Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
The witch and I faced each other in a dare of who would make the first move. I could run away in search of the rabbit hole or some other exit to my reality, or I could run toward the witch.
I chose the latter. She still held my book, after all.
I grabbed her hand, prying it open to release my book. The sleeve of her cloak had rolled up, and I ended up touching her bare hand.
A static zap of energy ran through my arm and then my entire body as some kind of metaphysical connection established between me and the witch.
Out of nowhere, loud thunder echoed around the trees.
The witch must have felt the same because her lips parted, and her eyes widened.
One moment, I faced the woman, and the next, I found myself in the middle of a dark, old town square. The only light came from the dancing flames of a fire pit.
I stumbled back as I took in my strange surroundings. Did I get transported somewhere when I touched the witch? What was this place?
My stomach knotted at the sight nearby. A screaming woman stood tied to a thick wooden pole, her hands behind her back. Burning twigs and logs surrounded her. The flames grew bigger and reached the woman’s bare feet. Her screams boomed louder over the crackling and snapping of the wood.
Dark shadows cast by the fire played over her face, where the wrinkles deepened on her skin from her pained expression.
The middle-aged woman was covered in a worn-out dress—a tunic that looked like someone had cut a hole in the center for the neck and sewed two pieces of fabric at the shoulders.
The wool material at the bottom caught on fire and burned her dress to the knees.
The intense heat licked at her feet, tormenting her. She thrashed against the stake, her long black hair hanging in disheveled tangles.
The first whiffs of the acrid scent of burning flesh hit my nostrils. The back of my throat constricted and burned with an acidic taste.
The woman’s desperate cries for mercy pierced the thick air, pleading for help. But no person emerged to save her, leaving her to face her torment alone, abandoned by humanity.
The woman’s anguished cries made my heart clench. How could I help the woman to get her down from the stake?
I lifted my hand to rub the achy spot over my heart when I realized I held The Grimoire Book of Athame with my other hand. Had I entered the witch’s memory?
The sight unsettled me, and this haunting town was not like any I’d known.
The town appeared as if it was from a different century.
There were no cars or even telephone booths on the streets.
Cobblestone pathways separated the surrounding simple wooden buildings.
Narrow alleyways branched away from the main square.
Warm light spilled from rusty lanterns hanging on the walls.
I shook my head—no time to figure this out now—and darted my gaze around the night to find a way to help the woman at the stake.
A small crowd gathered around, but the people didn’t notice me. Their faces held so much hatred, scrunched in disgust as they watched the woman burn alive. Some yelled, “Burn, witch,” and others spat at the scorching pit of hell.
No one moved a finger to help her.
The woman burned for being accused of witchcraft.
When witches were prosecuted in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the authorities didn’t distinguish between dark and light witches or real witches and human women or men.
Anyone accused or suspected of possessing the powers to practice magic was judged.
Was this woman a real witch, then? The number of people burned or hanged increased as people were questioned and tortured. They named friends and neighbors, whoever they wanted to implicate as a witch.
Her pain, inflicted upon someone deemed different, was my pain. Not physically, but emotionally. I, too, felt different, not conforming entirely to the human or the supernatural world.
In the distance, away from the rowdy crowd, two women stood alone on the narrow street.
Both wore faded black cloaks. The one with the hood down was the witch from my dream realm, but the other woman with the hood around her face looked unfamiliar to me.
Her long brown hair hung loose on her chest, and her body shook with sobs.
These women held hands. The moonlight illuminated the silent tears on the witch’s face. She looked younger than when I met her in my dream realm. Her face didn’t have the tattoos and was void of any makeup.
Suddenly, my name boomed in the air, making the windows of the short buildings around rattle. The older version of the witch—as I knew her from my dream realm—appeared in the distance between the two women and me.
The witch’s cold, hard eyes aimed at me and promised trouble. She started stomping toward me, and my pulse sped.
After all, I had somehow invaded her memory. Not that I wanted to have anything to do with her.
“You have no business in my dream realm, child.” Her voice overpowered any other sound, including the screaming and burning of wood.
Had I connected to the witch’s dream realm? If so, that meant she evoked an image of memory in her dream realm. A painful past experience she didn’t want to forget.
My throat grew dry as I attempted to swallow but only ended up coughing. The air mounted with so much tension that I had difficulty taking my next breath.
The witch waved her hand, and the fire pit, the crowd, and the crying women were all gone. She reminded me of how Torin held a painful memory close to his heart and inside his dream realm, experiencing the torture repeatedly but never letting it go.
Only mates and powerful witches could enter one’s realm. My legs wobbled, and I stumbled back as the thought invaded my mind. How could I, a human, access the witch’s dream realm, or had the magic book helped me?
All the more reason to open the magic book.
A cold heaviness expanded in my chest, and a chill ran down my spine. The questions about who I was kept piling up.
I had no time to ponder as the witch closed the distance, muttering something under her breath.
The street stones shook and lifted into a wave of dirt and rock, threatening to crush me.
The witch swatted her hands in the air, and the stones dislodged and moved like waves, throwing me to the curbside.
I landed on my side, my shoulder taking most of the force. A sharp pain cut at my arm, and my muscles weakened as if I couldn’t move freely on that side of my body anymore.
Like she controlled the trees in my enchanted forest, the witch controlled the earth in hers.
The four elements of the pentagram. The witch had complete control over them, and I didn’t want to witness her using her fire, water, and air powers.
She muttered words and waved her hands. She manipulated the elements with the right spells.
I lifted my elbow and straightened up. I sighed heavily as I clenched the book against my chest and scurried away, and from the corner of my eye, I detected an orange fireball flying toward me. I moved to the side at the last moment, and a thick, burning log landed behind me.
With her hands, the woman directed more blazing wood my way as a rain of fire, but it kept missing me. She didn’t want the book to burn—not that she cared about my life. She was playing with me, trying to tire me out.
I sprinted across the street to the other sidewalk and turned onto a small street, only to discover, after a few feet, that it was a dead end.
But the witch was already at the only exit, glaring at me while blocking my way.
“You made a big mistake entering my mind, child. Not only do you owe me a book, but you also push me too far.”
Nervous laughter escaped my lips. “One of my superpowers.”
The woman’s lips moved again, casting another spell, and a gust of wind whirled before me. At first, it appeared like a small tornado I could easily sidestep, but then it grew in size. The gray cloud swooped underneath my feet and picked me up high into the air.
It carried me over the two-story buildings—high enough that the witch could drop me to my death and still get her book.
My body spun out of control, and I wanted to grab onto something or someone. My entire body hurt as the wild wind pulled it in all directions.
I’d never feared more about my life before. Not even when Torin shifted into his vampire while he had me in his arms after I bit him.
C’mon, think. You don’t need supernatural powers to escape death.
Humans had fended for themselves and survived for centuries.
My mind controlled my dream realm, and I needed to go back there.
I hugged the book tighter, and a fluttery feeling formed in my chest. Shutting my eyes, I let the witch’s whirlwind carry me.
I envisioned the enchanted forest, bright and green with a white fluffy carpet of daisies on both sides of the stone path.
When my feet stepped on a hard surface, I reopened my eyes.
I almost sighed with relief until I noticed my dream realm was still a dark and gloomy night full of shadows. I could still feel the supernatural presence of the witch.
I hadn’t escaped yet. I had to wake up, but how?
“Impressive, but you’re no match for me,” her cold voice said behind me.
I twirled to face her.
When would she give up and leave me alone? How would I get out of here unscathed?
At that moment, my soul knew there was something about me not quite…
human. Everything I thought about my life was a lie.
And as long as I escaped the witch’s wrath, I would confront Dad about my ability to access the witch’s dream realm and block the vampire’s compulsion power.
No normal human could do that. Yet I believed I was one of them.
The witch directed soil and dirt to lift off the ground, and one large mud ball flew toward my chest. I couldn’t move completely out of its way. As it hit my shoulder, sudden, sharp pain pierced through my body as it forced my joint out of place.
Falling, I dropped the book. My shoulder popped back into its socket with throbbing pain in my side and chest. The pain was too much to hold in, and I screamed.
My body convulsed on the ground, coldness and exhaustion taking me over. I had no idea how to fight a witch.
I dragged my arm up and reached for the book that had landed next to me. I placed my palm over the cover and felt its pulse.
The witch’s boot appeared in my vision and stepped on my fingers, making me scream again. My fingers tingled and turned numb under the unbearable pressure.
“Why so stubborn?” she asked.
“I’m tired of everyone stealing my books,” I said.
For a moment, I considered negotiating with the witch—the book for my life. But then I let out a small laugh. I was as good as dead. She wouldn’t let me live anyway.
I tried to lift myself with my other hand, but agony and fatigue took over me. I shivered as the damp, chilly earth seeped into my bones.
“Cordelia, don’t touch her,” a deep, familiar voice boomed from the trees.
Startled, I turned my head. Torin ran toward us and shifted into his vampire mid-stride.
Behind him, Hayden followed, with no traces of his angelic face. He looked fierce and determined.
The men still had some distance to cover before they got to us—plenty of time for Cordelia to kill me.
Cordelia, huh? Torin knew her name.
At least I would die trying to find out who I was.
“Well, well. Look who joined the party,” she said and smiled sinisterly. “Two mates, Princess? Aren’t you a lucky gal?”
The witch didn’t look worried that two powerful supernatural men rushed toward her, making my stomach churn.
She bowed her head closer. “You have guts, my child. But let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t trust any of these men. They’re lying to you. Don’t choose either one of them. You’re in their bed one moment, and the next, you wake up at the burning stake.”
Cordelia straightened and glared at the running men. I seized the moment to pull my hand free from underneath the weight of the witch's boot. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, calling on all my energy, I rolled over and delivered a kick behind the witch’s knees.
The impact was enough to topple her. She fell on her knees first, and then her body dropped next to me, shock written on her face, but then it quickly transformed into twisted amusement as she began to laugh.
I sat on the ground and pulled the book to my chest. “You’re crazy.”
The witch's laughter faded, giving way to a frosty stare that made my spine freeze. “No, child. You’re crazy for attacking a dark witch. I like you, but it's not enough to save your life.”
Muttering a spell, she lifted her hand, and I held my breath.
Not again.
All went silent as if time had frozen in its tracks. Every muscle quivered and spasmed while my headache made it difficult to even think.
A desperate urge to stand and fight her welled up within me, but it was futile. I could never win against a dark witch. She was much worse than werewolf traitors or cruel vampires.
In the surreal silence, a nearby branch awoke with dark magic and came to life. It picked me up by my waist. With one swing, it hurled me into the next tree.
My body crashed into the hard bark, and my head thudded against it. A sharp pain surged through my neck and skull as I struggled to stay conscious. The searing pain rippled through my entire body. My eyelids finally grew too heavy to keep open, and I stopped moving.
In my last fleeting moments of awareness, a fierce and chilling growl reverberated through the air, reminding me of the danger that lurked in the supernatural world—the very reason why I escaped the kingdom.
The sound echoed in my ears as I became engulfed in darkness.