Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I didn’t want to look away from Arwyn, but when I did it was to see the familiar stone hall from the castle. We were back. Except this time, we were alone. No other witches were around us. One look to the chalkboard and I could see why.
Only two names remained.
Hector Briar. Arwyn Hopkin. Not Morgan, as the chalkboard had revealed before. The surname of Father Tomin.
Arwyn was Tomin’s son.
How many illusions had Arwyn knotted over this place, keeping the truth hidden from me? I gathered the answer was an inconsolable number.
The rest of the names had been scored out with a harsh line, or completely removed from the board. I choked on my panic, juggling different anxieties all at once, as I searched for the only name I cared about.
And there it was. Written in bold letters, but scored out rather than rubbed out. Romy Baily. She was alive. But my relief was short lived.
‘As I told you, I’d never hurt her.’ Arwyn refused to look away from me as he spoke. We were both kneeling on the floor, as if the Dreading’s maze had literally melted away, planting us back inside of the castle. ‘Regardless of what you think of me. I’m a man of my word.’
‘You are no man. I don’t even know what I think of you…’ I choked out, knowing I should hate Arwyn but being useless at grasping that emotion. ‘I don’t even know who I’m looking at.’
Arwyn hung his head in shame. ‘I’m the person you’ve grown to trust.’
‘You’re a Witch Hunter , Arwyn.’ The accusation came out with such vigour, it was a surprise my Gift didn’t rear its head. ‘Whatever version of the person I thought I’d come to know was no different than your…illusions.’
If I began picking apart all of the possible lies he’d conjured, it would destroy me. I had to focus, now more so than ever.
We were the last two witches in the Trials.
I found my mind racing through our weeks together. How much had been real? It was easier to think backwards. First to when Romy pointed at Salem and accused him of being the Hunter. But in the same second, I’d spotted Salem across the battlefield. What if Salem was nothing but a conjured image, used to throw me off? Romy knew. She knew about Arwyn.
‘She never left us… did she?’ I asked, body so tense my muscles were trembling.
He lifted his head up to me, not a hint of a smile across his face. ‘No. She never left.’
I’d seen her in our bedroom window. Her handprint had been on the glass. ‘No point in dancing around the truth anymore, Arwyn. What did you do ?’
‘What I had to,’ he replied plainly. ‘Romy, when she was healing me, found my Witch Hunter’s mark. I was too weak to hold the illusion concealing it, and in that drop of concentration, she discovered my secret.’
It was a surprise when steam didn’t pour out of my ears. ‘And…what next?’
‘I cast an illusion across the room. But she was always there, with us. Hector, I know you think I’m a monster, and it’s something I won’t dispute. But I swear, I kept her fed and watered. I just…I had to ensure she was separate from you.’
‘You say it like she was some animal to lock away.’ My eyes narrowed, the world around me quaking. Power oozed from my skin, ready to strike out at Arwyn and break him apart. But still, reluctance held me back. I told myself it was because I needed answers, but I feared the truth was much more complicated than that.
‘Please, hear me out.’ Arwyn jolted towards me again, but this time I didn’t hold back my Gift. I sliced out the back of my hand, sending a blast of pure, undiluted energy into Arwyn’s body. The force tore him from his feet. He landed a short distance, rolling to a stop beneath the chalkboard.
‘Don’t fucking touch me.’ I didn’t think he was capable of hurting me. Arwyn had many chances to do that. But right now, all that mattered was holding onto reality before Arwyn manipulated it again. ‘How much of it was a lie, Arwyn? The story about your mother, the perfectly painted picture you’ve given me of your life outside of the Witch Trials?’
‘She was real.’ Arwyn pushed himself off the floor. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth, which he didn’t bother to clean up. I only noticed he dropped the athame when his eyes snapped to the knife where it rested on the ground. Before he could make a move for it, I called the athame into my hand. The press of the warm handle comforted me somewhat.
‘I swear to you, everything I’ve told you about my life is real. Perhaps it wasn’t all the details, but I gave you what I could without jeopardising my position here.’
I laughed, barking like a deranged dog. ‘So help me understand how you go from telling me your mother was executed by Witch Hunters, to you working for them? Make that make sense, because Hekate knows I don’t understand.’
Arwyn snarled, his lip curling over blood-stained teeth. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Well,’ I snapped, gesturing to the empty hall around us. ‘We’re all alone. Look around you. Just me and you left. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves.’
‘Before what?’ Arwyn asked, gaze flickering between me and the athame. In a blink, Arwyn gathered his confidence and walked back towards me. His pace was sure, his stride long and undeterred. He didn’t stop until only the athame was between us. ‘Do you plan to kill me, Hector? Because I don’t think you have it in you.’
My grip tightened on the handle as I refused to lower the blade. It pricked through Arwyn’s shirt, cutting into the flesh above his Hunter’s mark. ‘I’ll do what’s required.’
‘I’m not your enemy,’ Arwyn said, looking down the bridge of his nose at me. ‘Believe what you think. See me as the monster your kind makes us out to be, when the truth has always been lying right before you.’
‘Your kind?’ I stammered, head aching. ‘You say it as if you’re any different.’
‘I am.’
It was my turn to snarl at him. Deep in the pit of my throat a growl emanated, spilling out through my clenched teeth. ‘ Your kind killed my parents and your mother!’
Arwyn rocked back at that, as if he forgot, although from the way his haunted eyes darkened I could tell that wasn’t the case. ‘Not everything is as it seems. Witches, Witch Hunters. These trials. We are all pawns in a much bigger, darker picture. One that would turn your world upside down if you knew.’
‘You’re trying to distract me. Disarm me enough to get rid of me and win.’
He shook his head. ‘No, Hector. I will win, because I vowed to protect you.’
‘From what?’ I bellowed, the two words echoing around the hall.
I almost believed Arwyn’s silence was a way of proving he was not going to reply. Not going to answer me. But instead, when he opened his mouth, he spoke a name that chilled me to the core. ‘ Bahmet .’
The name rang clear. The one Eleanor had called out as the fire ate away at her flesh. ‘You lied. You told me you didn’t hear what Eleanor said.’
‘I was protecting you,’ Arwyn pleaded. ‘You couldn’t say the name, and I didn’t want to remind you.’
And yet I remembered. This time, that name didn’t slip through my mind like sand through fingers.
The atmosphere changed. I couldn’t place it, but it felt as though we were no longer alone. As if something else was in the room with us, watching from somewhere unseen. As if speaking the name aloud conjured it.
‘Who is this?—’
‘Demon. Bahmet , the maker of deals. The very root of evil. Pure, demonic darkness. You’ve discovered not only my secrets, but the undocumented truth hidden beneath this place. Ask yourself why the Coven send witches here. Not as contestants, but as sacrifices to something greater. A tithe. A payment for power. There is so much you don’t know, and I understand I’m the last person you wish to trust. But I swear to you, Hector, I’m not your enemy.’
Tears welled in his eyes, brightening the colour like water over diamonds. ‘Ask yourself why your mother’s dying wish was to keep you away from this. To prevent the Witch Trials from ever happening again.’
‘Don’t you dare speak of my mother as if you knew who she was, or what she wanted.’
Arwyn chewed on his lip, his eyes breaking away from mine in a moment of weakness. ‘In a game of darkness, it is important we find our light. Hector, that’s you. It’s always been you.’
There was nothing light about me. Not with the slithering beast in my gut.
It’s always been you.
There was barely a moment of peace as I let reality sink in. I didn’t even have time to react, physically or mentally to Arwyn’s words.
A bell tolled. The warning gong that signalled the beginning of a Trial. The sound was so loud, so demanding, it was like being stood beneath the bell itself as it rang. My skin shivered with it, my ears threatening to bleed as the noise ruptured my insides.
But the Dreading had just concluded. There should’ve been at least a few days between. Never had two Trials occurred back-to-back. Unless… unless the entity behind it felt the need to rush.
And yet there was no mistaking that noise for anything else than what it was.
A signal to the next trial.
‘ Bahmet needs to find a new vessel,’ Arwyn continued, his voice clear but rushed. ‘The final Trial is upon us.’
All I wanted to do was scream at him, demand that he explained what this Bahmet was. A demon he said, and yet even I felt as though it was something more. Because all the name meant to me was a bad taste in my mouth, and a physical tremor of disgust across my flesh.
He took my distraction as a chance to move the athame from his stomach and gather me into his hands.
‘What did I say about touching me?’
‘You must listen to me, Hector.’ Arwyn interrupted, panic clawing across his face. ‘There is evil at work. Evil I want to destroy. But to do so, I must win the Witch Trials. I must become the vessel for the Grand High.’
I tried to break free of him, but his grasp was iron strong. My eyes glowed as I completely unleashed my gift. The athame raised in the air, held by invisible hands, and levelled itself against Arwyn’s throat.
‘I swear to Hekate herself, if you don’t release me, I will kill you.’
Arwyn’s grasp didn’t falter. All that changed was his expression. His full lips drew down into a frown, lines across his forehead more like deep gouges. ‘Hekate has no dominion here. Haven’t you worked that out yet?’
That was the proof I needed to know he was lying. Because if Hekate didn’t have control here, then why could I call upon the old magic? If Her presence was anywhere, it was here. I smiled at the knowledge that I had finally worked him out.
‘You’re wrong.’ I pictured the symbols for the elements in my mind, gathering the glowing cords of light in my minds eye as they burned brighter than any sun. ‘Hekate is here, I sense her.’
One thought and I’d unleash each element upon him. That was all it would take.
‘I didn’t say she wasn’t here,’ Arwyn added, looking no different to a frightened little boy. ‘I said she has no dominion. This place is her prison, as it is ours. It’s Bahmet who rules. Bahmet who infects. Bahmet who takes our souls and feeds them into this place. You saw his creations. You’ve felt their claws sink into your flesh. You cannot deny there is darkness here.’
I wasn’t sure what I could deny or confirm. Nothing was making sense. All beside a faint scratching sound that started just beyond Arwyn’s shoulder. Without lowering the athame with my mind, I peered behind him to see what was making the sound. Another witch? Had someone else survived the Dreading?
No. What I found was something other . An unseen presence was writing on the chalkboard. Over and over, they scrawled two words in harsh, knife sharp lines.
The Rewarding. The Rewarding. The Rewarding.
But no one was there. At least that was what I thought as the chalk moved on its own, as if my power controlled it. But the truth was much darker.
As my gaze settled on the dark corner of the room, just beside the chalkboard, I saw a figure concealed in the shadows. I first caught the orange glowing eyes, as though hell itself burned within them. They were set into an animalistic face of a ram or goat. It was too dark to tell which. Large, curled horns waited on either side of its head. It was connected to the unnatural body of a man, with legs of a satyr from ancient Greek mythology. I blinked, expecting the apparition to disappear. But the opposite occurred. Its outlines grew stronger, its presence so real I felt its burning eyes drink me up and down.
Fear immobilised me.
‘What is it?’ Arwyn asked, his voice soft. Even with the thorns between us, it was still natural for him to take the position of protector. It was the same for me too. For a moment I forgot he was a Witch Hunter, my enemy. I forgot everything that had been revealed and wanted only to bury my face into his chest and pretend I’d never seen the creature in the corner of the room.
Arwyn’s hold on me relaxed as he turned around to see what had caused all the blood to drain from my face. I took the chance to draw back from him. As I did, I lowered the athame, allowing it to float down into my waiting hand where I quickly placed it into my belt.
‘So the final trial is the Rewarding,’ Arwyn said what I had already discovered. But what he didn’t mention was the demonic figure watching us from the shadows. Studying us. ‘Where we’ll be shown our greatest wish, and prove we are resistant to its draw.’
‘Why bother telling me if you’re so desperate to win?’ I asked, feeling those hellfire eyes devouring me. No matter how I pretended the creature was not there, I couldn’t deny the heavy presence.
Arwyn didn’t answer my question. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. ‘Because I’m confident I will pass it.’
I swallowed down the sudden rush of bile. ‘How so?’
The creature moved, lifting hoofed hands up. As it did, the darkness beat and swelled like a living thing. It crept up the walls, and across the floor, like oil spreading towards us. ‘Because what I desire most in this world, is your forgiveness.’ Arwyn lifted a hand and traced fingers down the side my face. I should’ve pulled back, for I allowed his touch to comfort me as the shadows gathered closer and closer. ‘And I already know that it is something I will never deserve from you. I’ve lost that chance before it even truly was one. That, Hector Briar, is exactly why I know I’ll win and you will lose.’
His hand dropped, but the presence of his touch lingered. ‘You seem so confident.’
Arwyn turned his back on me and faced the gathering shadows. As he did, he answered me. Although I couldn’t see his expression, I heard the emotion in his tone. The way he choked on his words and how they cracked in pitch. ‘You shall see.’
Then the darkness was on us, and this time I didn’t run from it, fight it, or resist it.
I welcomed it.