Bitter Demons

by Sarra Cannon

  “Who are you?” I asked. Panic rose up in my chest. Without that necklace, I was on my own. Aerden wouldn’t come for me this time.

  The witch narrowed her red eyes at me. Her withered face cracked as she brought her lips into a gruesome smile. Her teeth were blackened and rotting, and I could smell the decay in her breath. She was old. Much older than any human should be.

  “I am the one who should have had your throne,” she said.

  At the sound of her voice, every witch in the room grew dead silent. The anticipation in the air was dense, and the hairs on my arm stood up.

  “I am the one who has waited all these years to find you so I could finally take back what was rightfully mine.” Her voice echoed in the small ritual room.

  I wanted to close my eyes and find that this was all just some bad dream. How could I have been so stupid? Going out to the barn alone was careless. My eyes searched the room, counting. Twenty-five robed figures plus the head witch. The red-eyed crow. There was no way I could take them all, even if I did have use of my arms and legs.

  My body was positioned over the portal to the shadow world. I hovered in the air about four feet from the blue stone. The scene was eerily similar to Brooke’s initiation and the thought of what these women might want to do to me left me gasping for air.

  “When I was a young girl, about your age, a group of women came to my small town of Peachville,” the old witch said. “They knew some of us girls had special… talents. We were recruited and evaluated. Judged for our merit and our abilities. In every test, I was the top of my class. I was the one the Order of Shadows chose to lead this town as their Prima. I was to be the first one initiated and joined with the powerful demon who came through this portal.”

  The witch clapped her hands together and I jumped, feeling dizzy and frightened. “Everything was set. The choice had been made,” she said, circling me. “A week before the ceremony was to take place, your wretched, thieving ancestor found me in the woods practicing some spells from a book I’d found among the Orders things. I was a curious child. I hadn’t done anything wrong. But Clara, she ran to the women of the Order and told them what happened. Doing magic outside of training was strictly forbidden at the time, but I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I just wanted to see if I could figure out the magic.”

  The old witch leaned in close to my face, her rotting breath turned my stomach. “You have her eyes,” she said. “That same superior look that says I’m better than you. I deserve more. She deserved to pay for betraying me. I visited Clara’s room that night and cast a hex spell on her. She grew sick with a fever and nearly died. Probably would have if it hadn’t been for the healer who discovered the spell. One of the women in the Order had a gift for sniffing out hexes, and once the women learned what I had done to a fellow witch and potential member, they banished me from the training.”

  Her story sent shivers up and down my spine. She’d come here for vengeance, and in that moment, I knew she wasn’t planning to let me live. I could hear the hatred in her tone when she talked about Clara, the first Prima.

  “She stole everything from me,” she said. “And I’ve worked my entire life to get it back. I’ve built this family, this coven on my own. We’re more powerful than most witches ever dream of becoming. I took that book of dark magic and built a life around it, using soul stones to steal the power of other witches and drink it down so that I could have eternal life and unimaginable power.”

  I swallowed and my mouth felt like it was filled with sand. The witch’s story had my head all turned around. Had she really been carrying this hatred in her heart for a hundred years?

  “I searched for years to find a way to take back what should have been mine,” she said. “And eighteen years ago, I found it. An ancient spell that allows a coven to transfer the Prima blood-line from one family to another. I wanted it so badly, I could taste it.”

  She licked her cracked lips and raised her hands high in the air. Flames shot from her fingertips as she let out an angry, high-pitched scream of frustration. “I almost had it all those years ago when your mother was a young woman,” she said. “In order for the transfer to work, there must only be one living member left in the Prima blood-line. Your mother was an only child, so I arranged for the death of her parents in a car accident.”

  I thought of how Zara had said the Order suspected foul-play. I felt sick.

  “With them out of the way, I only had to sit back and wait for little Claire to take over her role as Prima. That’s when I took her, just as I took you tonight.”

  Oh god, my mother. I listened to her story, my mind racing to make sense of it all. My flesh crawled as she came close to me, putting her hands on both sides of my face.

  “Only, I never counted on you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Mommy’s little secret. Your mother got pregnant by a married man and out of shame, kept her growing belly hidden with clever glamours. When she gave birth, she sent you away, ashamed to tell anyone about her mistake. Even as she lay here, looking so much the same way you do right now, she never told anyone she’d had a baby. An heir to the line.”

  I struggled against the magic holding me down, but it was no use. I squeezed my eyes closed. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I spilled her blood on this very floor, thinking that I would finally take up my throne. When the spell didn’t work and your mother’s body lay lifeless and spent, I knew that someday I would find her heir and the Prima line would be mine. Our family would rule this town the way it was always meant to be ruled.”

  The room seemed to spin out of control. All these years, I’d wondered what happened to my mother. Now, I was living it myself. I was going to die just as she had died. Tears ran down the side of my eyes and into my hair.

  Footsteps on the stone stairs made every head in the room turn in anticipation.

  I prayed for Jackson or Zara or an army of women from the Order. Please. I didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not tonight.

  A girl in a black robe, shorter than most of the women in the room. Her hair was jet black, her skin pale. Her eyes were the purest color of blue.

  “You’re late, Mary Anne,” a woman called from the corner of the room.

  Mary Anne stood at the bottom of the stairs, her blue eyes fixed on me for a moment. I wanted to tell her to run. To get help. But then, she turned her gaze to the woman in the corner.

  “I’m sorry, mother,” she said.

  The Cup Of Blood

  My heart pounded. This was Mary Anne’s family? She was the crow I’d seen in the school and on the balcony that night, but she wasn’t the only crow. There were dozens. She’d never belonged in an orphanage or a foster home. It was all a set-up for this moment.

  “Now that all of my descendants are here, we can finally begin,” the ancient witch said. She held out her hand and a woman handed her an ornate silver cup with a red ruby encrusted on the side. The cup was tarnished. The old witch’s fingernails scratched against the metal as she gripped it tight.

  Fear gripped my chest and made it difficult for me to breathe. This couldn’t be the end. There had to be some way to fight back.

  The old witch held the cup high above her head and began to chant in an ancient language. I didn’t understand what she was saying, but I knew it couldn’t be good. My skin erupted in goosebumps.

  “Alocuskah. Migdalian. Beshka locutar singestra.” With these last words, she held up a single fingertip and pressed the sharp nail against her wrist. She cut a sharp, jagged wound into her flesh and let the blood flow into the ancient cup.

  The witch passed the cup around the room and one by one, each member of the family spilled her blood into the cup. I watched, unable to move or do anything to stop this crazy ritual. When the cup passed back to the old witch, she lifted my blue pendant high into the air, then dropped it into the blood.

  A sharp pain pierced through my heart. I cried out, and the old witch laughed. “It hurts doesn’t it?�
�� she said. “Your demon will be cut from you and it will feel like I’ve ripped your poor heart from your chest.”

  My muscles tensed, and I tried to break free. I wanted to lash out at the woman. To fight for my life. But I was bound too tight with her magic. I couldn’t feel my own power.

  She turned to the women in the room. “When the last of her blood runs into the portal, we have only moments before her spirit leaves her body. It’s at that precise moment that we must transfer the bloodline from her family to ours.”

  “Wait.” Mary Anne’s small voice rang out in the cave-like room.

  “You have wasted enough of my time,” the old woman said, her eyes flaring bright red. “Keep your mouth shut and do as I have taught you.”

  “You said we weren’t going to hurt her,” Mary Anne said. Her blue eyes were wide with panic and fear. “You told me the transfer would be painless. That it would just suck her power from her body and she would be fine.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” the old witch said. “This is not a child’s game we are playing at here. The girl must die in order for the spell to work.”

  The energy in the room shifted. I could feel the fear and anxiety in the air, thick as smoke. It was obvious the family wasn’t used to anyone speaking up to their leader. What was Mary Anne doing? Didn’t she see the hopelessness in this situation? There were too many to fight. They were too powerful.

  “I won’t do it,” Mary Anne said, her voice trembling.

  “Nonsense,” the old witch shouted. “The entire bloodline must participate in order to create the transfer.”

  “I can’t let you kill her,” Mary Anne said. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her lip trembled, but she stood her ground. She was risking everything to save my life. A small flame of hope ignited somewhere deep inside of me.

  I closed my eyes and tried to focus my power. I let all of the images fall away from my thoughts and concentrated only on a single blue butterfly. A drop of power trickled through my veins.

  “You must participate,” Mary Anne’s mother said, stepping forward from her spot in the far corner. “I know it’s difficult to make such a sacrifice, but it’s the only way.”

  “Mother, I can’t,” she said.

  “Participate in the ritual, or I will see you dead, purged from the bloodline,” the old witch said. “This moment will not be stolen from me again.”

  Mary Anne held her hands out beside her body, a blue energy radiating from them. “I’ve seen enough death in this town to last a lifetime,” she said through her tears. Her hands were shaking. “And I don’t want to become a murderer.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed in and out slowly. I pushed the room from my mind and concentrated only on my own inner power. The butterfly danced in the blackness, and I felt stronger.

  “Alexandria, don’t hurt her,” Mary Anne’s mother said. “Please. She’s my only daughter. Let me talk to her.”

  The old witch turned at the sound of the name. “From this day on, you will never call me Alexandria again,” she said. Her eyes blazed and her fingertips flared with heat. “Today, I become the Prima.”

  The old witch shifted into crow form and swooped toward Mary Anne, liquid fire streaming from her beak.

  Mary Anne screamed and jumped away, the bottom of her robe bursting into flame. She frantically pulled the robe from her body and stood, blue energy shining from her hands. She raised her hands toward the flying crow and released a ray of energy, but the crow swerved.

  The old woman’s cackle filled the room as she landed in the corner and switched back to her original form. I seized the moment of chaos and focused all of my thoughts on the ancient cup left unguarded on the stone altar. My power was so weak, turning the cup on its side was like trying to lift a van off the ground with my bare hands.

  I focused my energy into as bright a butterfly as I could imagine, letting my body fill with the vibrations of my power. The cup tumbled over with a clang. Red blood from every member of the family spilled down the stone altar and onto the floor of the ritual room.

  The old witch shrieked in anger as my necklace slid from the cup and landed in a bloody heap on the floor.

  Power surged through me. I took control of my own body, breaking the spell that held me suspended in the air. I fell hard to the floor, my back against the cold sapphire that held the closed portal. I disappeared and scrambled across the floor.

  “Block the doors,” one witch called out.

  Another witch surged forward, reaching out to grab me, but with my invisibility glamour up, she couldn’t see me.

  “Find the girl,” someone else said. “She’s gone.”

  I dodged hurried footsteps and thought only of the necklace. With Aerden’s help, I might survive. My fingers closed around the silver chain of my necklace. It appeared to float through the air as I clasped the necklace around my neck.

  “There!” Someone shouted, spotting the necklace.

  A bright blue flash of light passed through the air. I ducked, but the edge of the light slid across my skin. My body turned ice cold, and I froze in place, unable to scream or move or even blink an eye. I became visible and stood like an ice sculpture in the center of the ritual room. The witches circled me like vultures.

  Somewhere up above, the ground rumbled. I could feel my connection to Aerden strengthen as he emerged from the marble statue. All eyes turned to the entrance as a dark, swirling shadow swooped down the stone steps.

  Aerden!

  My heart rose up high in my chest. I summoned the core of my power and thawed the ice around my form, breaking free and sending shards of ice flying. Witches screamed. Some cowered in the corner, while others stood to face the powerful demon.

  One tall witch shot a green burst of energy at Aerden. He easily dodged and the bolt of green light hit the stone wall behind him and exploded in a burst of goo that oozed to the floor.

  “Don’t kill them,” the old witch said. “Try to contain the demon and get the necklace from the girl.”

  Five witches circled the demon, trapping him in the corner closest to the door. I could feel his confidence and anger coursing through my own heart. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my pulse hammered. Could we survive this?

  I reached deep inside of myself and conjured a storm, feeding off Aerden’s presence. Lightning shot through the room and rain began to fall in heavy, pelting sheets. All of the candles went out, drenching the room in darkness.

  That’s when the screams began. Aerden morphed into slippery shadows in the pitch darkness. Bursts of light shot forth as witches tried to defend themselves, but shadowy claws ripped through the black room, sending witches to the floor, sliced and bleeding

  I felt a small hand grab my own and pull me toward the doorway. At first, I fought against them, trying to pull away, but then I saw the blue of Mary Anne’s clear eyes in a flash of light. I followed her toward the stairs as the screams rang out behind us.

  Together, we ran up the stone stairs, but just as the night sky came into view, a large crow swooped in front of us.

  The old witch hovered in the doorway, her red eyes fierce with power. She shifted back to human form, then created a giant wall of flames, blocking any hope of going through. I lifted my hands to shield myself from the heat. She started down the stairs toward us and we both backed down.

  Bodies littered the floor behind us. One witch tried to crawl across our path, then collapsed, hand outstretched.

  The old witch lifted her hand in the air and Mary Anne’s feet left the ground. She rose up, her boots kicking the air. Mary Anne’s hands went around her neck as if she were being choked. Her face turned red and she opened her mouth, struggling for air. I lunged toward her, trying to pull her down, but the old witch used her other hand to throw up a wall of fire in my way.

  Through the flames, I saw Mary Anne’s legs go still. Her body limp. She fell to the ground like a ragdoll.

  Then, the witch turned her blazing eyes on me.

&
nbsp; A Coven Of Crows

  The rain pouring inside the ritual room quickly doused the witch’s flames, and I tried to run into the darkness. She lifted her hands and I felt my throat constrict. I reached out for something to hold onto, but caught only air. I struggled for breath as my body lifted high into the air. She twisted me around to face her.

  I battled to find my focus, but my lungs burned and I couldn’t concentrate. Rain fell across my skin in cold, hard pellets. The old witch stepped toward me. Her hand reached out for me, her index finger stretching toward my necklace. She meant to take it from me. To sever my connection to Aerden. I was helpless to stop her.

  A flash of blue light illuminated the darkness, slicing through the witch’s finger, severing it from the rest of her hand. Her fingertip fell to the ground and the witch screamed.

  I fell hard to the ground, gasping for breath as her attention turned to the source of the attack. Mary Anne sat up, her hand outstretched, blue light pulsing from her palm. The witch’s face contorted into a mask of pure evil. She brought her palms together and swirled them around, gathering a giant ball of red hot fire in her hands. She reared back and threw the ball at Mary Anne.

  The red light streaked across the room.

  “No!” I screamed. I lifted my hand into the air on instinct, gripping the fireball with my mind. It stopped inches short of Mary Anne’s face and she scrambled backward.

  Realizing I had control of the fire, I quickly threw it back toward the old witch, catching her by surprise. Her robes burst into flame and she thrashed about. With a scream, she fell to the floor and curled into a little ball, her skin charred. Her body trembled slightly, then went still.

  I ran over to Mary Anne and put her arm around my shoulder. “Can you stand up?”

  “I can try,” she said.

  I helped her get onto her feet and I helped her to the top of the stairs. The flames that blocked the entrance were only smoldering now as rain began to fall from the sky.