21. The Clearing
Chapter 21
The Clearing
T he next day, the market smells exactly the same. That nature-y, herby scent that I’ve begun to associate with witches.
Witches like their damn herbs.
There are fewer stalls this week, but not by many. It seems as though some business owners rotate out depending on what they have available.
Unlike last time, I stay by Grandma’s side as we meander past the people going about their days. She walks through and the crowd parts almost unconsciously.
Apparently she acts like a queen everywhere, not just with me and Laura.
A group of kids bowls past us, one rebellious little troublemaker directing at the front. The four of them weave through the crowd with a practiced ease that screams familiarity. They’ve been in these crowds for their entire lives.
“Carter, stay within the barriers!” a woman calls after them from her booth. With that she turns back to her customer, seemingly unbothered.
My heart pangs. Even before Dad died, I don’t remember coming to the market. Would Laura and I have grown up running through the legs of other witches if my mother had allowed it?
Grandma swats my hand lightly. “Keep up!”
I divert my gaze from the children and follow her to a stand with a woman selling specialty tea. The two of them duck heads and are instantly cackling like old hags. I roll my eyes with a fond smile.
“Carter?”
I turn back to the woman. Her eyes scan the crowd for the children. They’re nowhere to be seen.
“Give me a moment, Grandma.” I pat her on the shoulder and walk in the direction the children went earlier.
The wind whips hair across my face as I pass through the people, looking for any trace of the group. I run out of stalls soon enough.
I have to be close to the barrier at this point. It’s invisible, but the magic is palpable. The barrier itself is some sort of ancient magic to repel humans and evil intentions.
The field has entirely run out and I’m standing at the edge of a dark forest. The kids wouldn’t leave the barrier, would they? They couldn’t have been older than ten, so not rebellious teenagers looking for danger.
A chill travels down my spine as I watch the darkness underneath the canopy of leaves. There couldn’t be danger out there, could there? I look back toward the market.
I could very easily grab Grandma, tell her that—what? I have a feeling ? That something in my gut is screaming at me to find those kids before something awful happens?
I turn back to the trees. The wind whispers through the leaves with an ominous whine.
I step forward.
Where’s the person throwing popcorn at me, telling me to get out of here? I could really use that person.
Leaves crunch underfoot as I walk as softly as I can manage. The world darkens with each step, the air closing in on me until there’s no sound at all.
Not an owl, a squirrel...Hell, I’d take a rat right now.
The silence follows me like a bubble, encasing me in nothingness as I keep moving forward. Can I turn back yet?
No. Not yet.
A branch breaks.
My head perks up, turning toward the sound. It’s to my left, off the path. Please tell me these kids aren’t dumb enough to go off the path in a creepy-ass forest.
I turn and tip-toe until...Oh, shit. I duck behind a tree and peek.
In a small clearing is a child—Carter, I believe—and what is that?
A hulking creature with long, sharp horns looms over the child. It’s swathed in a thick black cloak that conceals most of its body, but I see the flash of claws in the dim light.
The poor dear has the nerve to stare right back at it. Whatever it is.
I could go get Grandma. I should get Grandma. But my feet are rooted to the spot.
Where are the other children? I flick my gaze over the trees and—there! A pink sneaker pokes out from behind one. They haven’t abandoned their friend.
I have to respect that, despite the fact at least one of them should’ve run back to the market.
Okay, Hazel. How are we handling this? I’m the only adult in the vicinity and despite me probably being less trained than these little kids, I can’t let them get hurt.
With a deep breath, I step out from the tree line. “It’s time to go, Carter.”
Maybe I can convince this daemon I know what the hell I’m doing. I assume it’s a daemon, I have no idea.
That’s not comforting.
A dark, twisted laugh escapes the creature. It turns to me, red eyes burning into my skin. “We’re simply playing, sister. Are you here to join us?”
The thing’s fangs glint in the sliver of sunlight breaking through the canopy above us. Long and bright white.
Cool.
I’m super dead.
I gesture to the child, waving him over to me. If I can get him behind me, maybe he can get away and get help. Real help. Not whatever I am.
Carter makes a break for it and the daemon allows it, a twisted smile on its leathery skin. It’s difficult to see, with the shadows of the trees playing across its face.
“I would much rather play with you, anyway, sister.” It holds a hand up to me, a snake slithering along its palm.
Oh I am royally screwed. Royally. Screwed.
“Go,” I whisper.
The sound of running feet fills the space and I exhale. Probably prematurely. But at least they got away.
“A Pruitt witch approaches and doesn’t have the decency to say hello?” it continues. “No introduction?”
He knows who I am? Why do I feel like I’ve walked right into a trap? It’s not even funny how out of my depth I am.
I channel my inner Laura. False confidence is better than none at all.
“I’m Hazel.” I step fully into the clearing. “And yourself?”
“Botis. I was hoping to run into you.”
Botis. Daemon.
The name that I’ve been obsessing over for a week, and here he is.
I wanted time. Time to learn how to defend myself, to learn how to defeat a creature like this. To learn how to get information out of daemons. Because there is a chance—albeit a small one—that this thing knows what killed my dad. I had a plan and now it’s all gone to absolute shit.
Grandma’s meditation techniques go through my head. I can’t have a panic attack about how I wanted things to go and how I’m going to die right now.
“I’ve heard of you.”
The grin on his face spreads, fangs practically jumping out of his mouth. “You flatter me, Hazel.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t my intention.” Hell, yeah. There’s that false bravado.
Strong arms cross against his chest, claws poking out of his long, black sleeves. “You snap like an animal caught in a trap.”
“Only one of us kidnaps children, so who is the real animal here?”
A stinging slash as bright as the sun breaks against my cheek, pain following immediately after. He hasn’t moved an inch, yet hot droplets of blood roll down my skin.
“You talk too much,” he growls. His voice is an evil mix of animalistic growl and human lilt. “An unfortunate trait you witches tend to share.”
Yes, I’m buying time, asshole. My hand touches my cheek and I wince. The cut is deep.
“I can honestly say that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of that.”
“I have a message for the Pruitt witches.”
“And here I have nothing for you in return. How rude of me.” My entire being is vibrating with the knowledge that I’m going to die right now.
“I don’t mind, sister. Besides...” A sickening, face-splitting grin breaks on his face. “The message isn’t for you. You are the message.”
Oh, shit.
I close my eyes as my entire body slams against a tree. Pain splinters from my back down every single nerve. I’m held aloft against the tree as if pinned by a thousand nails.
I open my eyes to the sound of boots crunching across the leafy bed of the clearing. He approaches, red eyes blazing with the promise of exactly what he’s going to do with me.
I don’t expect mercy.
“No words now? No smart comments?” He tsk s. “So disappointing.”
“Let me down and I’ll tell you exactly what I think about you.” Blood drips from my mouth, spotting the leaves below.
He chuckles. It’s the confident chuckle of someone who enjoys playing with their food—and lucky for me, I’m the meal.
One sharpened talon trails along the exposed skin at my navel where my shirt rode up. It’s like a fancy knife, so sharp the slice doesn’t start to bleed until a few seconds after. The snake’s tongue gently flickers at a droplet.
“There’s a beauty in marring skin with no scars.”
“What do you hope to accomplish by killing me? You’ll only piss off a bunch of powerful women who will kick your ass.”
He laughs. “I doubt they’ll ever find me. I’m doing this...Well, because I was asked to, and it was too tempting an offer to refuse. This quarrel isn’t mine. I have no intention of sticking around for the aftermath.”
“You’re someone’s errand boy? I should’ve known. You don’t have main character energy.” If I’m going to die, I’m going to piss him off enough that he makes it quick.
His talon slices in a thin line down my right arm—straight through the vein, if the blood gushing out is any indication.
My head is lighter and I don’t know if it’s spinning or if the earth is moving a bit faster. The taste of blood is metallic on my tongue.
“Draven was right about you lot. Talkative, cocky, and weak.”
Draven? Who is Draven?
“Draven the one who pulls your strings?” My voice is tired. My eyelids are heavy but I force them open.
“Draven—” his voice drops and he gets right in my face. The stench of blood lingers on his breath, “—is the one who will destroy your entire family. Too bad you won’t live to see it.”
My body flies off the tree and slams back into it. Pain blooms at the back of my head.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
“Hazel!”
Mom?
The world goes black.