7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Steig
One day ago
Steig sat alone in the forest, staring at the sad, dwindling fire, waiting for his companions to return.
They’d been on the outskirts of the Auster Coven for nearly a week, with no sign of Ena, Ty, or Turner.
Steig was convinced that they had moved on already, but unfortunately, as the daemon with the most mission experience, Gunnar had assumed command, and the man refused to leave without a lead on where Ty was.
So here Steig was, cold and alone, waiting for the Underworld’s two biggest assholes to return after their fifth consecutive day of reconnaissance.
They’d each gone into the Coven separately under different aliases, posing as mortal villagers.
As the leader of their group, Gunnar had been the one to speak with the soon-to-be matriarch about a potential trade, and he and Chans had been sent to speak with the other travelers, but no one had seen a man with tattoos like theirs, nor had anyone heard from Ena since her disappearance months ago.
But unfortunately, Gunnar wouldn’t let them move on until they had something to go on.
In all honesty, he didn’t completely blame the man—they both knew Cole would rage if they returned without progress.
So basically, Steig wouldn’t be able to return to the Underworld—to Lara and his family—without something to go on.
He tried hard to keep Lara from his mind, though.
Anytime his thoughts drifted to her, he felt a melancholy wash over him that was hard to snap out of.
It was hard not to loathe everything about where he was and why, but he got increasingly resentful when he let himself dwell on how much he missed her and the kids.
His head whipped towards the sounds of approaching footsteps to find Gunnar and Chans emerging through the dense pine trees.
“Steig, report,” Gunnar barked, not even bothering to greet him first.
The man’s crooked nose and disagreeable face automatically made Steig scowl, but he tried to keep his cool. He knew Gunnar would describe his every move to Cole upon their return.
Steig cleared his throat and spoke. “Still no sign of them. I spoke to the new influx of Tyndell travelers, and a witch I met down by the river. None of them gave any indication that they’d seen the witch or Ty and Turner.”
Gunnar growled, frustration evident on his stupid face.
“I hate to say it, Gunnar, but maybe they have moved on. Or maybe they were never here at all. We should widen our search,” Chans said, even-keeled. He had always been the smarter of the two.
“No,” Gunnar spoke sharply. “This is where the king told us to look, and leaving with our tails between our legs is not serving Iblis, or Cole. I have a different plan.”
“What’s that?” Chans asked.
“I heard the witches are hosting an important ritual tomorrow, inducting the new matriarch. They’ll all be gathered together in the Sacred Grove. I say we try a different, more violent approach.” Gunnar grinned at them both, as if expecting them to revel in his idiotic plan immediately.
“You can’t be serious,” Steig chimed in, attempting to stop this foolhardy plan before it went any further. “Attack them while they’re all gathered together? Are you insane? What do you hope to gain from that?”
Gunnar was clearly insane, so the question was rhetorical, but still, there was no way Steig was risking his life for Gunnar’s fool’s errand.
“Are you questioning me?” Gunnar asked, taking a menacing step closer. He was a couple inches taller than Steig, and bulkier too, but Steig didn’t care.
“Yes,” Steig said, not backing down. “You’re not my king, and your plan will get us all killed.”
“Their magic works no better on us than ours does on them. We’ll have the upper hand with our speed and strength,” Gunnar spat in his face.
“We go in, demand to know where Ty’s witch is—because wherever she is, he won’t be far behind—and start killing if they don’t tell us.
There’s no way they don’t know. Witches are conniving, and the only way to defeat them is with chaos.
This is Iblis’s way—or have you forgotten, Steig? ”
Steig hadn’t forgotten—he couldn’t. One did not live their entire life beholden to one God and forget how to serve him—although he had to admit, his newfound sense of Gaia did sometimes…
confuse him. But regardless, he didn’t want Gunnar and Chans to find Ena and Ty anyway, let alone hurt a bunch of witches to do it.
He didn’t necessarily like witches, but being around Ena for so long, he’d realized they weren’t all bad.
And one of them was Ena’s sister—he remembered her talking about her a couple times.
The future matriarch of this Coven. It just didn’t feel right to harm them without direct cause.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Steig ground out, keeping his more controversial thoughts to himself.
“Good,” Gunnar retorted. “What do you think, Chans? Should we give these witches what they truly deserve?”
Chans tapped his nonexistent chin, his beady, ratlike eyes looking down as he contemplated. “I loathe their kind as much as you do, Gunnar, but we have to be smart here. Steig is right—we can’t just go in and start slicing them down. We need a hostage if they’re going to talk.”
Gunnar seemed to contemplate that, backing off a bit as he forced his slow, pea-sized brain to think his plan through a bit more. Before he had the chance, though, Chans chimed in again.
“There’s a young witch in the Coven that’s ill with a fever.
They offered me some fever-reducing potions in trade, said they had extra on hand from a recently made batch.
I’m betting she might be sick enough to skip the ceremony tomorrow, so maybe…
we grab her while everyone is gone. Use her to our advantage.
They’ll have to act to save their own, right? They’ll tell us what we want to know.”
Iblis, their plan was fucking idiotic. Did they not realize what witches could do?
Steig had heard of the way the Occidens witches had captured Ty and Ena, despite their magic not working directly on Ty.
They could create a windstorm, open a crevice in the earth, start a forest fire—any number of things that could cause their plan to go awry.
But, of course, most daemons—himself, Gunnar, and Chans included—had never been in a direct altercation with a witch before.
Daemonic attacks were always intentionally more… insidious.
Steig opened his mouth to tell them all this, urge them not to underestimate the witches, even though his efforts would probably be futile, but then a thought occurred to him.
Maybe he could use this to his advantage.
Cole would keep sending him, Gunnar, and Chans after Ty and Ena until they were found—they’d been told as much. If they went back to the Underworld without a lead, Cole would be displeased, hence why Gunnar and Chans were so desperate to find one.
But as much as Steig wanted to return, he also did not want Ty and Ena captured and at Cole’s mercy. He could never do that to them.
So maybe, just maybe, this was his chance.
If he could somehow get to the matriarch, Ena’s sister, during the chaos of whatever Gunnar and Chans had planned, maybe he could give her a message.
Let her know that Cole was sending daemons after Ty and Ena, and if she had any sort of contact with them, to let them know that Steig was with them, and was on their side.
Maybe together, they could figure out a way out of this… for everyone.
So Steig kept his mouth shut and nodded as if he agreed with the two dumbest bastards this side of the Chasm Mountains. He would let chaos reign and see if something good could come out the other side.
***
Present day
Steig stood at the edge of the dark forest, the hugest evergreen trees he’d ever seen surrounding him—dwarfing him like a child.
In front of him stood over two dozen witches of all ages, staring with a mixture of shock, fear, and anger on their faces as Gunnar held the young, squirming witch in his meaty arms, his threat hanging in the air.
In the center of the witches’ sacred circle stood the new matriarch, her pale-blonde hair glowing in the firelight, her face determined and cautious. She was the one he needed to get to—somehow.
“If you threaten one of our own, daemon, know that you will pay, regardless of the past and what debts may be owed your kind,” she said, her voice steady and calm. “Let her go.”
“Tell us where the witch Ena is, and her daemon companions, and we’ll let the witch live,” Gunnar said, his voice filled with bloodlust, even as his words promised leniency.
“Do not test us, daemon,” the matriarch said loudly. “You know not what we’re capable of when threatened. Release the girl and I will speak with you. Alone.”
Beside him, Chans’ snickering laugh rang out across the silent space. “We won’t fall for your tricks, witch. Tell us here—now—or we’ll slit her throat in front of you.”
“Please!” a woman’s voice echoed around the grove. By the look of utter despair on her face, Steig guessed she was the girl’s mother. “We don’t know where she is! Let my daughter go, please!”
Ena’s sister ignored the crying mother and spoke again. “Do you refuse to entreat with me?” she asked them.
“Never,” Gunnar spat. “We do this on our terms, not yours.”
“So be it,” she said, looking around as if conflicted with what she was about to say.
Then she spoke.
{Aeris}
A gust of wind unlike any he’d felt before rushed towards the three of them, causing them to stumble backwards. But daemons were no mere mortals—their strength caused them to take a few steps back, but they did not fall down, nor did Gunnar lose his grip on the girl.
Chans removed his short swords from where they were strapped to his back, preparing to fight.
“Take the children!” the matriarch called to the witches. Mothers and fathers with young children bundled them up, fleeing into the woods around the grove as the panic spread.