Just A Little Wicked: A Limited Edition Collection of Magical Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Tales

by Lily Luchesi

  I chuckled, and turned back toward the halfling Elf, waiting for her to answer my question.

  “Seven months now,” Reslyn replied. “And I’m still stuck in grey.”

  Seven months. My mouth practically dropped to the floor. “How about the others? Have all the others been here that long?”

  “A few. Thor’s been here twice that time, I heard.” Reslyn looked over her shoulder, at the group gathered around the chess table. “The girl with the brown hair, Freya. She’s been here for three months, and if gossip is to be believed, then she’ll be the next one invited to the initiation ritual. Apparently, she heard the Red God speak.”

  I looked at Freya, with her stern, haughty face and complicated hairdo. Three months. If that was the minimum time I would have to spend within these walls before the Blood God decided to pay me a visit, then I’d rather jump off a cliff into the Endless Sea, and be pulled down by the vortex leading straight to the underworld.

  The door to the common room opened, and Ethel stood in the doorway. “It’s time.” She turned on her heel and waited for us to follow her.

  I started to get a feel of the layout of this labyrinth. As Ethel led us from corridor to corridor, I realized we were walking back toward the main hall where we had lunch this afternoon. Reslyn stuck next to me but remained quiet.

  As I suspected, we entered the main hall again, but then passed right through it, to a door in the back of the room. Crossing the double doors, we entered a room that looked like a church, with high, curved ceilings, benches spread throughout, and an altar in the back of the room.

  Behind the altar stood Altheia, her hood covering her hair. An eerie chant erupted from the other priests seated in the room, a shrill hum that pierced my eardrums, a thousand times worse than the legendary mandrake’s shriek.

  Candlelight illuminated the church, casting grotesque shadows on the walls, their effect heightened by the creepy chanting. Stone statues stood to the side, their faces grimacing as if in pain.

  Ethel led us straight to the altar. Nerves churned in my stomach—I would’ve preferred to be seated like the others, not dragged to the front like a pig ready for slaughter.

  “Tamrin,” Altheia said.

  I narrowed my eyes, staring at the front of the line. Tamrin was standing in the front… But how? I hadn’t even seen her in the common room…

  Altheia held up Tamrin’s hand and lifted a knife. The steel flashed in the eerie candlelight. The High Priestess brought down the knife and cut into Tamrin’s hand.

  I gasped, and Reslyn grabbed my wrist, telling me to stay quiet.

  Red liquid dropped from the shapeshifter’s hand, onto the altar. Seconds passed by; the air pregnant with anticipation.

  Eventually, Altheia looked at Tamrin and shook her head. “Not ready.”

  Tamrin bowed her head and moved to one of the empty seats in the front. One by one, the acolytes’ hands were cut, blood spilled on the altar, and one by one, the Red God told them ‘no.’ As we shuffled to the front of the line, it was eventually Reslyn’s turn, and then mine.

  Swallowing hard, I held out my hand. As Altheia cut it with her already bloodied knife, I gritted my teeth not to cry out in pain.

  The High Priestess turned my hand, so that blood dripped on the leather-bound tome lying on the altar. The Book of Blood, which Reslyn had told me about.

  For a moment, I held my breath. Even though there was no reason for the Red God to say anything differently to me than to the others, nightmarish images haunted my mind of the book claiming me a traitor, a spy, and me being hauled out of the church by a hundred angry Red Priests.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Altheia looked up at me, shaking her head. “Not ready.”

  I breathed out in relief and sat down next to Reslyn.

  Freya, the girl with the braided brown hair, was up after me.

  After the High Priestess dropped some of Freya’s blood on the Book of Blood, Altheia beamed up, her eyes gleaming with pride.

  “Ready,” she said.

  Freya burst out in tears from joy, her smile so wide it was almost unnatural. “Our Master has called for me,” the young girl said while Altheia came from behind the altar to hug her. “I’m ready.” She seemed too stunned to believe it, overjoyed, as if this was the happiest day of her life.

  “Come,” Altheia said while she guided Freya behind the altar. “You may drink from the cup now, and then, the Blood God will test you. You must be strong, Freya. The test will not be easy, but the Red God would not test you if he didn’t think you were strong enough.”

  Freya moved behind the altar, guided by the High Priestess. Altheia handed her a golden cup, which Freya lifted to her lips and drank from.

  “Blood,” Reslyn whispered from next to me.

  Of course. Blood. Everything here always came down to blood.

  Freya finished drinking, while the eerie chanting by the other disciples continued.

  While Freya graduating from a grey to a white robe was technically a good thing, I couldn’t help but feel as if something terrible was about to happen. A worried feeling spread through my gut while I looked at Freya, a sense of foreboding nestling in my bones.

  Altheia put a hand on Freya’s arm and led her to the back of the room. I hadn’t noticed yet that a large wooden door was situated behind the altar, marked with a golden doorknob.

  Two Red Priests pushed the door open; one of them was Cullyn. His expression was grim, no doubt a reflection of my own.

  Bile rose up in my throat, and my chest felt hollow.

  “Will she be okay?” I asked Reslyn.

  “Sure,” the half-Elf said. “Why not?”

  I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, as Altheia and Freya vanished behind the gargantuan door. The door slammed shut behind them, and I could only guess where the High Priestess was taking the unsuspecting girl.

  The Red Priests started getting up. I turned to Reslyn. “Where are they going?”

  “To dinner.” Reslyn poked me in the ribs. “You didn’t think we’d sit here and wait? The initiation ritual usually takes all night.”

  “Oh.” I blushed, feeling like an idiot for the millionth time that day.

  In the usual order, the red robes walked out of the room first, followed by the black robes, then the white ones, and eventually us grey robes could get up and trace after them to the dining hall.

  As Reslyn and I got up, I cast a glance over my shoulder, at that ominously looking door, guarded by Cullyn and another male Red Priest.

  The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach refused to go away.

  Chapter Ten

  After dinner, during which Reslyn sat next to me and Tamrin sat opposite of us, although the shapeshifter refused to do so much as glance in my direction, Cullyn came to escort me back to my room.

  Reslyn had told me during dinner that the acolytes usually hung around in the common room afterwards, thus Cullyn’s presence meant that, apparently, I was still sentenced to spending the night in my cell, locked up. Maybe the Red Priests really feared I would roam around at night, looking for a book to teach me about runes, so I could remove the one blocking my magic. As if I would be stupid enough to do that.

  When we were alone in the hallway, I asked Cullyn, “Who will guard the door now you’re here?”

  “Someone else has taken over for a while,” he replied cryptically while he walked in front of me. “Why? You’re not getting behind that door, if that’s what you’re thinking, mage. For one, the Red God would skin you alive if you came in there uninvited. Secondly, you won’t get past the guards, trust me.”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I’m not a complete fool. I wasn’t trying to get in; I was just curious.”

  “Curiosity is a bad quality,” Cullyn said. Despite his remarks, he seemed less annoyed with me than he was this morning, or yesterday for that matter. Maybe I was starting to grow on him.

  “I’ve always seen it as one of my
best qualities,” I countered, as we rounded a corner into another hallway. If I was right, we would just need to cross one more hallway before we reached my room. “I heard the ritual will take all night? And then Freya will be one of the white robes?”

  “If all goes well, yes.”

  I frowned at him. “And what if all doesn’t go well?”

  Cullyn didn’t respond right away.

  Urged by the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that had haunted me ever since the Red God had deemed Freya ready to join his ranks, I reached out and grabbed Cullyn’s arm, digging my nails into his skin. “What will happen if all doesn’t go well?”

  The Red Priest stared at my hand, circled around his arm, but to my surprise, he didn’t snap at me to let go. Instead, he slowly levelled his gaze until his eyes met mine. “Then she’ll die.”

  My mouth dropped open, and the pain in my gut intensified. Freya was going to die. I didn’t know my magic allowed me to have premonitions—I had never had one—but I was so confident Freya wouldn’t survive this night, that I was willing to bet my life on it.

  Whatever happened during that initiation ritual, Freya wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

  “We have to stop it,” I said, temporarily forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to have magic at all and that even the slightest hint of a presentiment could be interpreted as magic. “Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.”

  Cullyn’s gaze darkened. “You’re just being dramatic.”

  But he didn’t push me away. He didn’t yell at me. And that told me that he knew. He felt it too. Maybe they all did.

  “Why didn’t you stop it?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  Cullyn averted his gaze, staring at the floor. “Once the Red God has chosen, no one can stop him. No one can defy a God, Saleyna.”

  Saleyna. He had used my name, rather than ‘mage.’ For the first time.

  But knowing that my dreadful sense of foreboding would become reality, deprived me of all the happiness I might’ve felt over hearing Cullyn use my actual name for once.

  “Come on.” Cullyn yanked his arm out of my grip, and instead pulled on my arm, dragging me along.

  “You can’t just let this happen.” I didn’t raise my voice, but I tried to sound firm. “We can’t just do nothing. That we’re both feeling the same thing, that’s no coincidence, that’s…”

  Cullyn stopped abruptly in his tracks. “That’s what?” He spoke the words on a venomous tone, his almost-kindness of seconds ago vanished like snow in the sun.

  I had entered dangerous territory. Premonitions were forms of magic, after all. And if I felt it, and he felt it, then…

  Cullyn shook his head and opened the door to my cell. “Just get in. I’ll come get you in the morning.”

  As soon as I had stepped inside, Cullyn slammed the door shut behind me. The lock clicked, and I was a prisoner again.

  If he felt it, and I felt it, then it was…

  Magic.

  Magic that was, despite the Red Priests’ efforts, despite their quest for its extinction, very much alive, and very much active right here, in the middle of their very own stronghold.

  I wondered what the Red God thought about that.

  Chapter Eleven

  That night, it took forever until I fell asleep. With each passing hour, the dread growing in my stomach came more and more tangible. Like a monster, it devoured me from the inside out, until it was present in every cell of my being, in every fiber of my body.

  Then, all of the sudden, I was back in the infernal cage. Thunder raged all around me, and I was surrounded by clouds as black as the darkest night.

  Sleep had come for me after all.

  “Your magic is strong.” The abrupt sound of Veritas’ voice startled me.

  He was standing behind me, as perfect, gorgeous, and unnatural as I remembered him. Too flawless to be true, to be real.

  “Who are you? What do you know about magic?” I gestured at the runes marking his face, neck, arms, every bare part of him I could see. “Aren’t those meant to keep magic at bay?”

  Veritas chuckled. “Long before those Red Priests learned to use runes to keep magic at bay, runes were used for exact the opposite purpose. To embed lifeless objects with magic. To strengthen a magician’s powers. To think runes can only be used to block magic is an absurd train of thought.” “How do you know all this?” The first time I had dreamt about Veritas, I had been in awe of his beauty. But now, I was wary of him. Who was he? Why was he locked up? What did he want from me? And how did he know so much about magic and runes?

  Veritas shrugged. “Those Red Priests will tell you nothing. Tell me, Saleyna, have they kept you from joining their runecraft teachings already? Are they keeping things from you?”

  I stared at the floor, reluctant to answer. “Yes.” While I felt no loyalty toward the Red Priests, I certainly didn’t feel any towards this mysterious man either.

  “That’s because they’re terrified of what will happen when someone finds out the truth. That the runes they use are infinitely more powerful than the Red Priests care to acknowledge. That the magic you could wield with them…” Veritas came closer toward me, until his face was so close to mine our noses almost touched.

  I balled my hands into fists, willing myself not to step back. I couldn’t let him know that I was afraid of him.

  Veritas leaned forward and played with a string of loose hair next to my ear. “It would be magnificent,” he said, in a tone that was as seductive as it was terrifying. “Your magic is already so strong on its own. This afternoon, when you used it to pry the other acolytes’ minds, it tasted amazing. Like the most melodious symphony ever written, like the sweetest nectar ever created.”

  “You… you felt that?” My throat became as dry as sandy paper. Who was he? Or, perhaps more importantly, what was he?

  “Of course, I did,” Veritas replied. “I felt you the moment you stepped foot inside the Keep. Your magic calls to me, as mine does to you.”

  I shook my head. “Your magic doesn’t call to me.”

  He chuckled, stepping back and letting go of my hair. “Then, why are you here, Saleyna Loxley? If it’s not my magic calling to you, then what is it?”

  I could finally breathe again now he had moved away. “I don’t… Nothing is calling to me. I have no idea how I got here!”

  “That’s because it’s your magic’s doing.” Veritas smirked, the smug look of someone who knew he was right. “Your magic has a mind of its own, Saleyna. A powerful mind. It’s been locked up for so long, struggling to find a way out. Why do you think that while the other mages no longer have any access to their magic, you do? Why do you think that, even with that rune binding your magic, it’s still strong enough to probe an entire room of people and read their thoughts?”

  I didn’t want to hear it. I wasn’t ready to hear it.

  Even though somehow, I had always known the truth.

  “Because it’s wayward magic, Saleyna,” Veritas replied, looking me straight in the eyes. “The kind of magic strong enough that it could destroy continents, if only you would set it free.”

  I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat. “You mean, strong enough that if it wasn’t bound, it would kill me from the inside out.”

  Like it killed my mother.

  Veritas took my hands, shaking his head.

  I wanted to pull free from him, but his grip was too strong. Even though he was just touching me lightly, the strongest man alive wouldn’t be able to escape from that grip.

  “Not if you learn how to release it, channel it,” Veritas said while his gaze met mine. “Not if you learn how to take that wayward magic and to wield it into a weapon, powerful enough to get you everything you ever wanted. Powerful enough to reshape the world to how you’ve always wanted it.”

  I licked my lips. His words terrified me even more than his presence.

  “I can teach you,” Veritas offered. “T
each you how you can use your magic. To stop the Red Priests from harming other mages. To influence the High King so that he changes his mind about the decree banning magic. To do whatever it is you’ve always wanted to do.”

  I shook my head. “No…”

  “If you don’t let me teach you,” Veritas said, “your magic will kill you. It will fester inside your veins, too powerful to be held in your body, and it will destroy you from within.”

  As it had destroyed my mother.

  “I want to help you understand your magic, Saleyna,” Veritas said. His tone made it sound as if he really cared, but that could just be a farce. After all, he didn’t know me. And he was locked up in a cage. There had to be a reason for that.

  Then again, I was locked up in a cell, too, and the mark on my forehead was locking up my magic in an invisible prison.

  In this world, we were all prisoners in one way or another.

  I stared him up and down, seizing him up, and making my choice.

  “I’m listening.”

  THE END

  The story continues in THE WRATH OF THE RED GOD releasing later in 2021.

  About the Author

  Majanka Verstraete studied law and criminology, and now works as Legal Counsel. Ever since she learned how to read, she dreamt about writing books.

  She writes about all things supernatural, her books ranging from children’s picture books to young adult novels, all the way to new adult academy and reverse harem books.

  For more information about the author, please visit http://majankaverstraete.com

  SALEM’S WITCH

  Nine Witchy Lives

  Pepper Paris

  Copyright © 2021 Alathia Morgan writing as Pepper Paris

  Salem’s Witch

  This is a work of fiction and in no way is meant to portray actual people, names, places, events, or situations. The ideas were from the author's own imagination and any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely coincidental.