Chapter 8
Iwas tempted to let her hit the ground, but I refrained from being that much of a dick. Though it didn’t stop me from restraining her further and shoving her into the trunk of the car I stole from the hotel lot. She stayed out cold the entire drive back to said place.
I’m not entirely sure what her kind is, to be honest. I may be old, but I haven’t made it a mission to study every damn creature walking this planet. Up until last week, I didn’t even know there was another type of Witch.
What got me was how the officers and the warden lost their shit the moment she said Vendra’s name—one of the Divine Twelve. When she said it again during the oath, I remembered to be careful.
Though, strange as it sounds I was looking right at her, and I didn’t see her lips move when the word came out.
Yet another thing about her that makes no damn sense.
Rinsing the last of the soap from my body, I let the water run a little longer before stepping out. There’s blood everywhere; the trash cans already full of pieces of flesh found in my hair, and what didn’t go down the drain will have to be dumped at the wasteyard tomorrow.
After brushing my teeth, I throw on a pair of boxers and sweatpants.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I see a bare streak of skin now cutting across my right pec, straight through one of the three heads of my Cerberus tattoo.
I’ll need to get this touched up.
That damn warden surprised me—quicker than a Mundane should’ve been.
That’s what I get for checking the dead.
Or not so dead.
He’d gone for my neck. Good attempt on his part, and I can’t even call it stupid because it got him a swift death; zero suffering.
Stepping back from the mirror, I leave the bathroom. The TV’s still playing the white noise I’d left on just in case the little Witch decided to wake up and start screaming while I was in the shower.
I’m not caught off guard often. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was. So the fact I am right now is an incredible feat. I hadn’t heard her wake. Not a breath. Not even a mere shuffling of her feet.
She’s quiet. Too quiet.
One second, I’m stepping out of the bathroom.
The next, her lithe body slams into me.
Smart move, honestly. She times it perfectly, catching me mid-step. I try to brace, but her momentum’s got me, and the both of us tumble.
My hip slams into the floor as her body crashes down on top of mine.
“Oof—” I grunt, reaching for her waist.
Her hand swats away my wrist, sharp and fast. I snarl—not from pain, but from the sheer inconvenience of it.
Then something cold presses against the side of my neck.
Shifting my gaze, I follow the line of her arm until it disappears from view, right at the point where I can feel the object digging into my throat.
In this moment, I realize that she’s also no longer bound. I’m both curious and furious about how the Beyond that happened.
“This is real cute, Witch,” I mutter, keeping my voice low. “But you won’t be able to decapitate me with that… Is that a butter knife?”
“Fuck you,” she seethes.
I look up at her. Her long white hair falls forward, framing her face, and those piercing violet eyes burn straight through me.
“Why did you knock me out?!”
“How’d you get the cuffs off?” I shoot back.
She tuts with a sharp, bitter edge. “I came with you! I promised to give you what you wanted! Why, Vampire?!”
Alright, enough of this.
The moment I reach for her, she rolls back fast.
Like she knew I was coming for her.
She scrambles to her feet just as I do. Her wrists are raw, bruised, red, and bleeding. Guess she squeezed out of the cuffs. Had I really been in the shower that damn long?
“Why?!”
I suck a sharp breath through my nose and tilt my head. “I don’t trust you not to… do something stupid. Like try to kill me.”
Her mouth drops open, shock flashing across her face. “Are you kidding me?! You did that on some presumption that I’d—oh my Gods!”
“Do you really blame me?”
“Yes!”
She grabs the nearest thing, which so happened to be the TV remote, and throws it at my face. I dodge easily, letting it smack against the hotel door behind me with a loud thump.
“Fucking Vampires.”
“Where’d you get the knife anyway? I didn’t order room service…” I muse.
“I’ve done nothing to warrant your mistrust!”
“You did seven years ago.”
That stops her cold. The color drains from her face, and the faint darkness under her eyes seems to deepen.
“Oh yeah,” I add, voice low. “Did you forget you’re a fucking child murderer, slayer?”
Her voice comes out small. “It’s been… seven years?”
That makes me pause. She doesn’t know?
When she shakes her head and looks down, something in my chest twists—not sympathy, I refuse to feel that for her. It’s just curiosity.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “Seven years since you killed hundreds. Including children.”
Her eyes lift, and I brace for the denial, the excuses, the tears.
Instead, she says quietly, “I remember. Just surprised it’s only been that long. Feels like longer.”
She wraps her arms around her waist and turns away. That’s when I notice how thin she really is—the prison gown hanging off her like it’s swallowing her whole. Malnourished, fragile-looking… But considering she took me off my feet, she’s not as weak as she looks.
“You need to shower,” I say flatly. “I can’t have you smelling like shit. It’ll bug me.”
“Fucking asshole.”
“Wow, that’s bold of you.” I let the words hang. “I could snap your neck without a thought. I’ve honestly contemplated it, given what you did. But lucky for you, I need you.”
She gives an unamused groan and a dry laugh. “Right… Whatever.”
“It’s not whatever. It is what it is.”
“Okay, grandpa.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll get cleaned up. Do you have any spare clothes?”
“We’re leaving tomorrow to put some distance between us and your cell. We can grab you something then. In the meantime, you’ll borrow a shirt.” I move through the room, careful not to touch her, and unzip my duffel.
“Why tomorrow? Can’t we just leave after I’ve cleaned up?”
“Don’t you want some sleep?”
“I slept enough with that knockout you gave me,” she snarls, irritation clear. “Besides, I must’ve been out for hours. It looks like midday. We can go now and get this over with.”
I pull out a black T-shirt, yank the bag closed, and step back to her. “This’ll work like a dress. I’ll burn it when you’re done.”
She huffs and starts toward the bathroom. Her head snaps back; she looks down at my feet and I follow her gaze. A solid clump of white hair lies under my bare foot.
She gathers it up with a long, hollow sigh. “I’m guessing you don’t carry scissors.”
“Nope.”
A sound escapes her—something akin to sadness—and for no reason I can name, it presses at my chest. “I know you’re dying to mutilate me,” she says, and I have no idea why it pisses me off.
“Tear my hair, please.” She sweeps the thick white mane into her hands and brings it down to the middle of her back. “Here.”
I narrow my eyes before grabbing beneath her hands with one hand, and with the other, I take a fistful lower down. “Let me ask you something.”
She clutches the shirt to her chest. “The answer is yes.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
Her chin lifts, defiance in her indigo eyes. “You’re going to ask if I did it.”
My jaw tightens. “And your answer is yes?”
There’s only a moment of hesitation before she says, “I’m guilty, Butcher.”
I feel my pulse thud in my temples, my nostrils flaring. Then, I pull hard, tearing several feet of her hair free.
Amarah sniffled most of the time she was in the shower. I couldn’t tell if she was full-blown crying or not, and even with the television volume cranked as high as it would go, I could still hear her.
I’m too empathetic for this. I shouldn’t feel bad in the slightest, and yet my heart’s trying to. My brain—while not the brightest of my internal organs—is the smartest one in this moment. It knows what she’s capable of.
I’d spent time researching the incident before breaking her out. Absolutely tragic. And regardless of my so-called big heart, I need to… keep my head on straight…
Motherfucker.
She’s stepping out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel twisted on top of her head, and drowning in my shirt. That’s hot. Not her, I mean, the presentation of…
Her eyes lift and narrow on me.
I’m surprised she kept the long sleeves of the shirt she wore under the gown.
There’s no dirt on her face now, and where I thought some of the freckles might’ve been smudges, they aren’t. The scar across her nose is redder than before, and now I can see the smaller ones tracing her jawline. They’re faint, but visible from here, even sitting on the bed several feet away.
“Can I borrow some boxers?”
I glance down at her legs, covered in hair up to her knees where my shirt begins.
“You put your dirty undershirt on, but won’t put your underwear back on?”
Her jaw ticks and her cheeks flush. “Never mind. Let’s just go.”
“I’m watching the game.” I jest, and she leans over to check the television, where the news is on. “We can’t rush out of here. Sit down and we will go shortly.”
“Fine,” she huffs, leaning against the bathroom door. “Who are we looking for?”
“That’s none of your business. You can meet this person when we find them.”
A sharp, irritated tut slips from her. “Alright… Can you explain why you needed me to help you locate someone? Location spells aren’t difficult, a Hexborn could have assisted with enough money. Or… you know… the authorities.”
“So eager to be hurt,” I say, my voice lowering. I want her to understand before it’s too late, that her tone won’t make this easier on her. “Trust me, not many can do what I need you to do for me.”
“And that is…”
I clear my throat. “You can’t go back on that blood bind, right?”
“No…” She sounds apprehensive. “Why?”
Weighing my options, I look at the TV and hum. Telling her immediately shouldn’t be a problem, but she could make this harder and try to fight.
I guess worst case scenario, I’ll sling her over my shoulder and drag her along. Annoying, but I’ll get what I need.
“I need you to open the gates to the Beyond for me.”
The thud of her heart drowns out the newscaster. When I look back, her face has drained even paler than before, her freckles seeming to vanish along with the color.
“Okay…” That surprises me, until she continues, of course. “You’ve lost your mind. Either that, or your joke didn’t hit. You seem like a funny guy, so I’m surprised you delivered that so poorly.”
I shift my legs off the bed and stand. “I’m not joking. You’ll open the gates—”
She bursts out in laughter, cutting me off. “You’re suicidal! No, I can’t do that.”
“The person I’m looking for is in the Beyond, you have to.”
Her mouth drops open as she shakes her head. “Oh my Gods, I’ve been kidnapped by a crazy person.”
I roll my eyes. “I’d classify me as your savior for taking you away from that dreaded place, but whatever you say, little slayer.”
“Stop calling me that. Do you understand the laws of our worlds?” She shifts, her gaze dropping to the door behind her before coming back to me.
“You don’t look too smart, so I’m guessing not.
But regardless, I haven’t channeled in seven years.
Do you know how much power Vendra will have to grant me to do that? ”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Also, did you just call me stupid?”
“If the person you’re looking for is in the Beyond, Butcher, they are dead.”
“They aren’t,” I quickly interject.
“I can’t bring people back to life!” She’s literally screaming now, hands stabbing downward for emphasis. “Mortal bodies weren’t meant to go into the Beyond. You’ll die, and… and then…”
This must be about that stupid blood thing.
“Then let me kill whoever you want me to first to satisfy my end of this deal.”
She shakes her head. “That isn’t how it works. It has to be fulfilled in the order of request. You asked me for help and I agreed on a condition.”
“Fucking RULES!” I seethe. “Whatever, you have to help me. You’ll open the gate.
I don’t plan on dying… Also—” I close the distance in a step and slam her against the door; her knee snaps up and connects with my thigh.
I shift quickly to protect my jewels. “Disrespect me again, and I will hurt you.”
Squeezing her throat just enough to cut off her air, she swings a fist up to my jaw. I flinch—not because the hit that landed hurt, but because the force in it should be impossible for someone who looks so fragile.
Then she spits on me.
She fucking spits on me.
Using the last of her breath, she wheezes, “Fuck… you… Butcher.”
I tut and release her throat. “You wish.”