beyond the Border and not a man at all. Perhaps he’d run off the Striga just to secure her prey for himself.
“Who are you?” came his gravelly voice.
Who am I?Not an unreasonable question. Up until moments ago, Hazel could have answered easily. But now?
He drew closer, so close Hazel could see the soulless black orbs where eyes should be. Not the slightest hint of white or color. She sucked in a quick breath.
She couldn’t see his mouth beneath the mask, but when he spoke, the smirk was there in his voice.
“You should be more careful, sweets. Monsters roam these woods,” he growled.
And she was looking at one. She was sure of it. Escaped one beast just to fall prey to another.
“You see, I’m looking for something. Orsomeone,” he said, his gaze looming over her. He crouched down. “It’s not by chance that I’m here. I have an acute sense for… certain things.” He began circling her. “And those senses led me here. To this glade. I want to know why.”
The magic. The magic. The magic.Hazel gulped. Her head was still swimming, and forming words was a foreign concept. Instead, bile rose in her throat. She kept her mouth tightly sealed as she forced the feeling back down.
“Well? If you’re not going to tell me why this glade reeks of magic that most definitely didnotoriginate from that Striga, you could at least thank me for saving your ass.” He leaned in close, and Hazel watched wordlessly as his black eyes shifted to gold beneath the skull’s bony sockets. Predator eyes, glowing in the shadows.
Hazel averted her eyes. He reached out and stroked her jawline before grabbing her chin and tipping her face toward his. Those yellow irises burned into her soul, locking her firmly in place. Her gut screamedrun,but she couldn’t even if she wanted to.
“Whoever it was, whatever it was,” he began, letting go of her face and standing up, “they should know it’s not safe out here. I was hoping to catch up with them and offer aid. I have connections. Resources that could help them, but you’re clearly not who or what I’m looking for, are you?”
Hazel shook her head. No. She most definitely wasnotwho or what he was looking for. Even if she was.
“Right. Well, I’ll be going, then.” He backed away several paces. The air behind him twisted and warped, as though it was melting. A flickering opening appeared, a doorway carved into the air itself, and with a half-hearted salute, the warrior stepped in. In a blink, the warped doorway was gone, and Hazel was alone once more.
RUMORS FLY
Hazel remained seated for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what had happened. But her headache was unbearable and made it impossible to think. She pushed herself to her hands and knees, at which point the pain overtook her and she emptied her stomach into the grass.
She choked out a sob, squinting as her memory came crashing down on her. In a panic, she scrambled to her knees and tried to stand, but it was too much effort. She surveyed her surroundings from her knees.
There was no cottage to be found. Just a small pond in a clearing in the woods. Nothing ominous. And most certainly no Striga. But it had been real, hadn’t it?
She backtracked through the forest as best she could. Like everything else in her fever dream of a memory, there was no path, though she could have sworn there had been one before. Perhaps she’d hit her head when she fell, and it had all been a lucid dream. That made more sense than the alternative.
After hours of fighting thorn and sticker bushes, she made it back to the main road.
Hazel dragged herself down the road, bone-tired and emotionally drained. Her head spun as she attempted to face thereality of what she’d experienced. What she’ddone.She didn’t dare say it out loud. But… was it …magic?No. It couldn’t be. Because if it was, the consequences could be insurmountable. What if someone found out?
