Chapter 2 Arwyn #2
Tomin paused, eyes narrowing up at me. “Tomorrow is going ahead whether you are ready or not. Our numbers are great enough that we will cause the disturbance required. And once we are successful, those numbers will swell with new recruits. The world is watching us, Arwyn. All eyes will finally be opened to the truth, and it will be the first stone that falls before the avalanche of ruin follows. They may have the power today, but tomorrow that power will be seen for what it is. Trusting you will not affect the outcome of what is going ahead.”
My fists clenched tight at my sides. Father noticed, looking down in amusement which quickly faded when he saw the blood across my unmarked skin. Snatching my hand up, his touch stole the breath in my throat. I almost choked.
He hadn’t touched me in a long time—a very long time.
“What have you done to yourself?” Tomin asked, voice as deep and dark as an ancient lake.
There was no point in lying. “I punched a mirror. Nothing an order from Ikea can’t fix.”
Tomin practically threw my hand down as if he finally realised what he was doing and was repulsed. “You hold a potential of power at the tips of your fingers. If you want to fix what is broken, then use it.”
With that, Father turned on his heel and moved directly for the door.
I got a good look at the guards positioned outside, two middle-aged Hunters whose hands rested on the butts of large guns.
As my father left, the first door to close was the steel gate and lock.
My actual bedroom door would be the last thing to close, considering it was only there as an illusion that this place was actually a bedroom and not a prison I’d been kept in for years.
“Father,” I called out as the gates closed, and one of the guards slipped a large key into it, locking me away.
“Perhaps if you tell me of your plans tomorrow, it will make using Bahmet easier? If I know what I’m required for, then knowing what I need from the demon will be less of a war, and more of a collaboration.
Otherwise, you can continue to keep me in the dark and I won’t know what I’m grasping for. ”
Tomin paused at that, unknowing that he’d just stepped into a web of my own making.
My father, ever the fool, thought my inability to call upon Bahmet was because I was not worthy, or weak, or far too pathetic to harness such a power.
When the truth was, I was burying the demon with the same poison Hector’s mother had used on herself.
He thought that keeping me locked in this room was actually keeping me in the room.
There was so much he didn’t know about me and my capabilities, and my control of Bahmet was barely scraping the surface.
“If you had proved yourself to me as useful by now, then maybe you would be a part of my council and know of our plans.”
I scoffed at the excuse. “And that still leaves me in the dark.”
Father took me in at a distance, looking through the bars of my prison door as he saw his adult son in a room for a child, out of place like a thorn wedged into soft skin. I prepared myself to be told nothing of merit, but when he opened his mouth the words that followed surprised me.
“Tomorrow is a summit of England’s leaders.
The prime minister and his cabinet will be travelling to Buckingham Palace to meet with the royal family.
But unfortunately, they will not make it to the golden gates.
As the world watches on, I will finally shed light on the monstrous truth of witchcraft.
Many innocent people will die, even more witches if we are successful, but their deaths will save many more innocent lives in the future.
Don’t worry, my son, I will make sure a TV is brought into your room so you can watch.
Perhaps seeing the success of your first act using Bahmet will inspire even more success from you. ”
I closed the space between me and the gate so quickly, even my father jolted backwards. The Witch Hunters reacted, lifting guns and pointing barrels at me.
“What have you done, Father?” I shouted, no control over my reaction.
He smiled, a wide, cat-like grin that split his ugly face in two parts.
“It has nothing to do with what I have done, but what you have achieved. Our little experiments will get their first chance to prove themselves tomorrow, and I hope that they come back to us victorious. Maybe seeing what we can achieve with Bahmet will finally motivate you to use the demon again.”
Every inhale scorched my throat, the pressure expanding in my lungs until I was sure they were going to explode.
All I could think about was Hector. Where he was and if he was safe.
I could see the desire for violence in my father’s eyes because, once again, he had come alive as if the mention of tomorrow’s plan was the only thing keeping his heart beating.
“Acting against witch-kind before I gain control of Bahmet will only lead to the downfall of your plans. Surely you can see that? If we go against the witches, we will not be prepared to face their retaliation.”
Tomin threw his head back and laughed. The sound was agonising and sick, like hyenas unleashed upon a carcass of meat, delighting in the feast they were about to enjoy. “Dear, dear, Arwyn. We’re not going to need to worry about the witches. As of tomorrow they shall destroy themselves.”
“You seem confident.”
Tomin nodded once. “I am. Regardless if you can use Bahmet or not, I’m under good authority that the witches, since the end of the Witch Trials, have begun losing their grips on their Gifts.
Without Bahmet being manipulated by their Grand High, all connections to his given powers are fading.
The Coven is in chaos, leaderless and broken, they are far too distracted with themselves to even expect us.
Don’t worry yourself with anything but mastering that demon. And do it soon, Arwyn.”
“Why?” I asked, wanting to grip the bars, tear them from their hinges and get to my father. “If me simply hosting Bahmet is enough to make the witches powerless, then what is the need for me to master the very demonic power that our kind have hunted for thousands of years?”
I delighted in the very moment my words hit their mark. Father could not deny that what he wanted me to do went directly against everything the Witch Hunters’ codex taught. We were trained to remove demons from the world, and here we were now trying to harness the Prince of them for our own gain.
“Because a storm is coming,” my father replied, “and we must be ready to ride on the winds to our victory.”
It took great effort not to claw at my skin and rid myself of the feeling his promise had laid upon me. Before I could utter another word, my father left. One of my guards, without taking their distrusting eyes off me, reached for my bedroom door through the bars of my prison, and closed it.
Once again, I was shut away, left to drown in my thoughts.
Except there was no time now. Barely seconds had passed since they left me and I was already running. Not that there was far to go. Beneath my bed was a flask of dark brown whiskey. I snatched it, practically tearing the cap off the bottle before taking a long drink.
It was not that I needed to get drunk and bury everything that had just been revealed. No. I needed to get the thistlebane out of my system, immediately. Without access to Bahmet and his Gifts, I had no way of contacting Hector Briar.
The last time we spoke was at the end of the Witch Trials after he drove an athame into my chest and then begged a demon to resurrect me.
I’d contemplated reaching out to him before, just as Bahmet whispered into my inner ear, telling me I had the possibility to do so if only I harnessed him—accepted him.
But nothing was as burning as my need to warn Hector about the threat that my father had revealed.
I had to tell Hector about the plans. Whether he believed me or not. I couldn’t sit by and allow Hector to be under threat.
Why? Because I needed Hector alive, considering he was the only person alive with the power to destroy Bahmet, once and for all.