Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I t had been two nights since The Enduring had ended, and whenever I slept, I dreamt of Eleanor. Every detail of her death played clearly in my mind, beside one thing. She’d called for someone, a name I couldn’t remember. When she brought down the shield around her village, I’d heard it. But no matter how hard I tried to repeat it, conjure it, the letters and vowels fell away from me.
I had asked Arwyn, but he had looked strangely at me, shaking his head, telling me he didn’t hear it. Somehow, I didn’t believe him.
Our days had all been much of the same. I woke before Romy and Arwyn, sat myself beside the window of our room and looked out over the mist-coated expanse of the castle’s grounds. Eleanor’s grimoire was open on my lap, the crisp pages as delicate to the touch as a moth’s wing. The page I’d stopped reading was about runes and their respective intentions. My comprehension of the information was limited. I found that it was like reading a different language, which I supposed was exactly the case. This kind of magic, at least, was foreign to me. But I didn’t stop searching—searching for a way to break open the shield around the castle and let Caym in, searching for an answer to what Eleanor had done that sealed up the old magic and granted witches access to Gifts.
There were so many questions, and yet the more I read from the grimoire, expecting answers, all I got were more fucking questions.
Romy was fast sleep in the four-poster bed, her snores audible from the mound of pillows that suffocated her. It was a miracle she’d hear anything from within the pile of comfort. Arwyn was sleeping too, sitting upright in the reading chair which currently kept our door barricaded shut. I had meant to wake him three hours ago so he could take over the watch shift. But there had been something so peaceful about him that stopped me from disturbing him. The usual hard lines across his face had smoothed and the tension in his posture had eased.
In the time since we’d returned from the Enduring, three more witches had died. Last time I’d checked the chalkboard, there was twenty names written on it. So many had died, and I didn’t even feel unwell at the thought.
More would die too. Romy and Arwyn, perhaps.
And there was still the issue of the Witch Hunter amongst the remaining contenders. Salem had not been seen since we returned, and hell knows I tried searching for him. If he didn’t want to kill us, witches like Jaz did.
We left the room, together and never alone. Food and water, supplies, everything we required, we brought back to our room and locked ourselves away. We’d taken turns washing in the communal showers, two standing guard outside the door. It was our daily routine, one we all had fallen into with ease.
I was worried about Romy. She had kept comments about her time during the Trial to a minimum. She was careful with the information she gave, proving she had something to hide. All I knew was she’d been with Jaz until that went to shit and Jaz sold Romy out to a passing group of Witch Hunters. The rest I was aware of. But something else had happenedI could see it in the troubled glint in Romy’s eyes. In time she would tell me, or perhaps not. Either way, I wasn’t in a position to pry. There were details of my experience in the Trial which I’d kept to myself.
Namely our new coven member, Arwyn, who was reluctant to leave my side since we returned.
I fought a yawn as I continued my read-through of Eleanor’s grimoire. The handwriting changed the further through the book I got. It was obvious the book had been touched by many a Letcombe witch, Eleanor being the last. I felt it was my job to keep her name alive, since we’d been the ones to bring death to her door.
My fingers ran over the grooves quill had made when the witch had written in the Book of Shadows. One page spoke of ‘calling the four quarters,’ whereas the next would be a full insight into the fauna and herbs used to concoct a potent hex. I flipped between drawings of the Wheel of the Year, which showcased the eight sabbats important to the craft. Next came a depiction of the different moon phases and their meanings. Candle magic, astrology guides and a description of the art of scrying all came in quick succession. I didn’t know what, precisely, I was looking for, but my gut told me to keep going. I recognised the tug of my intuition, so I continued to search through the sun-yellowed pages until my heart screamed at me to stop.
‘ Demonology ,’ I whispered aloud, unable to stop myself. Someone had scrawled the name atop the page in a rush. Ink splotches signalled the writer hadn’t taken the time to tap their quill before writing.
A shiver of discomfort rolled over me. My skin almost felt sticky to the touch, as though the word I read had the power to make my body recoil from it. In the centre of the page, someone had drawn the head of a goat. It had curling horns that belonged on the head of a minotaur from Greek history, not some lowly farm animal. It was familiar to me, but I couldn’t grasp why. Like there was something in my mind stopping me, a locked door, preventing me from making sense of why my body reacted to the image. Around it, smaller birds had been drawn, the smudges of ink looking more like shadows. The same creatures we had seen when the Enduring began. The demons Eleanor spoke of keeping out of her village.
There was a paragraph of writing beneath which I read.
‘…they came on the wind, whispering secrets of power unlike any other. Access to magic’s far stronger than what our deity provides. They long to ruin, corrupt and control. Born from the hellfire, they will not stop. Using stones soaked beneath both Hekate’s sun and moon, erect around a blessed space and cover with the runes of protection for shield, authority and home. This repels unwanted magic, or keeps it contained, dependant on the positioning of the rune-marks. Only the witch who cast the circle can be the witch to break it. Face outwards to keep the creatures away, or inward to keep them trapped.’
I was so deep in the writing that I didn’t notice the presence until the shadow leaned over me. ‘I don’t remember you visiting the library.’
I snapped the book shut, knowing it was too late to conceal it from Arwyn. There was no hiding the etched pentagram on the cover. So I didn’t bother to try and hide it. ‘That’s because I didn’t.’
Arwyn nudged my feet with his hands, beckoning for me to move. ‘May I join you?’
I could’ve declined, but something in me wanted his company. Even the short time we’d spent alone, I’d grown comfortable with him by my side. Like Arwyn had slipped into the void Caym had left.
Arwyn took a seat opposite me, peering out the window, sleepy eyes wincing against the light. ‘You should’ve woken me, Hector.’
‘And ruin the peace and quiet? I don’t think so.’
‘Ruin the peace and quiet, or allow you time to read through your dirty little secret?’ Arwyn’s eyes lingered on the closed book. I longed to cower over it, hide it from view. I followed his gaze to my hands, noticing that my knuckle bones were standing out through the skin I was grasping it so tight. I made myself relax.
‘It isn’t dirty,’ I replied.
‘But you don’t deny it’s your little secret?’
I studied Arwyn, searching for a reason not to trust him. But his easy smile, his open eyes, and the ability his presence had to relax me, all told me to stop being pathetic. I exhaled, a long breath and extended the book for him to take. ‘Eleanor gave it to me. I didn’t tell you because…’
‘There’s no need for you to explain yourself to me, Hector.’ Arwyn took it, his focus intent on the leather-bound tome. As he traced his fingers over the cover, a shiver ran down my spine. ‘You don’t owe me an explanation.’
‘I know I don’t,’ I said, still finding it easier to be defensive than welcoming.
Arwyn pretended not to notice as he thumbed the pages and flicked through the grimoire. ‘Find anything interesting within her grimoire?’
‘Just the usual jumble of witch’s notes and sketches.’ I paused, careful to stop myself asking the next question. It would’ve been insensitive insinuating Arwyn had one of his own, when his mother was also killed by Witch Hunters. Perhaps his father passed a grimoire onto him, or maybe not. ‘I’ve been looking for a way of reaching Caym whilst we are trapped here.’
‘And…’ Arwyn briefly looked up at me through his dark lashes. They were so prominent I could’ve counted them. But a blush crept over my face and I looked back to his hands.
‘So far nothing,’ I said, snatching the book from him and turning to the page on demonology. ‘Except this explained some bits about those creatures Eleanor was keeping out with her shield. Have you ever seen anything like this before?’
I didn’t give him the book, but turned it so he could take in the page. Arwyn winced, as though something pained him. But he quickly hardened his expression and was quiet as he took everything in. ‘I recognise those runes. At least some of them spell out the same markings that were around the archway we all entered to get here. But this is about keeping the demons out. I don’t think it’s going to help reach your familiar.’
‘No, not that part. It also suggests keeping things in . We, being the things that are kept in. I’m wondering if a similar spell is around the castle. It would explain what’s keeping any of us from leaving. A double-sided barrier perhaps? Impenetrable from both sides.’
‘Unless a witch wishes to withdraw and walks out the archway they came in through.’ Arwyn’s rich azure eyes brightened. I couldn’t help but notice just how dull they made the sky look. As if he’d opened his eyes, drank in the beautiful colour, and left the world around him boring and bland.
‘A break in the armour, no doubt. But one I’m not going to entertain.’
‘No, of course you’re not.’ There was no denying the disappointment in Arwyn’s voice. It irked me, knowing it was something he hoped for me to do.
‘Then what do you want to do with this information?’
I shrugged, peering out the misty window. ‘If we could find the barrier, like Eleanor’s circle of stones, then perhaps we can then figure out how to break it.’
‘I could do with some fresh air,’ Arwyn said.
I knew exactly what he was insinuating. The silent understanding between us both made me smile. ‘It isn’t safe for us to go looking. Not with Jaz on the prowl and Salem missing. And the next Trial could start at any moment and we haven’t even located the next clue.’
‘Excuses, excuses.’ Arwyn tsked, tongue wetting his lower lip. I really needed to stop focusing on the small details of him. I had to focus. But that was easier said than done. ‘What else are we going to spend our time doing, Hector?’
‘What are you suggesting, Arwyn?’
I didn’t realise it, but we were leaning in closer. Not until Romy’s snores broke into a cough. Arwyn leaned back, dusting off the strange tension between us. ‘We’ll go together. First, we’ll go have a look at the boundaries, see if we can find anything similar to what was around Eleanor’s village. Then we can worry about the next Trial.’
‘Your priorities seem a little mixed up,’ I said, closing the book and planting it beneath the worn pillow at my back.
‘ You are my priority,’ Arwyn replied, so matter-of-factly my breath caught in my throat. Even his expression was serious. For the next few seconds, I waited for him to break and smile, but the more time went on, the more I couldn’t refuse the truth of what he said.
What I wanted to say was why ? But I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation.
‘Well then,’ I said, looking anywhere but him. ‘It’s a date.’
Fuck my life. Why did I just say that?
A small, muffled voice sang from beneath the fortress of pillows. ‘Can I third wheel?’
Heat flooded my cheeks as we both looked towards Romy. She poked her head up and out, hair sticking up around her, sleep dust around her eyes. Her smile was suggestive, her narrowed gaze telling me that she’d been listening for a while.
‘Yes,’ Arwyn said, standing from the seat, disappointment evident in his tone.
It came to no surprise that Romy was a morning person. She had barely woken up and she had sprung from bed, stretching and yawning, looking like she’d downed three energy drinks.
‘What Arwyn meant to say is there’s nothing to third wheel,’ I chimed in. ‘Because that would imply it’s a date, and it’s not.’
‘ You’re the one who called it a date, Hector,’ Romy accused, and she wasn’t wrong.
I pulled a face. ‘Figure of speech.’
Arwyn chuckled softly, which was followed by Romy’s light-hearted giggle. I couldn’t help but smile either, because there was something to easy about their joint presence. Although for two very different reasons.
Arwyn placed a gentle hand on the small of my back. ‘Lead the way.’
There was something about having a man offer me the control that sent my nerves haywire. Regardless if I admitted it or not, if I’d met Arwyn outside of the Witch Trials, I would’ve bedded him multiple times by now. And from the look he gave me, the feeling was undoubtedly mutual.
It really was a shame that one of us would have to kill the other eventually.
Unless …