Chapter Seventeen #2
They say never meet your heroes. It’s true.
I’m barefoot and didn’t sleep in my coat, so I need to find those before heading outside. It may not be at freezing temperatures, but it’s still coat-weather.
On my way out of the study, I fall over a stack of books pushed against the wall haphazardly, landing with a thud on my elbow and a bang of my knees as I hit the hard wood. More bruises…fun.
I spot a small hole in one of the floorboards, it looks finger-sized and there’s something beneath it.
I can see through to below. Pushing my finger into the hole, I bend it to lift the wooden slat, which comes up easily.
There’s a never ending number of books all spread out beneath the floorboards.
It goes on for farther than I can see and they all look like the same book, just with different titles. All female names.
Picking one up, I read the name aloud. “Adelaide.” The brown cover is plain, no frills or patterns, only the name written in a gold script. Inside, the words are scratchy, but I make out a random paragraph.
She carries on, regardless of the jibes from her in-laws, patting her ill husband’s brow. She knows they are not to be ignored, but her husband takes precedence over her fear of death.
It reads like a journal written by an observer, and the more I take in, the more I feel for this Adelaide.
It seems to have been a time where being gay and proud wasn’t a thing, so she had married her best friend for convenience, for them both to keep their social standing in society at the time.
But she had a lover. One she planned to run off with from her home in England straight to America.
The journal ends abruptly, with Adelaide being beaten to death by her brother-in-law and his friends as they accused her of being a whore.
Wow. Harsh.
This is why I flick to the end. I need to know what kind of story I’m getting myself into. I have no idea how normal folk actually wait in suspense.
Another rumble, another yell, and it’s become the norm at this point. The cottage is faring well, no damage seen.
But I want my truth. Baba Yaga told me he was lying, and I’m inclined to believe her because…demon.
Putting the journal back and covering it again with the floorboard, I stand and take a little more time to exit the study. I find my boots beside the fire and my coat hanging on a rack by the door. Perfect.
Ready for the outdoors at what is probably around midnight, I grab the purple spell book and head toward the yelling. It’s clearer and comes more often once I’m out of the cottage, so I guess the home has amazing insulation.
I should have thought ahead and brought a candle with me, or some form of light, but alas, I did not.
Meaning I’m stumbling through thick shrubbery, barely missing slamming my head against a fallen trunk, and I drop the book at least twice.
I’m surprised the pages haven’t begun to rebel and fall out yet.
“Okay, okay, you can stop the yelling now. I’m here.” Waving a hand around, I head over to where Hack appears to be pressed against an invisible wall while banging against thin-air.
He stops as soon as he sees me, relief flooding his features as some of his anger disperses.
“Satapti, why have I been warded away?”
Ah, so that’s what this is. I do notice a slight shimmer in the air, almost dome-like.
“Must have been my mother. She told me what a liar you are, by the way.” Calling someone mother is going to take some getting used to.
He frowns, his brow creasing and his hands fisting.
“How so? It is impossible for me to lie to you, Sage. You are mine. I am yours.” He’s pleading with me now, desperation lacing his tone that is mostly fueled by anger.
“Well, I just so happen to have a little truth spell I’d like to try.” It’s my turn to have the smug grin as I hold up my spell book.
Lifting his palms up, he backs away from the ward thing and raises his brows, amusement taking over his anger and frustration. “I’m yours to do with what you will.”
Flipping through the pages, I scan so many different spells that my brain could burst from the knowledge. It’s exciting. When I get to the one I want, I step forward, mere inches away from the shimmering translucent dome.
“I need eye contact, okay?”
He nods in response, that signature smirk creeping back onto his face.
Taking a deep breath, I read over the words several times, trying to commit the short passage to memory.
“Okay.” I look back up into Hack’s eyes. “The truth I seek will reveal itself to me. Hidden will become light, so mote it be.” I repeat this three times, as suggested in the book, feeling absolutely nothing when I have finished. “Did it work?”
He shrugs. “Want to ask me something?”
“How will I know it’s worked?” I did not think this through properly.
“You trust me, Satapti. That is how.” He’s still on this chosen kick of his, so either nothing has happened, or he’s telling the truth.
I have no way of figuring out which it is.
“Get away from him!” This yell is less guttural than Hack’s, but it’s loud all the same. It’s combined with Baba Yaga standing in the distance with electricity shooting out from every angle of her. “She is mine, demon. MINE!”
Well, this has escalated quickly. Did I fuck up the spell?
She throws her arm forward as though a javelin was in it at the time, but instead of a javelin, it’s a streak of something bright green that comes shooting toward us, crashing against the shimmering ward.
A crack appears and Hack takes that as his opportunity to break it further, bashing his fist and vines against it, quickly making it grow under his assault.
Another green streak shoots past, grazing my cheek before hitting the surface. I would say I’m torn between Hack and the crazed witch, but that would be a lie. Despite my disgust toward Hack, he seems like the safest option.
I turn to see Baba Yaga keeping her distance, shooting off sparks as the ground around her vibrates, like it’s forming itself into some kind of mud beast on four legs.
A second blast of shoots so close to my face it singes my hair and Baba Yaga doesn’t apologize when I hold out my palms as if to say what the fuck?
Nope…she cackles. Actually cackles, like the old witch that she is.
Suddenly, the Brothers Grimm stories come back to me again and I decide I’d rather take my supernatural chances with someone that says they love me as opposed to someone that kinda gives me creepy-death vibes.
Mother or not, her attitude flip and disregard for my safety while shooting green things from her palms, has put me off…a lot.
It has absolutely nothing to do with how ripped Hack looks as he breaks through the dome and reaches a thick arm toward me.
“Come, quick. I can get us out of here.”
Maybe I can come back when she’s calmed down a little…
Taking his offering, I wrap my fingers around his and he yanks me into him, allowing himself just a short moment to sniff my hair—like a fucking insane person.
Within seconds, his white horse has appeared and the jokes I want to make about him riding in on his white horse—or not, as the case actually is—are plentiful, but I resist, all in the name of escaping the deranged witch with a vendetta against demons.
The earth beast beside her is now almost fully formed and I don’t want to stick around to find out what kind of damage it can cause.
The horse, Cirrus, makes quick work of the forest, shooting between trunks and bushes, heading straight for one of the mountains.
I can’t explain it, but part of me is questioning my decision to come with Hack rather than staying with the woman who was ready to teach me magic.
She doesn’t hate me, after all, just him…
Internally, I berate myself for being the dumbass who makes a decision based on the muscle on show…and Hack’s arms are about ten shows all at once with how thick and corded they are.
Ugh, but it wasn’t just the eye candy that made my decision. It was the insane cackle from the witch the boogeyman myth was born from.
Honestly, my choices as of late are between bad or worse and I’m beginning to find it difficult to understand my left from my right.
This kind of stuff is supposed to happen to twenty-one year olds who already make bad decisions, not almost thirty year olds with undiagnosed ADHD whose decisions are questionable at best.
“Brace yourself, Satapti.” Wrapping his arms tighter around my waist from behind me, Hack brings me back to the now, leading Cirrus up a narrow path beside the mountain before veering left inside a dark cave.
The sick feeling I keep getting makes me want to hunch over, but Hack keeps ahold of me, stopping me from falling off his horse.
My head swirls as I try to make out what happened, now seeing things I never even dreamed of seeing.
There are beings with faerie wings, some with gills, giant creatures made entirely of mud and stone…
I’m officially in Narnia. Or Wonderland.
Either way, it’s freaking magical and as Cirrus disappears from beneath us, my legs give out on me and my eyes suddenly feel really heavy.
Luckily, my knight with a pumpkin head rescues me yet again by not allowing me to fall. He quickly scoops me into his arms and looks down at me with his stupid perfect smirk firmly in place.
“Welcome to The Shade.”
I blink a few times, remembering that The Shade is basically like purgatory but not.
I guess I’ll see…but after I’ve slept because I’m really tired and that mouthful of stew is repeating on me.
On the plus side, the anger that usually consumes me when I’m this close to Hack has muted a little, or maybe it’s just being overtaken by the heaviness in each of my limbs.
My vision darkens and I curl into the warmth of Hack’s hold. He can keep me safe.
At least sleepy me can trust him.