I shouldn’t have trusted completely in my spell. That was my first misstep. I’d created the spell myself, crafted from my growing understanding of runes and the spoken word. The only person I’d trialled it on was myself, and it had always worked. And I had hoped the same for the Witch Hunter. But as he pushed up further, swaying on trembling, weak arms, I saw that my hopes were misplaced.
“Actually.” I thumbed towards the door. “I was just leaving.”
My voice was lashing as the storm of fury inside of me. I was aware my knuckles were pure white as I clutched the journal as if my life depended on it.
The Witch Hunter pouted, cracked lips sending shivers across my skin. “You’re just going to leave me after the night we’ve had?” He clutched his head, groaning into his hands. “I had a few ideas of things we could get up to again…”
“Keep them to yourself,” I snapped.
He didn’t seem to hear me. “My head is fucking killing me.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, genuinely interested. Whenever I woke from my spelled periods of sleep, I never had a headache. Perhaps I had done something wrong or traced the rune on the Hunter’s forehead incorrectly. “You did drink a lot last night. Maybe lay off the vodka Red Bulls next time, yeah? Might even help with your… erectile dysfunction.”
The Witch Hunter focused on me, his eyes gazing down at the book in my hands, before finally resting on his bag propped against my leg. It was still open, giving the perfect view of everything I’d squirrelled away to steal.
“Are you looking through my things, Hector?”
Hearing my name on his lips sent a jolt of discomfort across my soul, before I remembered I’d given it to him. In fact, I gave it toallof the Hunters when I met them these days. Part of me hoped that they’d recognise it, making my mission oflocating Arwyn a little more exciting. But at the very least, those I’d allowed to leave that rave alive would maybe report it to Arwyn or his father, and they would know that I was coming for them. That Hector Briar, the angel of vengeance and death, was creeping closer and would find them soon.
I didn’t break eye contact with the Hunter as I replied. “Actually, I’m stealing them from you. Consider it payment.”
“For what?” He gasped like a fish, clicking his jaw as if it was going to fall off. “What’s going on?”
“Payment for the shit fuck,” I said, “and the disappointing hosting skills. I’d give you some tips as to what to do for the next unfortunate soul who steps into your home, but then again it would be a waste of my time since there won’t be a next time.”
The Witch Hunter bristled, clumsy hands trying to reach out for me but failing. His movements were sluggish and pathetic as if my spell was still clinging onto his body even after letting go of his mind. “What… what have you done to me?” he mumbled.
Ah, so he figured out something was amiss. Good. Although I’d be lying to say that I wasn’t a little disappointed in this change of events. I would’ve preferred a little bit of a fight with what was to come. Then again, we don’t always get what we want, do we?
“Just a little sleeping spell. Although you’d have to forgive me for any or all side effects you might experience. Thisold magicthing is all new to me.” I took my time and slipped the journal into the backpack, all whilst the Hunter studied me. My intuition told me that he was partly frightened, and also partly dangerous—if only he had full use of his body. The couple of times he tried to get out of bed, his knees gave way until he flopped down again.
“Wit—witch!” he accused, narrowed eyes as metaphorical as a pointed finger.
“Surprise,” I sang with a smile across my lips. “Oh, and I read your journal.” I paced slowly towards the bed, coming to stop when I towered above him. “I see you enjoy keeping tabs on all the innocent people you murder. When you mark your pen across the page, reducing the lives of witches to nothing but a barely neat scribble, does it feed your ego? Stroke it and make you feel mighty and powerful?”
His tired brown eyes widened a fraction, his pale lips fumbling for something to say.
“A lesson for you, Hunter. This is power… I am power.” A darkness rippled through my insides, sparking a pleasure in my groin. On my knees, I clambered onto the bed until my body forced his to flatten beneath me. I enjoyed his attempts to hit me, but his fists felt like soft kisses against the hard of my stomach and chest.
“Get off me. Demon—monster.”
“Ah, ah, ah. It was only hours ago you begged me to ride you, and now you want me to get off? Fickle and pathetic. No, you will look in my eyes until you understand exactly the type ofdemonyou’re looking at.”
“Who… are you?”
“I’ve already told you that,” I replied, cocking my head to the side, almost surprised when his eyes glistened with defeated tears. “Aw, don’t cry, darling. I promise it won’t hurt too much.”
His lip curled into a snarl, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a whimper. “Fuck—you.”
“You already tried that, and it was nothing monumental.” I closed my eyes for a moment, opening myself up to my magic. The darkness stirred inside of me, once unnamed but now something I was far too familiar with. When I opened my eyes again, I knew they were glowing with a band of silver. Air-witch, and a powerful one at that. The light of my innate magic glowed across his skin, and in the reflection of his wide fear-filled eyes. Iwanted this man to look into my soul as he died so he knew that the demons he hunted had finally caught up to him.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and depending on the answer you give, I might let you live until morning. Am I clear?”
He didn’t reply, so I took his silence as an agreement.
Muscles flexed in his jaw, teeth grinding together, feigning confidence when in actuality, his body was trembling beneath me like a leaf caught in a maelstrom.
“Where are Tomin and Arwyn Hopkin hiding?”
