My father’s boots scuffed over the rug in the shape of a red car, except the colour had faded since he’d bought it for me. That was the thing about my bedroom; it hadn’t changed since I was ten years old. The same childish books sat on the bookcase, the same stuffed teddy bears lined the top of my wardrobe. All that was different was me. I stood like a giant amongst my past—a past my father refused me exit from.
Every night I slept on a mattress on the floor, since I’d broken my childhood bed years ago from the weight of my adult body.
I’d asked him to replace it for me, but he never did.
For years I’d wondered why Father stopped paying me the love of a parent that I deserved as someone the age of ten. It took me until I was sixteen—six whole years of contemplating his disdain for me—to work out that hisloveand interest in me stopped because it was when I was ten that my Gift revealed itself. Ten was when I manifested my mother’s curse.
Ten was when I became a witch.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” I asked, not caring to go against him anymore. After all, he needed me. I didn’t need him. “I’m not confident that I can be of service.”
My father stopped suddenly, finally lifting his eyes and fixing them to mine. “The question is, why are you not sure it’s the right thing to do?”
“Because Bahmet is still unresponsive.” I kept my voice neutral as I lied. “No matter how hard I try to connect with the demon, he refuses me. We’re in no position to go against the witches until I am in control of this new power and I?—”
“You’ve had two long months to master the demon, and yet you fail over and over.” He was inches before me in a blink, cheeks red and eyes wild. For a pious man who always carried a pocket Bible in his breast pocket, my father loved violence. I say loved because whenever he lifted a fist, or hurt someone, it was as if he truly came alive. Until then he was merely a robot existing as he thought a person should act. His passion was in agony; his joy came from tearing that very thing from others—including me.
“It worked once before, and it will work again. I just need more time.”
“The first time was clearly a fluke, Arwyn. Let us not pretend that what you achieved with the first group of Hunters was anything but an accident. Do you take enjoyment in failing me? One begins to think you’re doing it purposefully.”
I stepped up to him, lip curling. “I won the Witch Trials. I hardly see that as a failure.”
“Until you do what I ask of you, you will always be a failure in my eyes. Control Bahmet, and then I may just change the way I view you.”
My skin crawled at the mention of what I’d achieved using Bahmet. I had vowed to never do it again. That was when I started taking thistlebane.
“I’m trying,” I lied, hardly bothering to fix my expression into one that was sincere. “Every day I try, but it doesn’t work. Perhaps we displeased the demon because of what you desire. Giving humans access to the Gift was?—”
“You’re not trying hard enough.” Father’s spittle slammed into my face as he forced the words out.
I took a small bit of pleasure every time we were standing this close, because he had to look up at me due to our height differences. “Do you not trust me, Father?”
Tomin paused, eyes narrowing up at me. “Tomorrow is going ahead whether you are ready or not. Our numbers are great enough that we will cause the disturbance required. And once we are successful, those numbers will swell with new recruits. The world is watching us, Arwyn. All eyes will finally be opened to the truth, and it will be the first stone that falls before the avalanche of ruin follows.Theymay have the power today, but tomorrow that power will be seen for what it is. Trusting you will not affect the outcome of what is going ahead.”
My fists clenched tight at my sides. Father noticed, looking down in amusement which quickly faded when he saw the bloodacross my unmarked skin. Snatching my hand up, his touch stole the breath in my throat. I almost choked.
He hadn’t touched me in a long time—averylong time.
“What have you done to yourself?” Tomin asked, voice as deep and dark as an ancient lake.
There was no point in lying. “I punched a mirror. Nothing an order from Ikea can’t fix.”
Tomin practically threw my hand down as if he finally realised what he was doing and was repulsed. “You hold a potential of power at the tips of your fingers. If you want to fix what is broken, then use it.”
With that, Father turned on his heel and moved directly for the door. I got a good look at the guards positioned outside, two middle-aged Hunters whose hands rested on the butts of large guns. As my father left, the first door to close was the steel gate and lock. My actual bedroom door would be the last thing to close, considering it was only there as an illusion that this place was actually a bedroom and not a prison I’d been kept in for years.
“Father,” I called out as the gates closed, and one of the guards slipped a large key into it, locking me away. “Perhaps if you tell me of your plans tomorrow, it will make using Bahmet easier? If I know what I’m required for, then knowing what I need from the demon will be less of a war, and more of a collaboration. Otherwise, you can continue to keep me in the dark and I won’t know what I’m grasping for.”
Tomin paused at that, unknowing that he’d just stepped into a web of my own making. My father, ever the fool, thought my inability to call upon Bahmet was because I was not worthy, or weak, or far too pathetic to harness such a power. When the truth was, I was burying the demon with the same poison Hector’s mother had used on herself. He thought that keeping me locked in this room was actually keeping meintheroom. There was so much he didn’t know about me and my capabilities, and my control of Bahmet was barely scraping the surface.
“If you had proved yourself to me as useful by now, then maybe you would be a part of my council and know of our plans.”
I scoffed at the excuse. “And that still leaves me in the dark.”
Father took me in at a distance, looking through the bars of my prison door as he saw his adult son in a room for a child, out of place like a thorn wedged into soft skin. I prepared myself to be told nothing of merit, but when he opened his mouth the words that followed surprised me.
“Tomorrow is a summit of England’s leaders. The prime minister and his cabinet will be travelling to Buckingham Palace to meet with the royal family. But unfortunately, they will not make it to the golden gates. As the world watches on, I will finally shed light on the monstrous truth of witchcraft. Many innocent people will die, even more witches if we are successful, but their deaths will save many more innocent lives in the future. Don’t worry, my son, I will make sure a TV is brought into your room so you can watch. Perhaps seeing the success of your first act using Bahmet will inspire even more success from you.”
