by Mila Young
My flesh rippled into goosebumps, and I glanced behind me. The street lay abandoned. No shadow following me.
Do this fast.
“You don’t say.” I marched down a rocky path across the yard toward the porch. The stairs creaked beneath my steps, and I knocked, praying I hadn’t made a mistake and picked the wrong house. I really didn’t need to upset a witch tonight.
I took another glance around, but there was no sign of my pursuer.
When the door groaned open, I spun to face Vanore, the witch I’d met in Darkwoods who’d promised to help and whose smile now offered me hope. I breathed a sigh of relief. Her expression morphed into one of pity, but I didn’t care. If that made her want to aid me, then yep, she could feel sorry for me until the cows came home.
The swirled tattoos across her cheeks and brow creased when she smiled again, revealing two golden canine teeth. Her skin was deeply sun-kissed and her eyes were as dark as tar, matching her dreadlocks. She gripped the waist of her mauve dress, her sleeves long and ruffled.
“Ey, Elliana girl, thought you’d break our arrangement.” She spoke with a burr where the letter ‘r’ trilled each time she pronounced it. She reached out, taking my elbow, her grip iron strong. “Let’s get inside.” She stared at something behind me. “Nothing good comes of lingering in doorways.”
When I turned to look behind, she dragged me into her home and slammed the door shut. I should have panicked, but I was desperate, ready to trust anyone who offered salvation. And in the grander scheme of things, I’d take my chances with the witch with a softness in her eyes.
A strong smell of spices and burnt wood permeated the air. To my right lay a battered brown sofa in the sitting room. Jars of various herbs and a large bowl brimming with white and black feathers sat on the coffee table. Curtains with holes covered the windows and only one remained open with the single candle on the sill. More candles littered the fireplace mantle, though I doubted it ever got cold enough in Tritonia to require a fire.
“Nice place.” My gaze settled on the dead crow on the floor near the foot of the table, its legs in the air. It was bigger than my foot. Was it dinner or for a concoction or some good luck charm?
“Me mama left the home to me, and her mama to her. Been in the family for five generations, and now this place is mine.” Her voice deepened, and I turned to find her rummaging through a tall wicker basket for dirty laundry, but I somehow suspected she used it for other purposes.
“No man getting their stinking hands on me home neither!” She snarled the word man, and I figured she had unresolved issues. But that wasn’t my problem because I hadn’t met any men in years, beyond what I remembered as a child about my dad and the people he’d visit to make his deals. He was a grand thief, renowned for his abilities in Darkwoods realm. I’d never known my mother, and he’d refused to speak about her. But Dad would take me on every heist, using me as his excuse for trespassing on anyone’s property if anyone caught him. I would fake-cry so people would think he was settling an upset young kid who had wandered onto their property. But most of the scum he’d dealt with would rip him off when it came to payment. That was a lifetime away now because when I’d been eight years of age, he’d made the grave mistake of stealing from a witch, and my life had changed forever. He had paid with his life, and I was thrown into the tower and kept in there by the stone guardian. And not a day went by when I didn’t think about the day when I would hunt the witch down and make her pay.
Vanore made a clicking sound with her tongue, and I refocused on her.
“Most men are bastards,” I added to fill the silence.
“Ey, you right there. They decide with their dick first, then the consequences of what they did comes later.” She glanced over. “How old are you? Fourteen or fifteen? Old enough to hear such talk.” Diving back into the wicker basket, she sighed.
“I’m sixteen.” Most days I felt like a child who had no clue about life beyond the things I read in books, but now I was enjoying Vanore’s company and her interacting with me as if I were normal. “Sounds as if you’ve met some bad men.” I strolled over to the cabinet and studied the array of tattered books stacked on top of each other. Most had missing spines or covers, but the ones still bound had titles like Magic for Sailors, Controlling the Elements, or Herbs and Aches.
“They have a split tongue and make better companions as cats.” She sniggered, and I recalled the animals outside. Had they once been men who’d cheated on a witch? Poor men, but they’d deserved what they’d gotten if they’d thought swindling a witch was ever a smart move. My thoughts flew back to my father. Stealing from a witch was the worst mistake of his life. Never lie to magical folk. That encounter had led to me getting locked up in a tower.
Get a move on. Remember what’s coming for you.
“Shhh. Don’t scare Vanore,” I whispered under my breath. “She’s about to give us a goddamn remedy to all our problems.”
“Found it!” she bellowed, and I flinched.
“Come ’ere, girl. Stop talking to yourself or they’ll call you crazy.”
The strap of my bag slid down my arm as I ambled toward Vanore. “Who’ll call me crazy?”
“People.” She frowned, as if I were indeed a child who didn’t understand the basics. “They ain’t understanding different and will judge.”
I stiffened. Was I different? Sure, I hadn’t lived amongst the community for years, but I was just like them.
You are different. Don’t kid yourself.
I shook my head. “I’m the same.”
“Concentrate, girl.” The witch grasped my hand and placed a soft pouch in my palm.
I drove away the thoughts, the ones that sometimes had a mind of their own, and focused on the bundle. Black fabric wrapped around a small parcel.
“Put that in your pocket.”
And I did.
“Now, we made a deal.” Her words darkened, her brow hooding over the tops of her eyes. “I gave you magic ingredients to smite the gargoyle for ten thousand gold coins.” She swung her arm out from behind her back with such speed, I didn’t see the knife she grabbed until the edge bit across my thumb.
“Ouch.” I wrenched my arm back.
But Vanore held on tight and pressed my thumb to her mouth, sticking it into her mouth and sucking on my blood.
My brain seized up at what was happening, and my free hand flew to my knife.
Her tongue rolled over my flesh, and I withdrew my arm hard, my finger popping out of her mouth. I stared at the bloody cut. “What is wrong with you? Who does that?” Panic curled deep in my gut. “T-This wasn’t part of the deal.”
I retreated until my legs hit the side to the sofa, and I gripped the knife still on my belt. What could I do? Stab her before she gave me a solution to finish the guardian?
She laughed and licked a drop of crimson from her lips. “Need to track you for me payment. And child, whoever put that spell on you was serious. It’s tangled with your soul, girl. Ain’t something anyone can remove but the caster.”
My breaths froze in my chest and it took several tries to find them again. “You can sense the type of spell it is? Who did it?” I flirted with the idea of this being my salvation. A way to rid myself of the hex. A smile played at the corners of my lips as a weight lifted off my shoulders.
I turned sideways and wriggled the bag on my back, holding up my long hair with one hand. “Stupid strands won’t stop growing, and I can’t cut them. Trust me; I tried everything, even fire. So please tell me everything you know to break the curse.” The pleading in my voice made me cringe.
A flicker of hope sprung through me, and I reached out, my fingers extended for her arm. I clutched on to her as if my life depended on it.
“Elliana, me child.” She clasped my wrist the way my dad used to hold on to my hands when I got scared each time we went out on a heist. But the witch’s eyes carried sorrow, and it left me breathless.
“I ain’t got such insight—only t
hat there’s darkness in your blood, the magic prickling me tongue, and its connection to your soul. Whoever did this to you had no intention of ever releasing you. I’m sorry. All I can do is help you with the stone guard and a temporary solution to your hair problems. Pray to the Goddess that my incantation frees you, and the witch responsible will leave you alone, but magic lays inside you. And since I don’t understand its purpose, I can’t assist you without endangering your life.”
My legs refused to hold me as I sank onto the couch.
You have no time to get soft. Get up.
My insides stung at hearing the absoluteness of my predicament. What if this spell notified the witch who’d cursed me? Would she return and lock me up again if I destroyed the gargoyle?
“Sorry, child. But your best bet is to find who cast this spell on you.”
I nodded and climbed to my feet. This wasn’t the time to fall apart.
“Now, as part of our bargain,” the witch continued, “I’ll take payment in ten installments as we agreed and I will come to you every full moon to collect. If you fail to pay, I will slit the veins on your arms and use the blood to warm me rum. Death won’t allow you to escape.” She smiled her toothy grin and gone was the sympathy. Just like everyone my dad had dealt with, Vanore was in this for herself. I was a means to getting what she wanted. Nothing more.
I gasped but summoned my courage and lifted my chin. “Deal. Now tell me how to activate the herbs you gave me.”
“Good girl. First”—she counted on her fingers—“you must find an animal for the spell.”
I stiffened. “I’m not killing an animal.”
“Hush, girl.” She waved a hand between us as if I were a pesky gnat. “No killing required. Just do as I say. Second, best you do the incantation outdoors beneath the moon.”
“Okay, well, can I do it now? I saw a few cats outside.”
“No.” Her voice rose. “This must be done where your guard lives, as the magic on you both will be strongest there. Soak the herbs I gave you in water for you and the animal to use together. But first, let the concoction sit in the moonlight for a short while, then—”
A sudden crashing explosion detonated behind me, shards of wood pinging against my back and legs.
I shuddered on the spot, both the witch and me twisting toward the entrance in unison. The smashed door lay scattered around our feet.
The gargoyle stood there. My prison guard.
A strangled cry pressed on my throat and my feet glued to the rug.
His shoulders pushed past the edges of the doorway. Three long strides and he marched into the room.
He found you. Run. Run. Run.
“Bloody hell!” Vanore stammered.
Dread coiled in my chest and clung to my ribs. I dragged Vanore backward by a hand through the house. “The spell. What’re the words?” I couldn’t pull my gaze from the gargoyle made of rock, standing still for those few moments as if he had frozen in place. Stones the size of my palm covered his body, allowing his movement. His head was a boulder with empty eyes, a hooked nose, and buckled mouth. Oversized ears unnaturally pivoted, listening for anyone sneaking up on him. He stared down at me in the dim light with a sadistic grin, as if any second now the hatred in his expression would burst forth.
“Plague seize you,” Vanore called out as she tossed a handful of powder from her pocket at the guard. The contents sparked and bounced against him, but he didn’t budge.
“Run, child!” She nudged me toward the back of the house.
I stumbled into the kitchen, gasping. “Vanore, what’s the rest of the spell?”
But she didn’t answer me and hissed at the monster, “Devil take you!”
The guardian charged and shoved a hand against Vanore’s chest. She flew across the room and slammed into the wall, her breaths gushing out with a grunt. Powerful and final. Being hit by the side of a mountain wasn’t something one got up from. Vanore slumped to the ground in a heap and didn’t move.
“Vanore!” My body wracked with shivers. I ought to have dragged her to her feet, make sure she was all right. But the gargoyle now faced me, and it made more sense to lead him away from her so he wouldn’t hurt her further.
My heart hit the back of my throat, and I whipped around, sprinting across the kitchen and ripping open the back door. Panic snaked over my skin.
Outside, the hot wind buffeted into me. Without a thought, I swung left and dashed past the house and onto the road, dread chewing on my confidence.
Told ya. Told ya. He’ll punish you.
Numbness took hold of my thoughts, and I ran, crossing the dirt road.
Pounding footfalls closed in on me, but I didn’t dare to look back.
Icy daggers stabbed my heart.
He grabbed my bag with such force, I was hurled backward, hitting the ground with my ass. He ripped the bag off my arms. My hair burst free from the bag and splayed around me, swallowing me in its golden threads.
But when the gargoyle towered over me, I cried out and dragged myself away, picturing my punishment and how I’d failed. Was Vanore dead because of me? I choked on my hitched inhale.
His wings unfurled from his back, the sound of crushing stones grating in my ears. Magic had this creature flying with stone wings when it shouldn’t be able to. They snapped out wide and lengthened to six feet on each side, blotting out the moonlight. Claw-like daggers tipped the ends of the bat-like wings.
“Please don’t do this. Stop!” I backpedaled farther.
He stormed after me, his clawed hands seizing my ankles, his nails piercing into my skin.
I yelled out in agony, grabbing the dagger from my belt, and stabbing it into a crevice between two stones in the center of his chest. The knife met resistance. I shoved it in there with two hands, hearing a satisfying squish as the blade sank deep enough to make the gargoyle hiss.
He knocked my arms aside, and the sting lanced across my hands as he plucked the weapon free before hurling it into Vanore’s yard. There wasn’t any blood. The wound hadn’t even slowed him down.
A rush of air beat into me as we lifted off the ground, him dragging me upward, legs first.
My world swayed upside down. Dread swam in my stomach. Below, the town remained silent without a single person coming to my rescue. Would someone check on Vanore?
You’ve done it now. Yes, you’re in fucked-up shit here.
I blocked out the words as we coasted over forests and rivers and towns in Tritonia. The wind colliding into me had me swaying back and forth with each flap of the monster’s wings. Every inch of me throbbed with terror. Part of me had hoped I could cast the spell at Vanore’s house and then be free. But that was me being idiotic—to think anything could go well for a change.
Tears blurred my vision. They ran up and over my brow and into my hair. I’d spent the last eight years alone, and it was killing me every day just a little more, erasing my inner light with shadows of darkness. The rest of the world went on while I remained frozen in time, my life drifting away. I didn’t worry about where I’d end up in the afterlife, because I already lived in Hell.
Dizziness captured my head and everything faded.
Branches slapped my face, and I woke startled. I must have been upside down for a while. Now we flew over treetops and up ahead, I spotted my prison. A circular tower stood erect amid the rubble of destroyed ruins.
I writhed, needing to escape. I didn’t want to go back there. The structure with a wide-brimmed flat roof soared over most of trees circling the open land. Moonlight lit the moss clinging to the sides of the stone walls. Woodland surrounded the open area like a great army watching my demise.
I wriggled in his grip for escape. We sailed toward the oversized window. The only way in and out of the tower. He tossed me through the window as if I were a rag doll.
I slammed into a wall and crumpled to the ground, groaning from the sharpness zapping over my spine.
A shadow fell over the window. The gargoyle hovered th
ere, not a sound, as if proud of his catch.
But the moment his wings snapped flat against his sides and he hopped inside, I screamed. “Please no! I promise not to leave again.”
In his hand he carried a branch, and when he whipped it across my legs, I bellowed from the acidic sting. He never used his hands because stone would kill me, but breaking me was allowed. Permitted. Endlessly encouraged.
He snatched my leg and hurled me to the other side of the room. I crashed into my table and fell down, the table’s legs snapping under my weight. I sobbed. The pain was a spider web, spreading over me, intricately and viciously.
When the branch connected with my back, I yelled and arched. I couldn’t think beyond the agonizing strikes ripping me to shreds.
CHAPTER TWO
I lay on my back in a pool of my blood. A silvery hue stretched through the darkness inside the tower. My breaths wheezed with each exhale. My mouth tasted as if I’d been sucking on coins. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. I sobbed loudly, loathing how many times I’d been here: useless, defeated, trapped.
This wasn’t how the night should have gone. Every inch of me screamed from the sharp ache in my cuts, and I couldn’t even wriggle the toes on my left leg. What bones had the bastard broken this time? Desperation clung to me, the kind that pleaded for the end to come. I shut my eyes and lay there, letting my spinning head claim my thoughts.
I started to wake, as a light breeze brushed my cheek, my eyes flipping open to sunlight. Morning already? I pushed myself to a sitting position and it felt like my skin was splitting with each movement. Dried blood layered my arms while my foot lay at a weird angle. I hiccupped a breath as I reached over to move it. Excruciating pain sliced through me, stabbing the arch of my foot and racing up my leg. I cried out, curling in on myself, hating that the wound would take months to heal, hating the monster who gave no shit, and I was pissed with the universe for sending no one to help.
My dad had taught me to be quick with my hands, to steal the shirt off a person’s back without them noticing. I might have been young, yet he’d said I was the best. But when I’d turned eight, a lunatic man under the witch’s instructions had killed him, and my world had ended. I’d never forget him, or his wild, white hair and eyebrows. After that, the witch with purple irises, had shoved me into the tower, and she’d set the devil perched on the roof to watch me, wait for me to escape so he could beat the shit out of me. I was paying for my dad’s sins, but the price was too high. I dreamed of having friends, settling down in a real home, and once and for all, eradicating the gargoyle. But they were fantasies.
