“You lied,” I spat at the demon lord. “You warned us not to use our magic.”
Mist burst out of Bahmet’s jaw as he emitted another throaty laugh.
“Hector Briar, I am surprised to be announcing this to you so early, as I expected you to last a little longer. But, as you likely understand, you have failed The Burning. In turn you have failed the Witch Trials, and for that you will be?—”
I didn’t let Bahmet finish.
I spun on my heel, and threw myself into the burning pyres. If using the old magic wasn’t going to set me on fire, then I would cast myself into the demonic flames and force them to take me.
It must’ve been the right choice, because Bahmet’s panicked yell cut the night. The noise was a symphony of refusal, shock and fury. And it fuelled me.
I sunk my nails into the final Hunter’s burning flesh, anchoring myself to him, as we both burned alive.
All that existed was pain. Sheer and agonising hurt overcame me. I knew, beyond the adrenaline and desperation flooding my body, that the feeling wasn’t natural.
The demon lord wanted me to suffer.
The demon lord wanted me to beg to be saved.
As my skin blistered, and my organs shut down, I understood what desperation would drive a person to make a deal with a demon. How Eleanor Letcombe used her dying breath to forever force witches and Bahmet to be joined. I got it now. Because as the fire continued to eat away at me, I was prepared to give everything away… prepared to sell my soul to the devil just to scorn the person who put me in this position.
“Hector Briar, I should not like those whocheat,” came a voice from beyond my dying, suffering body. I pictured him in my mind, Bahmet, framed by his unholy fire as it devoured me, the warm light glinting off the velvet sheen of his black suit. “However, I cannot help butadmireit. This once I will allow it. Until the next time you fail…and you will be mine.”
31
HECTOR
Thick, powerful arms replaced the fire’s embrace.
Warm, hard arms. Iron-clad. They wrapped around me, pulling me close to the press of a body I was ever so familiar with. I refused to open my eyes, convincing myself that the longer I pretended whatever this was was real, I’d be happy.
“Give yourself a moment.” Arwyn’s honey-smooth voice came from beyond my closed eyes. “Don’t rush yourself. Take your time.”
I no longer cared if this was death. My instincts told me to open my eyes, take in my surroundings, and see what had changed since I’d burned alive. I simply couldn’t find it in me to care if my soul had become a meal for Bahmet, not as long as Arwyn was with me.
Every inch of my skin tingled. My hands were numb as I blindly reached around Arwyn’s broad shoulders and held on to him. I inhaled deeply, drinking in his scent, trying not to notice how his clothes stunk of ash and charred flesh.
It had been so real, the burning. And yet, when I finally opened my eyes, I found out it wasn’t.
Arwyn laid both hands on either side of my face, and spoke words that soothed the turmoil inside of me. “You’re alive.”
“No,” I said, unable to shake my head in refusal from his grasp. “I can’t be. I?—”
“Alive,” Arwyn repeated.
Surely the burning hadn’t just been some twisted form of solid illusion that made me think I really was dying? And yet here I was… back in the arms of the man I thought I’d killed for a moment.
“Are we safe?” I asked, needing constant reassurance.
There were so many things I wanted to say, but this felt like the only thing of importance.
“No,” Arwyn replied, his tone contradicting his answer. “Unfortunately not.”
I drew my gaze from his to find us stood in the middle of a field of flowers. A wall of poppies rose up around us, shielding the view from beyond. The crushed flowers acted as a bed beneath us, red juice smeared over my ash-covered knees.
“Surely we’re no longer in the trials.” I breathed in, enjoying the sweet but almost sickly scent that engulfed me. “Because this is far too beautiful to be created by any demon.”
Arwyn refused to take his attention from me. The world didn’t matter to him. I felt small beneath his stare, but not weak. His dark brows creased with worry, his full mouth turned downwards at the edges.
