Hades and his Witch (Demon Gods #2)

1. Sandro

Sandro

Now

“I ’m dying. I know I am. I sensed it.”

The older woman in the red robe watched me with bright-green eyes that made me uneasy, but she didn’t say anything.

The fire blazed in the pit between us, and a heavy rumbling bounced through the walls, the sound of the train picking up speed after stopping at the Camden underground station.

“I don’t have long to live.”

She didn’t believe me.

I didn’t know what I was expecting. I’d spent my entire life trying to find a cure for my disease, but there was none.

Even my friend, who could bring the recently deceased back to life with a whisper, wasn’t able to cure me.

What could a strange old witch with a flair for stereotypes do for me?

And yet, here I was in a cave underground, waiting for a cure that didn’t exist.

Maybe I should just stay here. Spare everyone the trouble of burying me.

“That’s dark,” the witch said, and I stopped my internal monologue long enough to stare at her.

What did she mean? Could she read my thoughts?

“I do believe you, young man.”

The fire reflected in her eyes, adding a certain gravity to her words.

But as good as it may be that she believed me, the question was…

“And yes, I can help you.”

Yeah, she could definitely read my thoughts. Maybe I should be more careful.

“How? I’m sorry to be rude, but no one’s been able to help me. No one can even explain what it is I’ve got. Not even my parents.”

The witch revealed her hands, a small dagger resting in her palm.

“Your disease is old, young man. It’s so old its secrets have long been forgotten and hidden by a magic as old as time itself.”

I had no idea what that even meant.

“It means that which ails you is shrouded by mystery on purpose. To protect you.”

Nothing that came out of her mouth made any sense.

“Protect me? Protect me from who?”

“From those who wish to hurt him,” she answered, but she might as well have spoken in tongues.

“Hurt who?”

The witch didn’t reply. She got to her feet and walked over to me with the dagger wrapped in her hand, which looked sharper and sharper the closer she got.

Was I in danger here? Had my friends led me to a trap? Was this Mother Red Cap witch going to hurt me?

“Your mind might have forgotten his name, but your soul clings to him. It calls to him. It needs him. That’s why you’re sick.” She sat beside me.

I held my breath, fearing what might happen if I moved an inch. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. And how can you know what’s wrong with me if everyone else has forgotten?”

She smirked. “Because I’ve got…special abilities. I can see things other creatures can’t.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Are you ready to meet him?” She held the knife in front of me and goosebumps pricked my skin.

“Meet who?”

Mother Red Cap puckered her lips, and a small smirk appeared on her face. “Your disease…it’s rare.”

Yeah, no fucking kidding.

“Your soul is reacting to his absence. It needs him to survive. And if you’re not reunited with him, you will die.”

There it was again.

Him.

Who was him ?

“I swear to god, if you don’t start explaining, I’ll walk out of here.” I didn’t know if that was even a threat, considering it would be me who would lose if I did that.

“Your soulmate,” she said. “Your soul is missing its mate. We need to reunite them.”

My throat went dry, and I paused.

“Soulmate?”

What did my soulmate have to do with my sickness?

Most witches never found their soulmate, their familiar, their fated lover, and none of them died for it.

“That’s not the kind of soulmate reserved for you,” the witch said. “You’re not fated to a familiar.”

This whole mind-reading thing was really irritating. Hadn’t anyone told this woman it was rude to do that without permission?

“If he’s not a familiar, then what is he?”

Mother Red Cap smirked again, taking my hand in hers and holding the tip of the knife against my finger. “Do you really want to know?”

I nodded.

“Your mate is a…god. And you need your godmate to survive,” she said and pierced my skin, drawing blood.