3. Chapter 3 #2
We’d just left the borders of Meridian when she cracked the window open and stuck her head out. Resting her chin on the sill, she stared at me with her big, brown, drowning eyes. “Are we sharing a coffin? You look heavy, so I’d really prefer to be on top.”
My men snorted, trying to hide their cackling from me. They were somewhat more relaxed than I expected considering their particular opinions on Meridian witches.
She yelped when I grabbed the window and shut it.
Not even five minutes later, she stuck her head out again.
“It’s a waxing moon and the quiet is making me a little anxious.” And then, with the tonality of someone being absolutely serious, she said, “Sing me a song.”
Henry was the first to throw his head back and laugh. Once he was done wiping his tears, he said, “Careful, witch. He’s got an awful small amount of patience for jokes.”
“Don’t talk to her.”
Throwing a pinched glare in my direction, she stuck her arm out of the window and held her palm in Henry's direction. “Name’s Willow. What’s yours?”
I could see him briefly considering it until I said, “Shake her hand and I will cut yours to the elbow.”
He smirked, still tempted. “Sorry, witch. He’s the boss.”
She pouted. “He’s kind of mean. You should all gather around with pitchforks and throw him out.”
“Put your arm back inside.”
She rolled her ridiculously big brown eyes.
“I think you should know I am not in the business of cursing. Charms and hexes and such aren’t my forte.
I can twist a mean sedge braid for one's good fortune, but that’s as far as I can go in terms of…
craftiness.” She itched the tip of her nose.
“And the sage braid comes with zero insurance and no returns. And absolutely no guarantee.”
“I don’t care if you even put the pox on him. Just don’t talk to him.”
She stuck her tongue out at me and slammed the window shut.
Had she just—
She shoved the window down again. “Are we there yet?”
Saintly Hells. “What does it look like to you?”
She stuck her head all the way out of the window, looking up at the trees.
“I don’t know. Have you named the branch which you perch on, my lord?
” Her brows shot up. “Or have you claimed a whole tree since you’re a fancy duke and all?
” She flashed me a toothy grin when I narrowed my eyes on her.
“Are bat jokes in bad taste around here?”
It was Henry who said, “Coffin ones, too.”
She gasped a little, the corner of her mouth turning up. “Two strikes and nobody told me anything?”
“They’re sort of scared of him,” Henry said, tipping his head in my direction. “You could call their mothers whores and they’d still apologise to you.”
“I’d never call anyone's mother a whore.” She rested her chin on the sill again, staring at me. It was starting to become impossible not to stare back. “What’s his deal?”
“Where do I even start,” Henry chuckled.
Tension had gathered in my stiff neck. “How about with a bullet-sized hole in your head?”
“That’s a good start right there,” Henry said, throwing her a wink. “He’s typically more loving. Fists and knees in the gut, mostly.”
Arthur let out a grunt. “You tryin’ to scare his bride, or what?”
Henry’s brows were up. “Don’t think it’s working.”
She kept chuckling with each word, beaming with each reply. Her round eyes followed the entire conversation with so much unexplainable enthusiasm. In comparison to her coven sisters who did everything in their power to avoid any unnecessary interaction or contact with us.
The forest started rustling in our direction, and every instinct in my body tensed, preparing.
Silver Woods was full of courageous, suicidal idiots placing bets on the biggest thing they could find to hunt down.
But neither of them were courageous or suicidal enough to attack nearly a dozen vampires in the dark when we were at our strongest.
Arthur, who was riding ahead, slowed. “What the fuck is that?”
Two red glowing eyes pierced the darkness from the belly of the forest, growing closer and closer to us. The foreign scent seeping in the wind didn't trigger any notes of danger in my system, but I pushed my wife’s head inside the carriage and shut the window.
Something large jumped from the bushes.
In two leaps, the grey-furred lycan was flying over us, landing only a foot or two from the cavalry.
Something was not right with it. Foaming at the mouth, eyes bloodshot, and whatever bit of unfurred skin it had had turned a sickly pale violet.
Though they weren’t exactly good to look at in their true form, they didn’t typically look so violently ugly.
Bullets struck it a few times before it dropped to the forest ground with a heavy thud. Barely giving any fight, any resistance at all.
Lycans typically never travelled on their own, always sticking with their packs, so my soldiers formed a circle around us, aiming at the forest ahead.
“It’s sick with something,” Henry said, covering his nose. “Bloody Hell! Fucking stinks like a rotten corpse.”
“Where are the others?” Arthur asked, his rifle pointed at the tree terrace.
I’d not noticed that my witch had left the carriage until I felt her warm hand on my elbow as she leaned against me to take a peek at the lycan lying a few feet away.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked, sneering at my men who’d allowed her out of the carriage.
She lifted a thin finger and pointed it at the damn lycan. “He’s still moving.” She quickly motioned around as if she was swinging an invisible sword. “Tell your people a lycan must be struck above their head. Anything below heals rather fast.”
Her cheeks puffed up in a gag when Henry shot a bullet right through the creature's skull.
“Why’s a lycan so close to Meridian territory anyway?” Arthur asked, crouching down to inspect it. “A witch would have sniffed him ten miles away and kept him as a pet.”
Every eye turned on Willow, and she lifted her hands up. “I have a really bad case of rhinitis. And he’s rather large for a pet.”
Arthur crouched beside it. “None of these things are stupid enough to attack a vampire when they’re without their pack.”
Henry leaned over it next. “What’s wrong with it?”
Everyone turned to my wife when she loudly cleared her throat a few times, standing there with her hands politely crossed over her lap. Lifting a lithe, pale finger, she pointed at the dead lycan. “Can I have a look?”
“He stinks,” one of my soldiers said, sending me a few bewildered glances after Willow’s odd request.
“Oh, I don’t think the poor creature cares about offending my senses anymore, he’s very dead,” my young wife said, marching towards the lycan without even waiting for an answer to her question.
My men created a berth around her as her fingers skimmed the creature’s naked arms, pressing two of her fingers in certain points. “Something is in his system. His alchemical nodes are inflamed.”
I grabbed her hand before she touched his mouth lined with long teeth. “If one of them pricks you, the venom they are coated in will turn you in an instant.”
“I know. But did you know that if you hold me any tighter, my wrist will pop off?” she asked, making a popping sound with her mouth and then winking at me.
What the Hell was wrong with this witch?
She smiled with all her teeth when I let go of her. Bracing both hands on the muddy ground, she leaned over his head, narrowing her dark eyes on the gun hole between his brows.
With a frown, she turned its head to the side. “Is that…a bite?”
Henry’s face gathered in a grimace. “What idiot would feed from a lycan?”
Arthur’s eyes widened with realisation, meeting mine in the distance as he slowly lifted his rifle and aimed it at the dark forest starting to stir again; trees rustled, the ground beneath us vibrated, and a foul, nauseating scent turned the air choking.
“Move away from him,” I ordered my men, hauling my wife up by her waist and pulling back. “Now!”
The forest crown parted in half as a vampire dropped on one of my soldiers, ripping his throat apart.
Multiple rounds of bullets tore holes through his body, shattering bone and muscle to bits.
But despite the perforated body leaking blood all over the leafy forest floor, the vampire kept advancing in our direction—eyes wild and milky pale.
“Fire!” Arthur shouted, loading more cartridges into his rifle. “Someone light some bloody fucking fire.”
And then the dead soldier’s body started contracting, bones and limbs locking and cracking as he pushed up on a twisted hand and rose to his feet. My soldier shrieked, mouth full of blood as it zeroed in on my wife’s direction. The moment I pulled her behind me, he lunged.
Bullets tore though his body seconds before his skin lit on fire.
“Darknest of night, fires of might,” Willow quickly chanted, twisting a piece of yarn between two fingers into what looked like the shape of a star. “Circles of light, fires of fright.”
The rage-infested vampires let out agonising shrieks as they burnt down, their bodies slowly curling and shrinking into themselves as they both drew one final breath and dropped to their knees, turning to ash. The nightmare had just ended, but another one was about to start.
“Fuck,” Henry spat, shaking his jacket off and grabbing leaves to wipe his hands.
Everyone followed, taking their jackets off and grabbing the bottles of liquor from the back of the carriage to wash their hands with.
“What was that?” Willow asked as I pulled her scarf and my jacket off to throw in the fire.