Blood Tether (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #1)

1. Matilda

1

MATILDA

The plate frisbees at my head, whizzing through the air at rapid speed. I duck, feeling the breeze as it sails over my head and hits the wall directly behind me, showering my hair with bits of porcelain.

“Useless,” my mother spits out. “It’s filthy. You can’t even clean the dishes properly.”

Dad chuckles from his armchair by the fire. It’s a freezing cold night, but we aren’t allowed to have heating, magickal or otherwise. It’s just another form of punishment.

My younger sister giggles as I brush the bits of plate from my hair. She doesn’t have to worry about this kind of thing. My parents dote on her. And my older sister and brother. It’s just me.

The black sheep. The witch with wonky powers and is easy prey.

In several different senses.

“I’ll try harder,” I mutter, even though I know the plate was spotless. I make sure it is so shit like this doesn’t happen. Or happens less. I’m not an idiot. I know the score.

“Get out of my sight, worthless witch,” Mum hisses, and I scamper off, not one to argue about removing myself from their wicked presence. I don’t know what I did to make them hate me so much, but it must’ve been truly heinous. Trying not to cry, I rush up the stairs and burst into my room to find Janice standing by the window in the dark. I come up short as she turns around with an anxious smile.

“Tilly,” she says. “Are they at it again?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

She nods back once and moves forward, coming into my personal space as she whispers, “Go, Tilly. Run and don’t look back.”

“What?” I stammer, shivering in the cold and at her tone.

She gestures to a backpack on the bed. “It’s not a lot. Just what I’ve been able to gather over the last few months. Take it and head north. There is a place there called MistHallow. You will be welcomed. You can’t stay here, Tilly. It’s getting worse. I’m scared for you.”

The tears I was trying to hold back seep out. She isn’t wrong. “I can’t just leave. They will find me.”

“MistHallow will protect you. Go tonight, Tilly. Take the bag and go.”

She kisses my forehead and reaches out to grasp the necklace she gave me. A delicate silver chain with a tiny amethyst crystal pendant. She gave it to me about ten years ago for protection. I never take it off, not daring to, just in case it actually is working to some degree. It’s a theory I’m not willing to test. “Keep it on you at all times, Tilly,” she whispers. “To remember me by.”

“Janice,” I croak, but she lets the necklace go and steps back with a finger to her lips. “Be free, Tilly.”

I just stare at her like a deer in headlights.

“I’d better go downstairs and clean up the mess,” she murmurs. Then she is gone, slipping through the door and closing it quietly.

I blink and surge forward to open the backpack. I gasp when I see what’s inside. Gold and jewels stuffed to capacity in the small, cheap canvas bag.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I don’t even want to know. But this is my opportunity. She has given me the out I so desperately need, and I’m taking it. I don’t even have to think about it. I can’t. I’ve never been out on my own despite being twenty-one. But my parents have kept me shackled here, making sure I have no money, no friends, no clothes except a wash and a wear, no contact with the outside world at all. I cast a quick feather light spell on the canvas bag, needing it to work. The pink sparks flash momentarily, and I lift it to test it. “It worked,” I breathe. I move quickly then, across to the window, as I hear the sound of male laughter coming up the stairs.

My older brother, Zayne. My blood runs cold when I hear his friend, Stryker, say something, and then Zayne’s bedroom door opens and slams shut. The heavy metal music starts up instantly and thumps through the adjoining wall. I gulp as my bedroom door opens, and Stryker saunters in, closing it behind him and leaning against it.

His dark eyes rake over me, undressing me in his mind as he pushes off from the door and stalks towards me.

I back up until my feet hit the backpack on the floor by the window.

“On your knees, Tilly-girl,” he says.

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“That’s what you always say, and you always end up doing it anyway,” he says, coming closer and gripping my long, rainbow-streaked blonde hair. “Now, get on your knees.”

“N-no,” I stammer as he twists his fist in my hair.

He growls and unzips his pants with his free hand. I whimper as he tries to force me to my knees.

“No,” I say louder, but I know no one will come to my rescue.

“Little bitch,” he hisses and shoves me up against the dressing table. It crashes against the wall. Zayne must’ve heard it, but he won’t come to help me. None of them will. They all know what Stryker does to me, and they don’t care. But not tonight. Tonight I have a way out of here, and I won’t let this arsehole warlock stop me.

I cry out as he rams me into the dressing table, pressing his cock against my backside, his hand still tight in my hair. His free hand goes up my skirt, and he shoves my knickers aside.

“You don’t say no to me, little bitch. Do you hear?”

“Fuck you,” I growl as he slides his fingers over my pussy. We’re not doing this. Forcing me into a blow job is one thing; sex is a whole different thing, and I will fight with my life to protect my body from him. I jab my elbow back into his stomach and he grunts, but it’s like a gnat trying to move a mountain. I’m no match for him physically, or magickally, and he knows it.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, you like it rough do you, little bitch?” He yanks my head back and wraps his other hand around my neck, squeezing tightly. I thrash, trying to get free as he tries to get his cock inside me.

“Get off me…” I choke out, kicking back and catching him in the shin.

Stryker grunts and loosens his grip slightly as he stumbles back, and I take the chance. I can’t not take it. I bring an orb of pink magick to my hand and throw it over my shoulder with all the power behind it I can muster. It fizzles out before it even hits him.

He laughs cruelly. “Is that all you’ve got? Pathetic.”

He shoves me forward again and presses hard on my back. He kicks my feet to get me to open my legs, and I cry out again.

Come on, Tilly. You can do this. Focus.

I breathe in deeply and close my eyes. I bring another orb to my hand and infuse it with everything I’ve got. I wrench my shoulder as I slam my hand back onto his thigh, and this time, it hurts him.

“Cunt,” he snarls and flings me across the room.

I hit my head on the window, but all it does is make me even more desperate to get away. Magick crackles on my fingertips in my anger, misery, and fear. Lightning sparks, and I send it straight into his chest.

His eyes go wide before it knocks him out, surprised I had it in me.

Well, he’s not the only one. I gape at my hands, but only for a second. I don’t know how long he will be out cold, but I’m not hanging around to find out. I grab another backpack from the bottom of my wardrobe, stuffed in there years ago when I was still allowed to attend school. I fling my jeans, tee, hoodie and the other set of underwear into it. I grab my journal and a pen from under the mattress, and I turn to the window, opening it as far as it will go. I throw the two backpacks out the window and climb through when I hear them hit the ground. I can’t jump because I don’t know if I can soften my landing with magick. I could try but would probably fail and end up hurting myself worse. With my heart pounding in my ears, I edge along the windowsill until I’m almost at the drainpipe. The cold is arctic and already I’m feeling the effects of it. My fingers are numb as, with a shaky hand, I reach for the pipe.

I grasp the drainpipe; my frozen fingers are barely able to grip the cold plastic. Slowly, carefully, I swing around, stifling my exclamation of fear. Gripping it with my knees, I somehow shimmy down through the haze of fear, praying the old pipe will hold my weight. Every creak and groan sends my heart racing, but I keep going. I have to get away.

Halfway down, panic surges through me, and I lose my grip on the pipe. I slide the rest of the way down and hit the ground hard, pain shooting up my ankles, but there’s no time to recover.

I snatch up the backpacks and run, sprinting across the frosty lawn toward the road. The more distance I put between me and them before they discover I’ve gone, is crucial.

I don’t look back. I just keep running as fast as I can. My lungs burn in the frigid air, and my legs ache, but I push on.

Head north .

That’s what Janice said, but which fucking way is north? I don’t even have time to stop and figure it out. I just keep running, possibly in the wrong fucking direction, but that’s okay. As long as I’m away from that house and those people, I don’t care if I end up on the moon.

So, I push myself to run faster, tasting freedom with every step.