I’d asked this question close to twenty times in the past week alone. No matter who I asked, the answer was always the same. I almost didn’t bother this time around, but there was no harm in trying.
Since the Witch Trails ended and named its victor as Arwyn Mor—Hopkin, there had been no word from him. In fact, it had become difficult to find Witch Hunters. It was like they’d all just disappeared. Any murders that once pointed at the death of a witch had become few and far between. Over one night, it was like Witch Hunters no longer existed. Up until a week ago when they began to flood back into society, picking up where they left off.
I wanted to know where they’d gone, and why.Neededto know. But every Hunter I had the displeasure of stalking since had given me little to no information. Why would this one be any different?
I waited patiently for my prey to answer me. After all, I was in no rush. He screwed his lips up, as if physically stopping himself from answering the question. But I was wrong because the entire time he was gathering spit. In a blink, he hurled a mouthful of saliva up at me. It splashed against my chin. I left it to dribble and run down my neck and into the collar of my shirt, showing him how little I cared.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
He snarled. “You’ll burn in hell,witch.”
I leaned down until my lips were so close to his that when his skin prickled I could practically taste his revulsion. “One more chance to answer me,Hunter. Tell me where they are hiding, and I’ll even consider letting you live.”
He turned his head to the side, screwing up his face into a grimace. His lips clenched shut so tight that they practically disappeared into his pale face. If that wasn’t refusal enough, I didn’t know what was.
“Nothing more to say?”
The Hunter stayed silent.
I rocked backwards, pushing off him and getting back to standing over the bed. “You’d actually die willingly when I’ve given you the chance to live? And all you need to do is give me the information I need.” I couldn’t help the harsh laugh that erupted from me. “Do youreallycare so much for people who are using the very demon that you and your kind have spent generations hunting us for?”
Something in what I’d said snapped the Hunter out of his stupor of refusal. He rocked up to sitting, face flashing with rage. I almost didn’t notice that he’d pulled something from beneath his pillow until the blade he retrieved was flashing towards my chest.
Not any blade… a Hunter’s athame.
I flicked my hand towards it in greeting, eyes flashing with undiluted silver. My Gift flooded out of me, catching the handle in the grip of unseen fingers before flinging it away. The force of my telekinesis was so powerful that the athame whipped through the air before embedding into the wall two inches deep—just as many inches as the Hunter was inside of me hours ago.
“Now, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” My heart beat steady, the same rhythm as before he’d tried to kill me. “Is that how youtreat all the poor unfortunate souls that get to share a bed with you?”
My Disney reference was wasted on this tasteless man as he spat hellfire threats at me.
“You can kill me today, and you willstilldie tomorrow. There’s no hiding from your fate anymore,witch. We are coming to get you… you can run and hide in the shadows and our master will drag you back into the light kicking and screaming. Kill me, and it changes nothing. Kill me, and you will follow soon enough.” He looked at me with a mask stretched into a feral grin, lips dripping with spit and eyes so wide it was a miracle they didn’t pop out of his skull. “We will drag every one of youdemonsinto the light and burn you for the world to see. There won’t be a secret left, not when the world finds out about you. And they will… they willallknow soon enough. And you will not be able to stop them.”
The symbol for fire—a triangle pointing north—filled my mind. Before the frantic man could finish his boring speech I reached forwards, old magic burning hot beneath my skin.
I laid a simple finger upon his forehead and released. “Would you shut the fuck up.”
Upon impact, the Hunter erupted in ruby-red flames. It took but a second for his entire body to catch until he was a figure bathed in tongues of fire that raged and burned, fuelled by my very own hate.
“Only one of us will burn tonight,” I shouted over his screams.
Smoke billowed up to the ceiling, thick and black. Before the flames could spread from the bed to the floor, I snatched my goodie bag of stolen goods from the floor and made a move for the door. Charred flesh hit at the back of my throat, the sweet scent of melted hair and boiled blood clinging to my nose with each inhale.
“You really should’ve just answered my first question,” I called back to the burning corpse as I grabbed the door handle and opened it.
As I stepped out into the corridor beyond, the building exploded with the delayed call of a fire alarm. Sprinklers were set off, bathing everything in water to put out the fire. It was pointless, because as soon as I severed the symbol for fire from my mind’s eye, the husk of crispy flesh ceased burning.
The Witch Hunter was right; I was a monster. However, I didn’t wish for the entire block of flats to burn because of one pathetic excuse for a man.
Was I proud of myself for my actions? No, not really. I would’ve preferred to live a life where revenge and hate were not my strongest personality traits. But was the demonic shard of power embedded into my soul proud? From the way it swelled inside of me like a wave wanting to devour me, the answer was yes. It fed off my dark acts, and it encouraged me to continue leaving destruction in my wake. And Iwouldcontinue to feed it until my life’s purpose was complete.
Destroying Arwyn was only the first step. My real enemy was the monster using his skin as a puppet.
Bahmet. The Maker of Deals. The Agent of Chaos. Prince of Darkness. Lord of the Pit.
I fixated on the real demon as I exited the block of flats, followed by a flood of humans who evacuated the building thanks to the alarm and sprinkler system. Before they suspected that I was the cause, I slipped into the shadows outside, clutching the spoils in my arms, wanting nothing more than for this game of pain and torture to end.
It was moments like this when the loss of Caym—my familiar and closest thing to family—overwhelmed me. My grief was buried beneath my need for revenge, so I rarely thought of him. But when I did, it made doing anything else a chore.
