Chapter 12
Rumor
Spade and I hurried to stand. The thunderous stomping grew louder, and the wither’s deep crimson form contrasted with the pine needles and bare branches.
This monster was enormous. Had the one I killed been as large as this one?
I could barely recall, it all happened so fast. Could I slay another?
Spade put an arm out, ushering me to stand behind him, but I refused, pushing against his hold.
“No,” I said. “I won’t hide behind you. If they’re after me for what I did, then I will face them head on. I won’t cower like some damsel in distress. I know what I did in killing one of them, and I’d do it again to protect my sister.”
Spade let out an exasperated exhale, frantically looking from me to where the wither approached. “If only you’d stayed six feet under a bit longer, I wouldn’t have to protect you from your own idiotic decisions so often.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I shoved him off of me and reached to my thigh…
realizing for the third time that day I didn’t have my dagger.
Not only did I not have my weapon, I didn’t have my protective amulets from Riot and Spade either.
The white knife and pocket watch were still in a pile of dirty clothes in my cottage.
Spade was right. I was an idiot. If I had to use magic again, this furious monster and the spider of pain in my head would surely drag me under. The amount of exertion it took just to bring down the inky black wither was extraordinary. Could I take down this one as well?
Spade positioned himself next to me, widening his stance, but casually putting his hands in his pockets.
I guessed I did have a daimon next to me.
Whatever I may try, I had no doubts Spade Blackthorne’s skill and power far exceeded my own.
However… he’d fought a wither before, the same one I’d slain, and failed.
The battle left him permanently scarred, the evidence a pale shimmer across his eye.
What if he failed against this one, too?
The monster stopped for a moment, angling its narrow head in our direction.
This wither had hooked, coal-colored horns, and it looked angry.
Or maybe that’s just how his face was. Turning, it marched towards us with purpose, knocking trees out of its way as if they were twigs.
My pulse beat in my ears and a lump of fear grew in my throat.
I was still weak after being buried.
Was my witchcraft still strong after all I’d used against my sister’s captor?
Could I even wield power as mighty as I did before without the protection of Spade and Riot’s amulets?
How horrible did it feel to be ripped apart, limb by limb, by a giant, blood-thirsty monster?
All things I wasn’t eager to find out but had a feeling I would be at any moment. As tough as my little speech was, I resisted the urge to hold onto Spade’s arm. However, like I said, I’d come this far and not succumbed to fear. I wasn’t about to die a coward.
“Are you scared?” I thought to ask on a cold and frightened whisper.
Spade gave me a sidelong glance, arching a dark eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Of course, he wasn’t afraid. Why would he be? Something like him—he interrupted my thought. The tips of his fingers gently brushed my cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The look in his eyes dark and soulful. Maybe his answer to that question was more complicated than he let on.
I hadn’t even had time to process what had just happened between us.
The closeness we shared physically without even really doing anything.
Not to mention the bizarre occurrence of me jumping into his psyche.
Did that really happen? How? Did it really happen for him, too?
Sure seemed like it did. His thoughts and emotions still lingered within me like fading tendrils of smoke from an extinguished candle flame.
The all-consuming rage churning against an overwhelming sense of loss and sadness.
That intensity embedded into such a wealth of power…
goddess… if I had to live within Spade’s mind all the time, I’d burn the world down.
Is that what Spade Blackthorne wanted? To burn the world down?
Come to think of it, didn’t I want that, too?
My rage and sorrow mirrored his. I supposed the only thing that made us different was that despite my sister’s current hatred of me, she was someplace alive, and there existed a spark of hope that our relationship could be mended.
Once the charm of the wither faded, truth would set in, and she would see the situation for what it was.
She was taken by a monster with no feelings or regard towards her.
Whatever they’d done to her had skewed her perceptions, but with time, those misguided thoughts would float away. At least, that was my hope.
The loud crack of a tree splitting in half slammed me back into reality.
The red and horned wither parted the pines as if they were flimsy curtains.
He stepped forward, his inhales and exhales audible in the way you can hear a fearcat rallying its strength before it pounced.
My mouth went dry, and despite my pride, I moved an inch closer to Spade.
The Blackthorne boy stood somehow both nonchalant with hands in his pockets, and tall, broad, and proud, encompassing both at once.
He took a step forward, not so subtly moving to block half of my body.
The wither took great offense at the advance and let out a bone chilling roar.
Birds took off from nearby trees, but one bird remained, circling overhead.
Never landed confidently on Spade’s shoulder, joining his mage proudly.
The two of them like that seemed to cloak Spade in the image of dark power. He was a formidable force and powerful in a different way than the monster before us. I wondered how many duels and battles Never and Spade had fought together, as they seemed to fall into effortless formation.
The wither stared us down, looking with pointed teeth bared between Spade and me.
“You’ve no business here,” Spade said lowly. “Go before I make an example of you. I’d have no qualms with sending a message to your pack of what happens when you break our agreement.”
The crimson wither’s lips curled back in a snarl. It seemed he understood Spade just fine, though I couldn’t fathom the monsters comprehended our words at all.
And then suddenly, I felt my magic crawl along my skin like a hundred spiders. Pricking me with each pointed step. The wither stared at me then, seemingly noticing my discomfort as my magic called to me through my bones.
Go to him. My magic said.
Go to him. The voices of the witches before me said.
Before I could argue, my feet were moving.
Spade’s voice called my name somewhere behind me, and Never croaked a deep warning sound, but my feet were still moving.
The wither stood as solid as an oak, eyeing my approach.
He could snap my neck in an instant. His claws could tear through my flesh as if it were paper.
Go to him. The sense in my bones chanted. Why was I doing this? Why was I listening? I bridged the distance between us, not knowing what to do now that I was so close I could touch him. I could feel his breath above me and the heat radiating from his massive form.
He still hadn’t killed me.
I have no idea why I did it. The spiders of magic directed my arm, urging me to lift it and extend a flat palm.
The wither looked at me cautiously.
He still hadn’t killed me.
After a pause, he reached out his hand, touching his palm to mine. His outstretched hand must have been half the size of my body, his skin like thick, worn leather.
All of a sudden, his hand disappeared—and I saw myself instead.
Looking down at myself, standing so tiny, so far below my muscular red arm.
And then it hit me—I’d jumped into the wither’s mind just as I had Spade’s…
I wanted out. I didn’t want this. Why had my magic led me here?
His mind was surely chaos and bloodshed and…
then the thoughts and emotions poured in.
A recent, clear and fresh memory stood at the forefront.
It felt intrusive to look but… he was a monster and my gifts had told me to do this, right?
Standing tall above a picturesque town, I gazed down at several women…
a dozen or more… and they were all crying.
My heart broke in my chest, and I felt such earth-shattering pain.
Other withers solemnly joined the sobbing women…
I braced for bloodshed, pain, and horror at what the monsters were likely doing to them to make them cry…
but then… several reached down, taking them into their arms and hugging them…
seemingly comforting them? It made no sense.
And then I spoke, or rather, the red wither spoke. “We have brought back Vore’s body. Though he is dead, it would seem his soul remains fixed and fighting, not moving on from this life. We will keep his body safe as his soul decides its journey.”
The women sniffled and one spoke up. “Wraith, what about Prism? Where is she? Is she harmed?”
Prism? How did they… they knew my sister?
Vore, the monster that stole her, his name was Vore, and he must have brought her here.
This… idyllic land with a rushing waterfall in the distance and…
and the withers could speak? They weren’t harming the women, and no one seemed afraid. This didn’t make any sense.