Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
S alem threw his head back to the sky in a fit of hysterics. There’d been no ignoring the jealously in his gaze. It screwed his expression up, made his laugh sound more mocking than humorous. Clearly, he didn’t believe Arwyn’s threat.
I did. And it sated the viper inside of me, as Arwyn had promised it the one thing it desired.
Salem’s death. The thought, no matter how dark it was, sounded pleasing. I knew it was wrong, deep down, but the enjoyment far outweighed anything else.
‘Is that what you want, Hector?’ Salem forced out, drool dribbling down his chin. ‘You’d rather a mutt than a man?’
I withdrew my Gift but lashed out my hand and wrapped claw-like fingers around Salem’s neck. My nails pricked his skin as Salem leaned into my touch like a starved man. Purple prints smudged across his pale neck, extract from Caym’s thistlebane grave. I dug my nails in deeper, Salem enjoying the pain, but not knowing thistlebane was now entering his bloodstream. He’d be powerless against me, the same feeling he’d used against me since the moment he stepped back into my life.
‘You were never a contender, you sick pig.’ I hissed into his face, refusing to cringe away from him. A smile crept over my face, knowing Arwyn would hear the next part. ‘I don’t fuck traitors…’
Salem paused at that, eyes narrowing on me. ‘Oh, is that so?’
‘Finish him,’ Arwyn shouted, his heavy footfalls so close I felt the earth vibrate with them.
His command was a war cry, forcing me into action.
Salem leaned in so close I felt the hot stench of his breath across my mouth. I felt the faint buzz of his Gift ache across my palm, but it was nowhere as powerful as it had been. I thanked the thistlebane smudged across my fingertips for that.
‘You have always been rightfully mine,’ Salem whispered, ‘remember what you owe?—’
My anger was a siren song. I was blinded with it. I didn’t even care for the pain in my shoulder, or the disgusting stench of Salem’s rotten breath. He was so close I could’ve snapped my teeth into his skin and torn his flesh free. ‘You’re fucking delusional.’
‘Am I?’ Salem said, eyes flickering between mine and my mouth. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
Then he struck forwards, with little effort, and dragged his rough tongue across my mouth.
Saliva coated my face, from my chin to my nose. I felt the slimy presence of Salem’s tongue even after I pushed myself back, eyes pinched closed, the floor jarring my spine as I fell to it. Beyond the darkness, Salem was laughing. The noise was feral and loud, all demanding, as I scrubbed my mouth with my sleeve, longing to remove him from me.
My mother had been the last person to kiss me. I’d vowed never to never kiss another. And then Salem had come and stolen that one thing from me. It was a violation, but more so it was like he’d been the person to clear the last part of my mother’s memory with one swipe of his greedy tongue.
Silence came so suddenly, I opened my eyes, fearful that Salem would be on me again, taking more from me. But the truth of it was far darker.
‘I did warn you,’ Arwyn said, calm as a sea after a storm.
But the true storm had only just begun. Arwyn smashed a fist into Salem’s face, shattering bone. Before my defiler could fight back, Arwyn forced his fingers into Salem’s mouth and drew out his tongue. Swiftly, he lifted the blood-slick athame up and severed the pink muscle with ease.
I couldn’t do anything but watch. Arwyn was silent, but his actions spoke a million words. The brutality of it should’ve scared me, but the effect it had on me was the complete opposite. It made me crave him more than I could say.
Arwyn was claiming me. Protecting me, just as Caym had.
He was ridding the demons from my life, without making me feel like I owed him anything. And yet I would’ve given it all to him. I knew that now.
Salem released a scream so deranged it cracked in his throat. But that sound didn’t last as Arwyn forced the severed tongue back into Salem’s mouth. Arwyn fucking fed it to him . Then Arwyn clamped Salem’s mouth closed with one large hand and held it firm.
Salem was choking. Convulsing. The whites of his eyes bulged, the skin I could see around his blood-coated mouth had turned blue. It could’ve taken seconds to end, but it felt like hours. All the while, I scrubbed at my mouth, pleading for the Salem’s taste to leave me. But long after he died in Arwyn’s arms, long after he dropped to the floor like a sack of shit, I couldn’t rid the taste of him from me.
Salem—the Hunter—Tomin’s champion, was dead .
‘I’ve got you, I’m here.’ Arwyn was before me in a blink, kneeling on the ground, steady hands checking me over. I winced as he brushed my limp, hanging arm. But the pain hardly registered as I continued to rub at my mouth. No doubt the skin was red and raw, my lips cracked from the constant scouring.
‘I can’t—get him off—me.’
Arwyn, no matter how he tried to calm me, couldn’t. I looked beyond him, to the heap of Salem’s body, his all-seeing eye fixed where I sat. Even in death, he looked like he was smiling at me, taunting me.
‘He took something sacred from you,’ Arwyn spoke my feelings of turmoil aloud. ‘But his actions cannot rid the memory of your mother. You will not give him that power.’
On and on I polished and cleaned my mouth, and yet all I could taste was the vile rot of Salem’s spit. It worried my skin, inked over my mouth like tar that wouldn’t budge. Nothing could save me. Nothing had the power to rid the evil from me.
I felt dirty. Violated. Not even fire could burn away the sin left on my mouth.
Except I was wrong. Because my greatest sin could.
‘Take it away,’ I gasped, fixing my stare on Arwyn’s bright, helpless eyes. ‘Please. I choose you. Help me.’
Arwyn didn’t need to be told twice. Nor did he request more explicit instruction as to what I wanted. There was only one thing that would take Salem’s defilement away, and that was the blessing of Arwyn’s mouth on mine. This was more than the want of a distraction.
‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ Arwyn asked, red sky billowing behind him, the maze groaning as it shifted once again, making new pathways.
‘Kiss me.’ My shout was desperate and pleading. ‘Kiss me, Arwyn.’
That was it. Arwyn stabbed the athame into the ground beside me, then took both his free hands and cupped my jaw. One after the other, his thumb brushed my top lip and then my lower lip. Even that alone was enough to wear through the remnants of Salem. And yet I still wanted more.
‘I’m undeserving of you,’ Arwyn said as he lowered his mouth to mine.
‘I’ll determine that,’ I said softly.
‘Yes,’ Arwyn said, just before his lips brushed against mine. ‘You will.’
The feeling that followed was a full body rush of euphoria. It started where his lips pressed into mine, then quickly rushed over my entire body, cleansing me of all the negative feelings I had just been captive to. I leaned into him, his cool exhale singing a song of his desire for me.
Without taking my mouth from his, I knelt up and leaned into him. My chest pressed to his chest until I felt his heartbeat. In fact, I could feel the quickening pace of his heart through the tips of his fingers, his chest, his mouth. Mine seemed to catch it, joining in tandem, until we were one.
Arwyn was careful, taking the kiss slowly. Although his eyes were closed, I kept mine open. I wanted to take in his reactions, wanted to memorise this moment. Because he was my choice.
My mouth parted, allowing enough room for my tongue to enter the fray. It pressed against Arwyn’s closed-mouth kiss. He required little encouragement to copy. Everything about him was careful and poised. As though he followed my lead out of respect, although I knew the true beast that lurked beneath. In a sense, I wanted all of him now. He could take me in the middle of this Trial and I wouldn’t stop him. But there was a peace that came from the soft kiss, the tangle of tongues and the way our heads titled to accommodate the deepening pressure of our mouths against each other.
It was everything.
He was everything.
I drew back for breath, lips tingling.
‘Better?’ Arwyn said, his expression almost nervous.
‘Much.’
‘Good. I’m glad you can find service in me.’ Arwyn said, although his expression suggested otherwise. He didn’t smile, not as I did. Instead, he looked down to his hands as though he regretted the moment.
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said, clutching my limp arm.
Arwyn pushed himself to standing, leaving me kneeling on the ground. He plucked the athame from the ground, focusing on cleaning the blade more than me. ‘We need to get out of this maze, Hector. Then we can talk more about it afterwards.’
‘About what?’ My hackles rose as I struggled to get up. ‘How is it that every time we share a moment of intimacy, you treat me like a regret afterwards? Because forgive me, Arwyn, I see through your bullshit. You act distant, but you can’t hide your true emotions from me. I can read them in the intensity of your eyes, or how whenever you touch me, it’s like you’re holding onto something that could blow away at any moment.’
‘That’s because you will,’ Arwyn snapped, regret hanging heavy in his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, steadying himself, this time refusing to break our eye contact. ‘There’s a tempest coming, Hector. One that I’ll not be able to protect you from.’
‘I can look after myself,’ I said. ‘That isn’t what I want from you.’
‘Then what do you want from me?’
I said the very same thing Arwyn had said to me. The word Salem ruined for me. But this was me taking back that power. ‘Everything.’
I’d backed him into a corner. Arwyn knew that as I used his words against him. ‘What I want, and what I deserve are two completely different things.’
‘How about I be the one to determine if you deserve me or not.’
Arwyn swallowed deep. I could see that he wrestled with a response, but instead of offering me one, his eyes fell on my arm. ‘I can help with that.’
He swept behind me, moving quickly, too quickly so I couldn’t refuse him. ‘You cannot run from this conversation forever, Arwyn.’
‘I know,’ he said. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew from his tone alone that he would be frowning. Never had I heard a grown man sound so defeated—so sad.
Before I could press further, Arwyn grasped my arm and twisted it back into place. The pain was sudden and hot, like an inferno that swept over me. But the relief was stronger. I rolled my arm back, recognising the ache but glad I could have the use of both my arms again.
He patted my back, his hand lingering on me for just a moment longer than natural. ‘There you go.’
‘What’re you so frightened of, Arwyn?’ I asked, looking back at him. It was like clutching onto straws that kept disintegrating in my grasp.
‘The truth,’ Arwyn replied, looking to the path of the maze. ‘It scares the shit out of me, if I’m honest.’
Was that what Arwyn had been running from? The maze showed our greatest fears, I knew that. But it was Salem who told me how to get out of it.
‘Face your fears,’ I said, my tone desperate and commanding. ‘That’s how we get out of here.’
Just as I said it, the swirling mist gathered into a figure in the distance. Once again, I saw my mother. She stood, gesturing for me to come to her, to join the chase once again. I fixed my eyes on her, sensing the sting of tears in my throat. My immediate urge was to run after her, but that was what the maze expected.
I had to prove I truly had the power to protect myself from my fears. That I was stronger than the maze believed, and I could prove that with action.
I looked back to Arwyn, to see that he kept watching at the path behind me. His forehead was furrowed with deep lines. I wondered what the maze showed him. The truth? What did that mean in his mind? The truth was meant to set a person free, not terrify them.
I wrapped my fingers around Arwyn’s fist, the one that grasped the athame so tightly it shook. I guided it up, holding him firm. ‘Prove you are stronger. Resist it.’
He settled his eyes on me. Arwyn looked like a broken man. ‘And what if it ruins everything?’
‘Then at least you’ll survive. That’s all that matters,’ I said.
I knew now what I had to do.
The ghost of my mother was calling to me. Her voice urging me to come to her, to continue this game I’ve spent my life a part of. But I continued ignoring her, proving I was stronger than what the maze thought. It didn’t take long for her to fade away to mist again. Behind her, where the path had ended in yet another wall, was now an open tunnel.
The end of the maze.
A way out.
But I couldn’t leave Arwyn until he was prepared to face his fears. We both were walking out of this. Even if he had to use Romy’s athame to…
Romy’s athame. That was where I recognised it.
The blood drained from my body, before my mind could comprehend why.
‘Where is she?’ I said, feeling a shiver of dread race down my spine, debilitating me.
Arwyn locked eyes with me, his sorrow deepening. He didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know who I asked about. ‘Romy’s alive.’
‘That wasn’t my question.’ I stumbled back a step, confusion racking my mind. ‘Arwyn, where is she?’
He lifted his hand out, as though he wanted to take me in his hold and keep me close. But I jolted back from his grasp, his fingers missing me by inches.
‘Safe,’ Arwyn said, ‘I promise she’s safe. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I swear it. Just like I’d never intentionally hurt you. I made a promise to spare Romy, I’d not break that.’
‘Intentionally?’ I shook my head, refusing to believe what was happening. Unsure exactly what was happening. ‘Then answer my question, Arwyn. Fucking answer me.’
There had been blood on the athame. I wouldn’t have even contemplated it belonged to Romy. Not until I saw the horror in Arwyn’s sapphire-bright eyes, and the regret etched into his face.
‘Romy failed the Trial. She’s alive and well, I swear, but I couldn’t let her continue.’
‘What the fuck does that mean, Arwyn?’ My mind ached with possibilities.
‘She knew too much. But instead of hiding the truth like I’ve been trying, you’re right, I must face it. It’s the only way out of here.’
‘What—truth?’
Lightning whipped over the crimson-clouded sky. It was a warning, an omen for doom to follow.
‘This.’ Arwyn’s word was final and damming. He lifted his shirt up so I could see his tattooed stomach, then he turned around so I could see his back. A back once covered in marks and wounds. A back that Romy had healed with the salve from Eleanor’s grimoire. I drank him in, looking over the same muscles my hands explored, the same tattoos I’d traced with my tongue and lips. Except I was wrong. Because, with a wave of his hand, Arwyn’s tattoos disappeared. The ink left his skin like smoke, revealing mostly unmarked flesh. All beside a scar worn into his lower back. A symbol I’d recognise in any time, in any life.
A cross caught in a circle. The symbol of a Witch Hunter.
‘How?’ I gasped, choosing to believe this was some new conjuration the maze was making me face.
‘Illusions,’ Arwyn’s voice cracked as he said it. Blue fire sparked across his hand, the same as I’d seen it before. But in the blink of an eye it changed. The fire rippled to ice, then to the image of a moving night sky. Scene after scene it changed, all while Arwyn’s eyes glowed like beacons. ‘My Gift suits me. Because what else should I control then the very personification of lies? There is so much I’ve lied to you about.’
‘Don’t,’ I snapped, my mind breaking down I was so overwhelmed. ‘Don’t come near me.’
My finger was shaking violently as I pointed towards him. Hell, my entire body was trembling.
‘I’m not your enemy.’
‘Then what exactly are you?’ I bellowed, splitting the blood-stained sky with my cry. Although my words held meaning, I couldn’t quite grasp it.
There was so much I wanted to say, and yet I couldn’t make another sound. Words failed me. Nothing made sense. My mind was a maelstrom, that I couldn’t grasp the reality of this moment. Because I discovered a new fear, one that outweighed any other. And I could do nothing but face it.
A bell rang across the crimson sky. The Dreading had ended. Around us, the maze walls fell, disappearing into the earth as though they never existed. And I was left to stare at the truth scarred into Arwyn’s stomach.
Arwyn feared the truth, so he faced it, and revealed it to me.
Salem wasn’t the only Hunter. He was merely a scapegoat.
Arwyn was the champion.
Arwyn was the lie.
My enemy was Arwyn.
My enemy had always been Arwyn.