by Luna Pierce
I turn around in a hurry, only to find nothing but the dark night sky funneling through the cracks in the trees.
“To your left.”
I jump again.
“To your right, no, there!”
I stop spinning around in circles, only realizing too late that the voice in my head was trying to disorient me. And it completely worked.
“Was this even a trap?” I insist, rage fueling me at being so easily duped.
“In due time, Willow.”
I take a step forward, determined to find the way to my temporary home.
“Are you sure about that?”
I stop, glancing around, nothing really showing me which way to go. I close my eyes, pulling my magic toward me in an all too familiar way. “Which way?” I mouth.
The energy bubbles up, and right when it’s about to answer, the voice interrupts.
“It’s such a shame you’ve ended up alone. But it’s not really all that surprising, is it? Deep down, you knew you’d drive everyone away. You’re nothing. No wonder no one wants anything to do with you. You’re a waste of space, a disgrace to your name. You don’t deserve the power surging through your veins. Those friends of yours, they’re going to forget you without you having to take their memories. They’ll do it without your help because you’re that forgettable. Brooke is moving on without a second thought, like you worried she would. And the guys, oh, you thought they cared about you? How pathetic are you? Each one of them was using you for something. They’re all better off without you. Why do you think your dad left, why your mother abandoned you? You’re an embarrassment. Even your Uncle Danny can’t be bothered to show up. This world would be a better place if you had never been born. You should do everyone a kindness and be gone.”
Each word stings more than the next. They tear down my defenses, break me in ways I never imagined, and there’s not a fucking thing I can do to make them stop. At some point, I fall to my knees, my hands digging into the dirt around me. A sad pathetic waste of a witch.
My heart aches. My soul crushed. My magic a faraway thing I can’t seem to summon despite desperately trying.
A flash of light bursts about dozen feet in front of me, and for the smallest second, my mom stands there.
I’m on my feet in a rush, half stumbling and running toward the light.
It disappears, along with the beautiful woman.
I crash into the ground, my knees scraping forcibly, skin ripping away and stinging badly. Somehow, it’s nothing compared to the wound inside my chest.
“If anything, I give you credit for making my job that much easier.”
The earth around me shakes, a crack forming a few feet away, a deep, dark-red illumination pooling out. A type of fog seeps through, twisting and turning and twirling up and out, forming into a creature above the surface.
Another demon.
“You see, it was so simple, luring you out into the woods. You practically walked yourself right onto a bull’s-eye. It might as well be taking candy from a baby.”
Another flash, and this time there’s Lillian, her face contorted and strained. I launch straight toward her, my arms slashing through at nothing, and she disappears into thin air.
“See, I told you.”
I blink through the haze, trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.
The long and lanky demon that shaped itself from a strange dark smog definitely appears real. It turns toward me, and I stumble back, grating my hands on the rocks lining the ground behind me.
Something resembling a nose sniffs the air as though it’s smelling the blood seeping from my wounds. A long, lizard-like tongue licks its lipless face, and the demon hovers toward me.
I kick at it, the demon shifting its body to block the blow and reforming immediately. Unlike the last demon I faced, this one doesn’t speak.
“It doesn’t need to. I do all the talking for it, and I control its every move. The only reason it hasn’t attacked is because I haven’t allowed it to.”
“What are you waiting for?” The words remind me of sticky peanut butter in my mouth. My speech slurs, and my hearing changes. These things can control how I see and think and speak, and they’re suppressing my magic. I really did walk right into this trap, and there is no way out.
If that’s the case, maybe Sydney isn’t against me in some way. Unfortunately, staring into the face of this demon, being completely stripped of all my abilities, I’ll never know the truth.
“I’m going to enjoy this, watching you squirm and suffer. No one is coming for you, Willow. You’re mine now to do with as I please.”
The demon floats closer, and I inch back more, this time slamming into a tree, halted to a complete stop.
The dark hazy creature grazes my foot, and a surge of power exits my body, leaving me even more weak and helpless.
I swallow down the reality that I’m going to die out here in these woods, alone and confused about what’s real or not. At the end of the day, this is all my fault. My fault for thinking I could challenge the curse, that I could overcome it and free the Olivers of their oppression. That I could ever have people in my life who cared about me and that I would get to experience what love felt like. I should have never left the school. And more, I never should have thought I could have a new start at the academy. If I stayed home, none of this ever would have happened. I wouldn’t have hurt people who never deserved to be hurt. I never would have lost my mom.
“Yes, Willow. You’re exactly right. Now, you finally see how much of a burden you are.”
Another flicker, Silas appearing, concern lining every perfect inch of his face. But this time, I don’t move. It’s fake, some ruse to get me to move forward, and for once, I don’t allow it to happen. I’m done playing this thing’s games. If it wants me, it’s going to have to come get me itself.
Reading my mind, the voice laughs and commands the dark haze toward me. The pain is sharp and bitter when it caresses my legs, inching up my body. I lose focus on the vision of Silas, the hot agony forcing my eyes shut.
If anything, at least the last thing I’ll have seen before I die is the face of someone I care about deeply.
“Willow,” Silas’s speech fills my ears. He winces, a yelp of pain leaving his mouth.
I must be delirious, or the voice is now attacking me with a new tactic.
Hands grip my shoulders, shaking me fiercely. They’re cool and strong and rattle me with the energy that pulses through them and into me. Hands all too memorable. Hands that could truly only belong to one person.
“Silas,” I breathe.
He pulls me away from the tree, setting me right back down only a few feet away but removing me from the spot where the demon remains.
I open my eyes and find him standing in front of me, shielding me with himself, blocking the demon with his beautiful purple magic. He whips his arm back like a baseball pitcher, a ball of glowing power forming and being expelled in the direction of the demon.
A portion of the creature falls apart, and it quickly retreats to the crevice, only to be reformed by more dark fog.
“It’s regenerating,” I say.
“Willow, stay behind me.” Silas plants his feet, standing firmly in place.
I stand, somehow finding my strength in his presence. Stumbling, I find my own footing next to him. “Do you mind?” I hold out my hand next to his shoulder.
He nods his approval, and I place my hand on him, soaking up some of his strength.
I’m not even sure how I knew that would work, but feeling his hands on me a few moments earlier, I realize Silas breathes a whole new life into me that I was so unaware of.
I let go of him, the wave of energy soaring back through me.
“You’re smart, but not smart enough.” The terror in its voice sends chills up my spine.
The demon settles to the ground, splitting into dozens of other human-sized versions of itself. They stop multiplying, only to shift their form further, taking
on the identity of the person who stands right next to me.
Without allowing him to protest, I summon my energy, placing both hands on him. “You have to go. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Silas’s eyes go wide, but I don’t let it change my mind. I shove a burst of magic into him, willing him as far as I can push him into the forest.
“I can’t hurt you if you’re not here,” I say into the darkness.
I turn back to the strange hell, dozens of angry Silas’s stalking toward me.
One by one, they attack. Swift and violent but no match to my power. It’s not long until they come in packs, and then, all at once.
Each defeated Silas is a punch to my gut, reminding me over and over of something I’m incredibly afraid of. Thinking I had killed him a few weeks back was nearly the end of me—it shattered the shadow realm and fractured my soul. I will never allow that to happen again, and that’s exactly why I sent him away, knowing my magic is what has to bring this monster down.
I scream, but this time, no sudden atomic bomb of energy, just pure, unadulterated rage with every ball of power, ripping the Silases apart piece by piece.
Minutes, maybe hours go by, and I’m lost in a fury of swinging my arms, throwing magic at each thing coming my way.
The fake Silases keep coming, and for a second it crosses my mind that I’m not sure how long I can keep going. It’s a fleeting thought, though, and is replaced with the endless desire to keep those I care about safe.
I blast another Silas in half, ripping him to shreds and focusing on another. The shattered remains drift down and then dissipate completely.
A dozen of them run toward me, and I heave my magic in, reeling it to a concentrated core, waiting for the right moment to fire it, blowing them all away and preparing for the next attack.
The demons’ spawning rate decreases, and for once, there’s a manageable number of Silases to destroy.
My vision moves me to something else, a new face in the crowd.
Sydney.
But this apparition doesn’t flash, doesn’t have a weird white light like the others. It doesn’t attack, it merely hovers on the ground near the crack in the earth where the demons keep coming from.
Sydney waves his arms, his mouth moving, and jolts of green magic flow into the ground. His face is tight and serious.
A Silas blurs in my peripheral, and I slash at it, sending it back to whatever hell it came from. I throw a dagger of flowing pink magic at two more, then rotate and hit three.
I spin in a circle slowly, counting the six left that surround me.
At once, they raise their hands, coming at me slower than they ever have.
“Willow,” they say in unison, a voice so similar to the real Silas.
This new tactic throws me a wicked curveball. What if one of them is the real Silas?
“I’m not going to hurt you,” one of the Silases speaks up.
I change my consideration to the sound of the voice, studying the face with caution. This can’t be the real one, can it?
“Come here, I will protect you,” another Silas says.
Silas would never say that. Not giving it another chance to deceive me, I slam a bolt of energy through it, eyeing it dissolving into nothing.
Five left.
I scan the rest of the faces, doing another three-eighty.
“Willow, it’s me. The one you’re fated to… you have to see it’s me.”
What a mistake. Silas doesn’t talk about fate unless I force him into it. He would never so willingly say something like that.
I take another Silas down.
Four remaining.
They all take a hesitant step forward.
“How will you choose the right one?”
“Why are you doing this?” I yell into the night.
Sydney glances up from his post, going immediately back to work on sealing the crack.
“Pick a Silas, Willow… you’re wasting everyone’s time.”
Pick a Silas? As if my decision doesn’t matter. Because none of these are the real Silas.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply, searching and scanning for the man I’m connected to.
I blink back into reality and exhale, spinning in a swift circle, blasting each remaining Silas with the sharpest energy I can summon.
I fall to the ground, not daring to watch what I’ve done, to verify whether or not I made the right decision.
Tears overflow, and my emotions bubble up and take hold. I fold into myself, so fucking afraid for what I’ve done.
Chapter Nineteen
The world goes quiet. There are no voices, no sounds of the forest, only my ragged and labored breathing.
I have to look, to see what I’ve done, but I can’t bring myself to face the reality of potentially making the wrong decision.
The possibility alone is enough to destroy me.
The image of Silas lying lifeless in the shadow realm consumes me. His body was limp and utterly motionless. His head in my lap. The sheer rage that built and flooded over.
I’m fortunate that my explosion did no harm to Cameron, Deghan, and Sydney.
But regardless, I made the mistake of hurting Silas and putting everyone else in danger.
“Willow,” a voice calls out. So fucking recognizable.
I whip my head in its direction, my body lurching backward as yet another Silas comes running forward. My hands strain against the ground, blood flowing from my cuts. I wince and throw my arms up to block whatever is approaching, the tears spilling down. I don’t have it in me to defeat another Silas. If this is the end, then so be it. I can’t continue to destroy even a fake version of him anymore.
Not concerned with the possibility of me hurting him, he skids to a stop at my feet, immediately tugging me into his arms. The painful touch of the demon never comes, only the blissful embrace of Silas Harlow, the very real one.
I don’t mean to, but I flinch.
“It’s me. I promise. It’s me. It’s your Silas. You did it. It’s over. Oh, Willow. Are you okay?”
I sob, my arms pressed awkwardly between his and my chest. I shake my head. “How… how are you here?”
“There was a barrier. I couldn’t get in. Angels, I tried. I watched the whole thing. I felt everything. I’m so sorry. The moment you destroyed the last one, the wall broke free.”
Footsteps sound on the ground, alerting me to an approaching person.
My body tenses, and my Silas holds tighter.
A growl permeates from him. “Get away.”
“Is she… is she okay?” Sydney asks.
I push away from Silas, using his shoulder to bring myself up. I point a furious finger at Sydney. “You stay away from me.”
Sydney’s face drops, and his hands move toward me.
Silas vamp-speeds between us. “You heard her.” His shoulders square; he’s prepared to stand his ground.
“Willow, I…” Sydney mutters. “You have it all wrong.”
“Whatever we had, Sydney, we’re done. Do you hear me? Done.”
My heart breaks at the declaration, but how can I continue to allow someone in my life who has put me in such danger? The worst part of all is he’s hiding something even greater from me that I’ve yet to figure out.
“I can explain, please.” Sydney takes a step.
Silas throws his forearm into Sydney’s chest, stopping him from moving.
“Please,” Sydney begs.
I shake my head, the fatigue of the battle hitting me, the open wounds on my body throbbing and bleeding everywhere.
Silas shoves Sydney and then swoops me into his arms, rushing us away, into the forest, and leaving Sydney behind.
It’s not long until we reach a cabin, tucked between layers of trees.
“Where are we?” The uncertainty of whether I should trust Silas creeps in. How can I be sure of anything anymore? What if Silas has bad intentions, too?
We step across the threshold and into the cozy buildin
g. I scan the contents, everything seeming so his style. Dark, moody, but clean and organized.
“I can sense your worry, Willow. And words are words, but I promise you, I mean you no harm.” He puts his hand to his chest. “It would kill me to hurt you.”
Silas’s steel-gray eyes captivate me, and without realizing it, I raise my hand to his face.
I go to speak but catch sight of my bloodied palms. I jerk my arm quickly down to my side, not wanting to throw any natural alarms off in Silas’s head.
How he’s so capable of controlling his thirst I’ll never be able to understand. But maybe what we learn in stories isn’t always true.
Silas latches onto my wrist, turning it over and running a finger along the outside of the wound.
“May I?” he asks gently.
I sit on the edge of the king-sized bed and extend my hand.
He kneels on the floor between my legs, gently taking my offering. He brings his own hand to his mouth, opening wide and allowing his fangs to fully protrude.
They’re long and sharp and elegantly magnificent.
Silas bites into his palm, drawing blood like he did the time I hurt myself shaving, and carefully strokes it against my cut. Within seconds, my lesion heals itself, the pain floating away as if it was never there, only the memory of it remains.
He delicately lets go, possessing my other hand and repeating the motion.
Once both are fixed, he focuses his attentiveness to my mangled legs.
My shins, knees, even my thighs are cut and sliced open, skin dangling around the edges of my pants. Dirt and debris cake the layers between blood and fabric and skin.
Sighing and shaking his head, he gets to work.
He starts low, healing what he can seem to reach, moving up and up.
His touch is paradise, and the relief from the restoration is glorious.
He grazes his palm across my mid-thigh, and it’s all I can do to sit still. Every so often, his gorgeous eyes meet mine for a look of approval, sending sparks flying in my chest.
His fingers roam to my waist, hooking into my belt loops, tugging the material.
