“And the Umbra.”
“Yes, him too,” I confirm.
I leave the compound, and I don’t miss the flicker of hope in some of the men's eyes as they watch me walk away. Thom waves at me, and I give him a quick wave back. I’d never thought much about becoming an actual hunter, even though it intrigued me. I wanted to join his league of men; however, I see myself leading the group more than following Faas like some pawn he can use in this game of his. Furthermore, I fail to see how Jodelle will fit into that image, as she will become an obstacle in pursuing that path.
Kill her, and live your life. All she does is restrain you from doing what you truly want.
“What? No,” I mutter.
The thoughts become more ruthless and urgent the longer I am not able to lay my hands on Harlot, turning them into a predatory desire. It is suffocating, the murder-laced thoughts that constantly consume my mind, and I feel less able to control my actions with each passing day. Faas told me to return tonight, promising he’d have found Caria. I didn’t bother asking him how he would obtain her, and possibly that witch of hers, Reiner, as I find it hard to believe he would ever leave her side.Not that it matters, I’ll burn him to death the moment he gets in my way. Perhaps it’ll satisfy some of my thirst for blood.
Caria is still nowhere to be found at the inn, and I find it hard to believe she vanished into thin air. She’s hiding from me, and it pisses me off. I clench my fists as memories of that day rush back—the fear on her face, the thought that I could have killed her… and the unease I feel for being robbed of that moment. The conflict inside me grows stronger: relief that Caria got away, the anger ignited by that parasite, and my fucking sister, who saved her.
When I come back into the room, Jodelle is gone as well. Irritation sweeps over me, and I slam the door closed behind me as I stomp outside. Where did that woman go? I peer into the streets in search of my soulmate, and perhaps a sea of red as my mind veers in the direction of the Death witch.
I don’t have to search for long, as screams erupt outside and the chaos forces me to move. I run toward the noise, only a few streets from the inn, and I see Jodelle standing there. A few witches writhe on the cobblestone street, crimson pouring from their mouths, and thick clouds of steam rise from their cooked bodies. Their flesh is swollen and split. A gentle breeze plays with her honey-colored hair, giving it a golden glow, making her look like a fallen angel of havoc. A small crowd surrounds her, watching Jodelle with fear and disgust. Only when I get closer do I notice that all three witches have long, red hair, now matted to their faces with blood and sweat.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss.
Slowly, she turns on her heel, facing me. Blood saturates her face. Red splatters coat her fair skin, resembling a morbid version of freckles. There’s no remorse on her face, despite it being evident that she wounded the witches fatally. They lie bleeding out, desperately clinging to their lives. She blinks at me,her thick lashes moving along, yet her bright blue eyes betray no emotion.
“I was looking for you,” she says, holding my gaze. “I thought you might be with your witch, so I played a game.”
She motions around her, her eyes landing on the bodies that no longer move. Their eyes are glazed over with a horrified expression on their waxy faces. The foul scent of cooked flesh is suddenly heavy in the air, and I cough.
“You played a game?” I repeat, bewildered, and then it hits me.
She thought she could just go outside and start a killing spree until she reached Caria.
I walk over to her and grab her arm firmly, my digits digging into her flesh, bruising her skin once more, even though I had said never again. I see tears well up in her eyes, but I don’t give a fuck. Her bullshit is exhausting, and I instantly forfeit the promise I silently made never to hurt her again. Every time, she finds new ways to ignite the flames of my hatred toward her. Jodelle baits my fury with her nonsense, a whisper that crawls underneath my skin, and I can’t get rid of it. It nestles itself deeper with each derailed action from her side. A saccharine smile spread across her beautiful face. I squint my eyes at her, as she’s blissfully unaware of the rousing storm inside me that cries out to my stirring hunger. I want to tear her limbs one by one, hear the sickening fracturing of her bones as her flesh and muscles are ripped apart.
Shocked at my thoughts, I suddenly release her, and she stumbles, falling on her ass, landing in the pool of blood. The dress she wears soaks up the blood, causing the fabric to cling to her body. She looks up at me furiously. She stands up and, in her anger, turns around, her eyes scanning the circle of watchers that has expanded, taking in our interaction, our public fight. It’sas if she’s going to randomly pick a new victim to take out her wrath on.
Out of nowhere, Lucian emerges from the group and steps forward, trying to defuse the situation.
“Is this necessary, young lady? Can’t we all co-exist in peace?” His voice is warm, cunning, but before he manages to get out another word, Jodelle unleashes her power onto him. By getting into her peripheral vision, he involuntarily volunteered as a tribute. My eyes widen in shock as I see flames conjuring, licking, and swirling around his body, burning his pale flesh. He stares at me for help, but there’s nothing I can do. Jodelle stands there, a strange grin on her face. Then, a thought is pushed into my brain, a telepathic message. It feels as though I have a headache as I meet it with resistance.
Tell the dhampir I did love his mother; it was never his fault that she died. A human rarely survives birth to a half-breed. It’s not his fault. Tell him!
Within minutes, the flames subside, and his corpse turns ashen—the ash carried by the wind, the coal particles dancing around us. Jodelle snarls, and the assembly of spectators begins to split up into hysterical panic. Seething, I stride to Jodelle, grab her once more, and drag her back to the inn. She falters and begins to sob softly. Inside, I shove her onto the bed. I’m seeing red, and I scold her for the stunt she just performed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
She cowers, her attitude from a few minutes ago nowhere to be found.
“You murdered three witches and a fucking vampire! A prominent one in this city! Do you have any idea what you just did?!”
Rage consumes me, and I give her a firm slap. My face twists in fury. She doesn’t dare to look at me, nor does she speak. Jodelle huddles up, rocking back and forth, and with a deep sigh, I sit next to her, massaging my temples. I ignore her tears. I have no idea what kind of problems she created for us. I don’t know how far our power extends, or whether we could take down an entire city. I let myself fall back onto the bed, which protests under my weight.
As Jodelle continues to weep, I let the words that were pressed into my mind linger as I recall them. I know it was the vampire. So, Lucian claims to be Faas’s father… He truly loved Faas’s mother… But… I can’t share this with the dhampir yet, at least not now. I need him by my side; I need him filled with rage against the darklings. I can’t let him go soft or show any doubts. I pocket the thoughts, give Jodelle a quick glare, then stare at the ceiling. I don’t speak a word; instead, I wait until it’s time to leave her presence. I can’t stand being this close to her right now. My skin itches, my mind races with vile thoughts, and all I want to do is wrap my hands around her throat.
I have a hard time believing she went outside to kill red-haired witches, hoping one would be Caria, the stupid idiot. It’s sickening. Not that I’m aware of the witch’s whereabouts, but I highly doubt she would be strolling the streets in the center of Valorya right now.
Ever since our encounter where I lost my patience and mind, she’s been in hiding,from me. I realize I never told Jodelle, and it dawns on me that I’ll never be able to tell it to her either. She’ll spin the narrative and question me on not delivering.
This woman is the epitome of jealousy when it comes to my death witch, her desire to see Caria as a decaying corpse almostmatches my desire to see Harlot buried deep in the dirt. Perhaps Jodelle will be lucky, and I’ll grant her the wish myself.
Spiriting Away
