Chapter 5 Julia
Julia
Hannah sinks to her knees before me, offering her essence despite knowing how easily I could destroy her.
What a strange, reckless girl. In spite of her obvious terror, she doesn’t waver. There’s steel beneath that soft exterior, unexpected and intriguing. When was the last time someone surprised me?
In all my years of feeding, through hundreds of victims across decades of hunting, they all responded the same way: begging, bargaining, trying to escape. They’ve offered me money, possessions, livestock, loved ones…anything but themselves.
But Hannah? She chose self-sacrifice to protect strangers.
Not since Charlotte has anyone willingly given themselves to me. But unlike Charlotte, Hannah will have to stay alive. At least until we’re unbound.
The memory of Charlotte’s last moments tries to surface—her trembling body, the adoration in her eyes, and then that absolute, final stillness—but I shove it down. Now’s not the time to think about her.
With our knees almost touching, I shake loose my shoulders, ready to begin.
The crackle of settling logs fills the silence, and the scent of smoke and something sweet hovers between us. The firelight dances over the crease between her eyebrows, the determined set of her jaw, and her narrowed blue eyes.
I can’t help it: my lips curl into a satisfied grin.
Oh, Rebecca. You put a binding spell on me to weaken me and force me into dependency, and instead, you’ve handed me a girl who willingly offers herself to me.
The irony is delicious. I look forward to watching her realize how badly her plan failed. How she gifted me with a source of power that I don’t have to hunt for. Granted, I will have to feed on her energy frequently since I cannot fully drain her, but that won’t be a problem given that we’re bound.
“What do I need to do?” Hannah asks.
I flex my fingers, my gnawing hunger making me desperate to grab her. “Feeding requires physical contact with the victim.”
“I understand that much,” she says coldly. She smooths her hair, which is undone and tangled from when I knotted my fingers in it.
I wiggle my fingers, still waiting for her to place her hands in mine. “A simple skin-contact ritual will suffice.”
The pinch in her brow tells me she’s wondering what other kinds of rituals there are. But there’s no sense in scaring her off.
Hesitantly, she reaches out and lays her palms over mine.
Her essence pulsates eagerly, rich and vibrant.
But it’s not just her essence flooding my awareness—it’s the flutter of her pulse, the coolness of her skin, the little hitch in her breath.
Her hands are so delicate that I might shatter her fingers if I squeeze too hard.
As her skin warms under my touch, it’s like holding onto silk.
Focus. I’ve fed on hundreds without getting distracted by the mechanics of their bodies.
I close my eyes and begin the incantation, drawing her energy into me like a deep swig of ale.
“Tua essentia mea fit…”
The sensation is immediate and intoxicating, like warm honey flowing through my soul.
And oh, the feel of her. Unlike a life force stolen from an unwilling victim, hers is offered freely, and it tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Her flavor, her texture, the way she settles into my bones…
Hannah sucks in a sharp breath, and I open my eyes to find her gaze locked onto me. In the firelight, her eyes are molten. Her cheeks are flushed, her full lips parted. The way she’s looking at me makes heat coil deep inside me, pleasure rushing through my core.
As I continue reciting, her breaths become fast and shallow, and her fingers tighten over mine. She’s enjoying this, as she should.
But her life force is…resisting. Perhaps she’s stronger than I thought.
I push up her sleeves, exposing her wrists and forearms so I can access more of her. When I press my palms to her bare skin, she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, like she’s surprised by the sensation.
I recite the incantation again, louder this time.
My fingers darken. Her life force flows into me in waves, each pulse sending an intoxicating rush through me. I tip my head back, my breaths quickening as power fills me.
God, has feeding always been this good? Have I forgotten after spending so many years dormant? Her taste is better than anything I can remember, and the sensation of her in my veins is better than what any mouth or fingers could do to me.
Hannah’s hands twitch in my grasp, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans closer.
My magic wants to keep going. It wants me to push her onto her back and pin her hands above her head, to thoroughly drain her, to take every drop of energy she has until…
Her eyelids flutter, and the rosy color in her cheeks drains. She begins to tremble, weakening.
No. If I don’t stop, the binding spell will ensure I die right along with her.
Hannah might be mine to feed on, but she’s also mine to protect, whether I like it or not.
My hands might as well have turned to stone, given how hard it is to let go of her. But I grit my teeth and force my grip to loosen. As my darkened fingers uncurl from her forearms, the connection snaps, leaving me breathless.
My insides burn, left wanting and unsatisfied. Like drinking a single drop of water after being parched. Or like stopping right at the moment of climax, denying myself the full release. Spikes of pain pulse through my veins, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for her again.
That’s enough, I tell myself firmly.
I wipe my arm across my clammy forehead. My magic coils tighter, yearning to take a little more.
So this is where Rebecca gets me: leaving me perpetually unsatisfied and unable to drink my fill.
Hannah pulls her hands in, cradling them against her chest. She blinks and looks around.
The color has returned to her face, which is reddening as a flush creeps up her neck.
Her fingers tremble as she touches her forearms, tracing the path my hands took as if trying to understand what happened to her.
She looks thoroughly ravaged—lips parted, pupils dilated, sweat glistening at the base of her throat.
When her gaze darts to mine, quick and uncertain, the look in her eyes is not fear or disgust, but something like curiosity about a feeling she doesn’t know what to do with.
Interesting.
She has no idea what she’s invited into her life.
I tear my gaze away and flex my fingers, my restored power tingling beneath my skin.
At my gesture, the kettle rumbles, and steam billows from the spout. I guide it to the coffee table and pour boiling water into Hannah’s mug.
“Much better.” I set the kettle back onto the stove, sighing with the satisfaction of having my magic respond properly. At least it’s enough to sustain me for now. I’ll be able to perform basic magic and maybe a complex spell or two before I need to feed again.
“Now we can find the witch who cursed us?” Hannah says, her voice hoarse.
I stand and dust off my sleeves, pleased with how steady I feel despite the incomplete feeding. “Yes. We will start by finding what’s left of my coven.”
“And…where are they?”
“Before my sleep—” I huff. “—we lived in cottages on the outskirts of Fort Langley. Does that still exist?”
Confusion creases Hannah’s brow. “Yes. But I think the people who live there would’ve noticed a coven of witches living in town.”
“You would be surprised by how easily we can hide.” The thought of finding Rebecca makes my blood sing with anticipation.
Hannah pushes to her feet, swaying. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I peer out the window, but it’s too dark to see outside. “By what conveyance will we travel? Have you horses?”
She stares at me, then lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Um, no. But there’s a bus that runs to Fort Langley.”
I narrow my eyes. “An omnibus? Like a stagecoach?”
“No, it’s motorized, like…the car you…earlier…” She shifts, hugging herself.
Ah, the man I tried to kill. How efficient. “Wonderful. Take me to this bus. And I’ll need shoes.”
Minutes later, my feet are encased in something she called Birkenstocks, and I’m questioning humanity’s decision to do away with horses.
The bus is a hulking metal beast that wheezes and groans as it lurches through the dark streets, moving faster than any horse I’ve seen.
It belches smoke into the already foul air, and the interior smells faintly rotten.
Ghastly lights flicker overhead, casting a yellow glow over the other passengers.
Through the grimy windows, more lights streak past. Every surface is sticky, but I have no choice but to grip the seat beneath me for balance as we sway around a corner.
“They let anyone ride these things?” I ask, eyeing the handful of other people on board.
A woman is speaking into a small black object, laughing at someone who isn’t there. Is she mad? Possessed? But no one else seems concerned.
Near the front, an older man keeps turning back to look at Hannah. Even when he’s facing away, his reflection in the dark window shows him still watching us. It makes me want to curse his eyes right out of his head.
“Anyone with fare.” Hannah sinks deeper into her seat, either oblivious to the man’s stares or purposely ignoring him. “You’ll need me to get around since you don’t have money.”
How inconvenient. But I suppose it’s not like I could leave her side even if I wanted to.
I reach for my magic, testing its edges.
Normally, I could compel, curse, shield, hex, and strike my way out of any problem.
I could crack the earth beneath us or crush this entire structure to dust. But the incomplete feeding has given me limited power, which I will need to carefully conserve.
The idea puts a strange twist in my gut.
Out the window, the world has changed beyond recognition.
Everything is huge and sprawling. Buildings stretch skyward like glass and metal mountains.
Where there were dirt roads and wooden walkways, there are now smooth stone paths marked with painted lines.
Instead of gas lamps, towering poles are topped with harsh lights so bright they turn night into day.
The sights drive a cold, hollow feeling into my soul.
Did Rebecca know how cruel it would be to make me powerless in a world I don’t recognize?
“You okay?” Hannah asks.
Her tone is surprisingly concerned. When was the last time anyone asked how I’m faring?
“I’m quite well,” I lie, watching another metal beast roar past mere inches away. “The world is simply different from what I remember.”
“I bet. 118 years is a long time.”
Her reminder of the number of years that have passed churns my stomach. I’ve been trying not to think of it, but I will soon have to face the truth: how many of my coven sisters are still alive? Old age would not have come for them yet, but that’s not to say other forces didn’t.
As the night darkens and we weave through the streets, I study Hannah’s profile in the glow of the passing lamps.
She has recovered from our feeding session, showing more resilience than I expected from such a delicate creature.
But there is tension in her shoulders and tightness around her eyes that suggests she’s not as unaffected as she’s trying to appear.
Good. I need her to stay motivated to break this infuriating spell—and strong enough to withstand what comes next. I will need to do a more powerful feeding ritual with her soon, whether she can take it or not.
But there are so many unknowns about her. How did that journal end up in her possession? What role does she play in Rebecca’s larger design?
The curse may have made me weak, but I cannot let Hannah see how desperate I am for answers, for power, and for any connection to the world I knew.
Though the binding spell has forced us together, that doesn’t mean I must trust her.
Not when the journal that imprisoned me found its way into her hands.