Page 6 of Sacrificial Souls


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“Shit,” the witch muttered, moving closer to the hell’s trap.

I wet my lips, unable to peel my eyes away from her high heels and white-painted toes. Only a few more steps—but before she could get any closer, a piercing shriek echoed through the room. I blinked, and a ghoulish figure appeared.

“Apage,” I commanded.

The wraith shook violently and disappeared.

“What did you say to it?” she asked, eager and desperate.

“I told it to fuck off. Well, I actually told it to begone, but same thing.”

“You can just tell the spirits to leave, and they listen?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Spirits don’t always know they’re dead. Sometimes a command jolts them into awareness.” My voice was calm, despite the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins. I left out the fact that the spirit had to fear the person saying the command, because the witch looked anything but scary. “And that wasn’t just any spirit, that was a wraith.”

She shook her head, “The spirits aren’t supposed to be angry when they come to me.”

“Well, I don’t know what other spirits you’ve been dealing with, but that was most definitely a wraith.” Wraiths were mean motherfuckers. Pain and agony rippled through the wounds they inflicted, forcing their victims to relive their most painful memories while bleeding out.

“We need to hurry,” I urged. “It’ll be back any minute.”

The witch’s rapid heartbeat grew louder as she inched closer to me. Her magic pulsed, and I fought the disgust churning in my stomach. Ripping her throat out would be counterproductive to gaining my freedom.

“You think it’ll come back?” Her voice shook. “But you sent it away.” A cloud of mist escaped from her lips as she spoke. She backed into the hell’s trap just as the wraith materialized.

An ear-splitting scream tore through the room. The witch doubled over, hands clamped over her ears at the shrieking sound that no one outside the spelled room would hear. Night after night, I screamed until my lungs gave out, and still, Devin never stirred from his slumber.

“Why isn’t it attacking?” Fear threaded her words.

I motioned to the sigil on the ceiling. “It’s a hell’s trap.”

“A…what?” The whites of her eyes shone in the dimness, her voice barely a whisper. “What are you?”

“I’m your best shot at getting out of here alive.” If she wasn’t going to willingly let me out, I had no issue using a little force. “Now, all you have to do is wipe away one tiny line,” I whispered in her ear with a velvet like softness, pressing my body against hers.

She thrashed trying to free herself from my grip, her ass shifting against my hardening cock.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She stopped immediately.Fuck, she took directions well.

The witch trembled like a leaf, her gaze fixed on the wraith. She chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating like she really had a choice.

“Alright, fine.” She conceded.

I tightened my grip on her hips and lifted her off the ground. My cock jumped at the softness of her body. Every muscle in my body was taut with anticipation as her shaky hand wiped away a fragment of the outer line.

A weight lifted; the magical chokehold was gone. For the first time in months, I was able to fucking breathe.

I set her gently on the ground, then surged forward, a desperate lunge toward my freedom that had once felt so out of reach. I barely managed two steps before the wraith slammed into me, a blur of shadow and fury. It didn’t spare the witch a second glance, honing in on the real threat. Me.

Months of pent-up anger erupted within me, urging me to rip the wraith to shreds. A sharp crackle sparked against my neck, a warning from the collar I’d only fry my insides.

“A little help,” I ground out, but the girl was gone.

Fucking witches.

“Apa—” The word died in my throat as bony fingers sliced through my side. Pain burned like hellfire, seeping from the wound and spreading throughout my entire body.

I managed to throw my weight at him, our limbs a tangled mess. He raised his hand to strike again but my boot connected with his leg. I tried to catch my breath, preparing for another attack. I was ready to go twelve rounds with this fucker.