Chapter 3 Hector #2
“Arwyn will be dealt with. Believe that,” Romy said, looking down at her gloved hands. “He will face the judgement, and we will get our power back… we need to get our power back.”
My breath lodged in my throat as I read the nuance of her gaze. “Is it still not working?” I asked.
Romy shook her head. “No, and the same goes for almost half of the Coven’s members. In a matter of weeks, or days, we will be left without our Gifts. Well, all but you apparently.”
It had been three weeks ago when Romy mentioned a handful of witches reporting that their Gifts had just stopped working.
Since then, every day the number of those who suffered the same fate grew larger.
And it was only going to get worse. We both knew that it was Bahmet who offered witch-kind their Gifts, but now that he was not in the grasp or control of witches, I could only imagine that was the root cause of why our Gifts were failing.
Well, like Romy said, all but me.
I lifted a hand and rubbed at the centre of my ribs, directly where I knew the broken shard of the very demon lived. It connected me to the monster who had started all of this, so my Gift was as strong as ever. But that didn’t solve the issue at hand.
How were we to face Arwyn, and the Witch Hunters, without our Gifts? We would be powerless to stop them, and that was a problem—whether I liked the Coven or not.
“Then you keep training,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice. “Gather as many of the Coven members who are willing to fight, and teach them everything we’ve learned.”
Romy brightened at the reminder of her focus.
And I mean that literally. To demonstrate what I was suggesting, she lifted her spare hand up and held it to the side of her mug.
For a flash, her brown eyes glowed with a circlet of gold.
Heat sparked in the air and I was transported back to the Witch Hunter’s flat when I’d set him ablaze.
Except Romy’s use of our old magic was not as sinister as that.
Fire curdled between her palm and the mug until steam rose from her tea.
“I’m doing my best,” she said. “I’ve got about twenty witches who are learning the old magics again, but the rest of the Coven refuse to listen. They’d rather follow blindly in the reality of Bahmet, then turn back to the old ways.”
“Twenty is better than two,” I added. “It’s a start. A spark which should, when the rest of the Coven realise this is the only way to regain power, become an inferno. You just need to keep trying. I would help if it wouldn’t result in them locking me behind bars again.”
Still grasping onto the element of fire, Romy was able to down the hot tea until she was breathless and the mug empty.
Her throat couldn’t scald when she used the element she was most naturally connected with.
Once finished, she cracked her mug down on the side and stood.
“Then I really should get going. Now you’ve exposed that the Witch Hunters are back, I need to petition more of our numbers to go looking for them.
It’s obvious they’ve been using their time away to regroup, and I want to find out why.
I don’t like being on the back foot, and I certainly don’t like having time to think about all the fucked-up things Arwyn is doing with his new power. ”
There it was again… his name. My body shivered, reminding me of the power he still held over me.
Romy had been the sunshine to my grumpy since I met her, but since the end of the Witch Trials, it was like a cloud had passed over the sun and blocked out its light.
I got it, trust me. The trauma of being surrounded by death and danger really had taken a toll on us.
I wouldn’t speak for Romy, but I sensed we both had a burden on our shoulders.
Differing and yet the end goal was the same.
Thing was, I just worried that the burden would suffocate us before we got the chance to make a change.
More so for Romy, since she was the only one of us both who could actively make a change at the moment.
It was why I still tried to help. I couldn’t sit back and let her bow beneath the weight of responsibility. I wouldn’t.
“Romy,” I said, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. “It’s going to be alright. All of this will come to an end, because it has to. Okay?”
She regarded me, eyes searching me from head to toe. “I hope so, Hector.”
“I know so, Romy.” I released her hand, and yet it hovered there for a second. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I promise I won’t leave home today. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’m going to sleep for the majority of it.”
Her eyes flicked over towards the unspoken bag I’d brought with us. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Really sure, in fact. Although I may do some light research before I sleep.”
Light research including looking through everything I’d stolen from the Witch Hunter in hopes to find a lead on where they’d all been, and where Arwyn was hiding.
“If you get any leads, you text me immediately. Don’t get any ideas about doing anything alone again.” Romy’s gaze hardened, refusing to look anywhere but at me. “We’re a team, remember. Me and you.”
“A coven,” I corrected.
Romy turned away, visibly disgusted by the word I chose to use.
Me and Romy, and Arwyn. We had been a team.
Until he’d betrayed us, concealed Romy in an illusion to keep her away from me.
Not only that, but he’d forced her out of the competition at the last leg.
Arwyn said he’d done it to keep her safe, but I felt as though it was to ensure he was always going to win.
“We don’t need him,” I repeated, laying a hand on my heart. “Me and you, always.”
Pain, violently sharp and hot, radiated through every inch of my body. It rippled outwards from my gut where the darkness lay in wait, until my entire being was alive with it.
Romy gasped, closing in on me before I doubled over and fell off the chair. Without her steady grasp, I would’ve been cramped on the floor in complete agony. Instead, her embrace was at least enough to keep me upright.
“What is it?” Romy spluttered, panic flared in her expression. “What’s wrong?”
My fist smacked into my gut as if that would remove the feeling from me. The ache was so overwhelming it took me a few tries to get my reply out. “It’s—Bahmet—he’s coming.”
Darkness crept in at the corners of my vision, until I blinked and realised the shadows had nothing to do with my eyes or consciousness.
In fact, Romy noticed it too. She looked behind her, eyes glowing with power as our home became a void of darkness.
It rose like a wave, cresting like a mountain atop us before crashing down.
No matter the flame she conjured to keep it away, the dark swallowed all light.
Her touch was dragged away from me, her scream of my name fading into an abyss of nothingness.
The pain stopped as abruptly as it began.
I was stood in a place in between light and dark, life and death.
My breathing echoed in my ears as other sounds rose around me.
The slithering of wet bodies against hard surfaces, the scratching of nails and the wailing of unholy creatures.
And out from the shadows itself came a body, one I had memorised with my touch and my taste.
A body I craved and hated with equal measure.
“Hector,” the form exhaled as if my name was the weightiest word in the world.
Eyes as blue as the skies shone like beacons of light, guiding me forwards. I didn’t stop moving towards him, until I was face to face with the person I spent every waking hour searching for.
All that time wasted, because he’d found me first.
“Arwyn,” I growled, violence a keening song in my soul. “It’s really you?”
He didn’t need to confirm it. Even before the darkness parted away from his features, revealing the horrifying and debilitating truth of his presence, I knew it was him. We were, after all, connected in ways beyond understanding now.
“I needed to speak with you,” Arwyn started, but I was already charging through the void of dark, my fingers claws and teeth bared. There was barely a moment for him to register before our corporeal bodies clashed into one, and the battle began.