‘How can a boy be caring, strong and vicious?’ I kept my tone calm. ‘Even without the proper understanding of their culture, you basically told him he’s not a man.’
Eyebrows shooting up, my words inspired her. ‘So you’re saying I need to come up with a different name that wouldn’t strike his ego as much?’
‘If that’s your conclusion, knock yourself out.' My words died out a little as she jumped off my bed. ‘Let me know how he took the change of nicknames. When are you going next?’
‘Tomorrow,’ she said excitedly, walkingaway.
Just before she left I remembered. ‘Miriam, wait. Do you have any repellent?’
‘Like for insects?’ She looked around the room, dusting her long sleeves off as if she were afraid something crawled on her.
‘What?’ I didn’t even know how to react. ‘For men.’
‘Preach, sister; somebody should invent that shit.’
The level of peculiarity in this family was something to be experienced; perhaps it was a dominant gene that clung to every member.
Thank Gods I was spared.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Willow
The road to hell was paved with good intentions. I remembered reading the quote somewhere, and it stuck as a mantra of sorts whenever I needed to pat myself on the back for doing something undeniably wicked. Not because it reminded me of the eternity of hell awaiting me—I found the notion hilarious—but because I would drag the do-gooders down to hell with me.
And so I marched at the top of the hill, prepared to make the shadow idiot’s life a living hell so that he would regret keeping me here.
My powers hadn’t come back yet. It troubled me immensely because how long could a girl like me remain powerless? So many lessons needed to be taught, I was beginning to lose track. Perhaps I had to get myself a journal and keep a record.
‘Come to mummy,’ I said as I cut the weird thing near its thick base. It oozed a slimy substance, and I made surenot to touch it.
Witchcraft wasn’t necessary to sense when shit was hazardous.
But what was life without danger? I would rather keel over than let that dark, loathsome waste of space dictate my fate. The way he crafted an illusion in his head of overseeing me suggested problems deeper than mere idiocy, but that wasn’t my problem to bear.
Though perhaps it would be of benefit to everyone to simply… put the fucker down. Slowly, if I felt generous. If I could do so violently, that would serve as great compensation for my recent struggles.
I was beginning to think having to live among these people was some sort of karma—a cosmic way to right the wrongs once the realm realised one person had the fun of ten. And oh, at times I did… or should I say with?
Either way, it seemed I wouldn’t get free until I paid my dues. But the Gods knew me, the nature goddesses crafted me in this way for a purpose. I was a being of pleasure and pain and nothing in between, and since neither of them deserved a modicum of satisfaction, I was on my way to deliver what I did best.
Hopping between different formations of the luminescent fungi, I hummed a seductive note I had learnt from a siren on our most northern coast. It relaxed me and made my conquests lose inhibitions.
The last Ortensian male I slept with and sang for offered his generational wealth for a chance at a duel with my future fiancé. Though I laughed in his face, I quite enjoyed the sentiment, even if I would never uphold the archaic custom.
The truth was, men were such deeply pathetic creatures that women began treating them as equals out of pity. They responded well to my pleasure-and-pain approach because that’s how their simplistic brains functioned. Black and white and nothing in between, forever lost to nuance and more profound meanings of life.
It was precisely why the king of this shithole and his Gods-damned son would curse the day they forced my hand.
Trotting back with a satchel full of mysterious mushrooms, I nearly gagged, noting the trail of mucus that dripped behind me along the way. How could they even produce that much?
Planting them back into the soil in such a way that they spelledAssholeoverlooking the massive dining room window, I knew just what to do to help them grow.
Normally, I would use my witchcraft, but the current predisposition forced me to go slightly old-fashioned. Using a needle I swiped from the house help, I pricked my middle finger, since it’s all he deserved.
Making sure to spread the droplets evenly over the fungi, I watched, fascinated, as they sprung back to life, glowing stronger than even before I disturbed them.
Giggles tickled my throat as I struggled to force myself to quiet once I reached the front door. It was thick and heavy, just like its owners. Slowing and quieting down wasn’t because I was afraid—it was because getting caught wasn’t on my to-do list, and it would ruin the nasty surprise.
