CARIA
Chapter 16
“Fuck you smell,” Reiner growls, then coughs teasingly. “Get over here, beautiful. I hate that stinking scent on you. The whiff of another man. A needy human boy.”
Reiner makes a retching motion as he pins me against the wall of his bedroom and nuzzles my neck. It doesn’t take long before Fynn’s scent is replaced by his, which is my favorite part of this whole mission we’re on.
After our wild lovemaking, I fill in Reiner. I tell him what Fynn found out while he wandered downtown in an area where he shouldn’t roam. He discovered that his mother is involved with the Waning Gibbous coven, but it’s unclear why. From what he said, she didn’t appear to be spellbound, as he mentioned, they almost seemed like… friends. I doubt they put a hex on his mother; he would have seen signs, such as glazed eyes or her unusual positioning. She sure as hell wouldn’t be chatting and laughing with them. All of it was incredibly odd.
“So, it seems we need to visit them then. It’s the fastest way to find out what they are up to. Fuck. I hate those manipulative bitches, I really do,” he responds.
“I know, I’m not thrilled about it either, but they wouldn’t dare use their magic against either of us, especially after our display at the square. A lot of the witches are afraid of us,” I say smugly.
“As they should be, you and I belong to the deadliest covens; together we are more than a lethal combination,” he purrs.
“Now that I smell like me again, would you do me the honor of escorting and helping me interrogate these witches? I would be lying if I denied my own curiosity at all of this,” I say with a smirk.
“I’d be delighted, my dearest.”
Reiner holds out his hand, scarred, with calloused fingers that tell stories of violence and survival, and I fold my hand into his.
We get dressed and head out to the eastern part of town, which houses mostly witches and their covens, a fact I intentionally kept from Fynn. The eastern part of the city, allotted to the witches, is a place where members of all covens can be found. The southern part is considered vampire territory, and the square and its surroundings are home to a mixture of supernatural creatures. I’m certain Fynn and his human companion turned quite a few curious heads in the witches’ territory; we rarely get human visitors nowadays. On the border of the witch's area, there are several streets that werewolves inhabit, a well-kept secret within the coven community, a built-in failsafe in case the vampires ever decide to disrespect the truce. One bite from a werewolf, or any were-being, is lethal to any vampire. Most witches keep some vials of the venom at home. I’ve also heard stories of witches injecting themselves with the venom, ensuring that a vampire will die if they ever try to bite them. I’m unsure whether we can survive such poison, though; perhaps some covens could. The Waning Gibbous covenprobably figured out a way to survive it, as they are The Witches of Poison and Infection.
As we stroll through the area, witches hurriedly make way for us. I can’t help but feel a surge of power and aggression, my shadows pulsating with energy. I cautiously unleash them after Reiner's encouraging words, reminding me not to fear my own potential but to embrace it. Reiner strides beside me, his authority and confidence radiating, bordering on arrogance. His imposing figure, the fog swirling around us, his striking appearance—together, we’re an unstoppable force, and everyone within the witches' territory senses it.
He marches toward the door of the quarters of the Waning Gibbous coven, knowing exactly where to find them. Their housing appears uninhabitable for a reason, as if there’s nothing to gain from even breaking into the house—a concealment spell, perhaps, manipulating passersby. Their spells are hard to recognize for me as a youngling, even for other witches with more experience. The Waning Gibbous are actual trickster witches in that sense, being able to even fool their own kind. But Reiner seems to be familiar with their spell work, unlike me. Reiner uses the door knocker loudly; after several seconds, he forcefully kicks open the wooden door, splintering the frame. Startled sounds erupt from within as the door creaks open with a loud thud, the tension in the air palpable. A flicker of astonishment crosses my face at Reiner's violent display of power. I inhale sharply, then I square my shoulders. We are here for a reason. I look at the broken door, and instantly, the magic protecting the house starts repairing it, lifting pieces of wood from the floor and fusing them back together.
“My favorite witches!” Reiner exclaims with a sarcastic undertone.
I shake my head at the unnecessary show of force as I trail after him into the space, careful not to step on any wood. Reiner likes to put on a good show.
“Where’s the hospitality? Not even letting in your own kin? I did knock,” he says.
As Reiner continues his charade, mocking the women, I look around. Several witches are huddled together, and an elder looks at us, her creased face showing her irritation. Long gray hair surrounds her old features; her arms are folded in annoyance.
“Enough, Reiner,” the elder says sternly.
He walks over to the elder, takes her frail hand, and presses a kiss on her wrinkled, spotted skin.
“Helda, always a pleasure, looking marvelous as ever,” he responds.
Of course, he knows the elder of this coven. I’m sure he knows breaking that door wouldn’t matter either, as it’s almost restored now. Given her agitation at the sight of Reiner, I wonder what sort of history they have together. He drops down on a chair and beckons me to sit on his lap. Unsure of his play, I decide to go along with it and plop down on his muscled thigh. One arm snakes around my waist, and he rests his other hand on my thigh—a declaration of our belonging together.
“Caria, this is Helda, the elder of the Waning Gibbous coven. Don’t let her appearance fool you; she’s as cunning as ever. Helda, this is my beloved, Caria, but I am sure you have heard of her and her talents.”
The older woman just nods as she glowers at him, not even looking at me. She refuses to lose sight of him, and my intrigue grows by the second as I eye them both, fascinated by their unspoken game.
“Yes, yes, the stories traveled even here; it was all awe-inspiring, and we are grateful, Reiner. It is lovely to meet youin the flesh, my child. Nowyou, what doyouwant, Reiner?” she says, quickly acknowledging me and then glancing back at Reiner.
“Well… a little birdy told me that your witches are socializing with a human, Helda. One who is protected with the ancient magic Aurum, which is very rare in itself, and I want to know why. Why is your coven involved with this woman?” he responds, taunting.
His piercing, mismatched eyes are now focused solely on Helda; a thin layer of fog is covering him, and I see it floats around me, too. A shield to protect against possible manipulation of or influence on our senses. This man has thought all of this through, while I’d intended to visit and have a talk, unaware of their full potential to harm me in return. I was so consumed with the idea that my being a Death Witch would be sufficient to keep them at bay. I feel like an idiot as I watch both of them stare each other down. No, she’s not staring him down; she’s probing for weaknesses in his shield. Angrily, I add another layer of protection; my shadows merge immediately with his fog, forging an impenetrable force field.
“We came here for answers, Helda; we didn’t come to play or to test our powers against yours; if we did, you and your entire coven would be on the losing end,” I say coldly.
Reiner traces my spine with his finger, an approving caress, to encourage me.
“I suggest you start speaking unless you desire to find out the full strength of our power; I have no objections to fulfilling a death wish, nor do I owe you any allegiance,” I continue.
