Chapter Twenty-Three
Willow
The road to hell was paved with good intentions.
I remembered reading the quote somewhere, and it stuck as a mantra of sorts whenever I needed to pat myself on the back for doing something undeniably wicked.
Not because it reminded me of the eternity of hell awaiting me—I found the notion hilarious—but because I would drag the do-gooders down to hell with me.
And so I marched at the top of the hill, prepared to make the shadow idiot’s life a living hell so that he would regret keeping me here.
My powers hadn’t come back yet. It troubled me immensely because how long could a girl like me remain powerless? So many lessons needed to be taught, I was beginning to lose track. Perhaps I had to get myself a journal and keep a record.
‘Come to mummy,’ I said as I cut the weird thing near its thick base. It oozed a slimy substance, and I made sure not to touch it.
Witchcraft wasn’t necessary to sense when shit was hazardous.
But what was life without danger? I would rather keel over than let that dark, loathsome waste of space dictate my fate. The way he crafted an illusion in his head of overseeing me suggested problems deeper than mere idiocy, but that wasn’t my problem to bear.
Though perhaps it would be of benefit to everyone to simply… put the fucker down. Slowly, if I felt generous. If I could do so violently, that would serve as great compensation for my recent struggles.
I was beginning to think having to live among these people was some sort of karma—a cosmic way to right the wrongs once the realm realised one person had the fun of ten. And oh, at times I did… or should I say with?
Either way, it seemed I wouldn’t get free until I paid my dues.
But the Gods knew me, the nature goddesses crafted me in this way for a purpose.
I was a being of pleasure and pain and nothing in between, and since neither of them deserved a modicum of satisfaction, I was on my way to deliver what I did best.
Hopping between different formations of the luminescent fungi, I hummed a seductive note I had learnt from a siren on our most northern coast. It relaxed me and made my conquests lose inhibitions.
The last Ortensian male I slept with and sang for offered his generational wealth for a chance at a duel with my future fiancé. Though I laughed in his face, I quite enjoyed the sentiment, even if I would never uphold the archaic custom.
The truth was, men were such deeply pathetic creatures that women began treating them as equals out of pity.
They responded well to my pleasure-and-pain approach because that’s how their simplistic brains functioned.
Black and white and nothing in between, forever lost to nuance and more profound meanings of life.
It was precisely why the king of this shithole and his Gods-damned son would curse the day they forced my hand.
Trotting back with a satchel full of mysterious mushrooms, I nearly gagged, noting the trail of mucus that dripped behind me along the way. How could they even produce that much?
Planting them back into the soil in such a way that they spelled Asshole overlooking the massive dining room window, I knew just what to do to help them grow.
Normally, I would use my witchcraft, but the current predisposition forced me to go slightly old-fashioned. Using a needle I swiped from the house help, I pricked my middle finger, since it’s all he deserved.
Making sure to spread the droplets evenly over the fungi, I watched, fascinated, as they sprung back to life, glowing stronger than even before I disturbed them.
Giggles tickled my throat as I struggled to force myself to quiet once I reached the front door. It was thick and heavy, just like its owners. Slowing and quieting down wasn’t because I was afraid—it was because getting caught wasn’t on my to-do list, and it would ruin the nasty surprise.
Finishing what I started cost me several more droplets of crimson life force, but what can one accomplish without sacrifice?
Women kept sacrificing pieces of themselves daily anyway; I justified my actions as I let it flow.
The sense of accomplishment at watching my plan come to fruition was priceless. Though it dulled at the sharp ache of my insubordinate stomach. Making sure the coast was clear, I headed toward the room that usually bustled with life and was now deliciously peaceful.
The sharp yellow light of the refrigerator illuminated numerous vegetarian-safe options. Without a doubt, these were for Ava. Her lack of originality was pathetic at best and irksome at worst. I decided to change my diet one day, and what happened mere weeks later? So did the annoying shit.
Not to mention her eagerness for other kinds of my leftovers.
Avari’s scream tore through the manor, giving me a fright. I nearly dropped my salad.
Fuck’s sake, there was always something wrong with that girl.
A hollow thud followed suit, and loud footsteps rushed somewhere upstairs. Were we under attack? If we were, I hoped the shadow cretin sacrificed himself whilst defending us, though it would mean I wouldn’t get to see his reaction to step one of my revenge. And that was a shame.
I remained focused on my food and then dessert before slowly heading back upstairs, looking out for trouble.
The room they gave me was bleak, bland, and tasteless, utterly lacking in basic amenities.
Tossing myself onto the massive bed, I shrieked as a toad jumped out from behind one of the pillows. ‘What are you?’
It was black and smoky at the edges, like its shape was only temporary and could dissolve into a cloud of inky shadows any moment.
‘Are you a spy for that fuckwit?’ I hissed, pointing a finger in his face. ‘Or are you a friend? I must warn you, how you fare here will depend on your answer.’
It croaked loudly as I snatched it into my palm to assess its odd nature. ‘Not much of a talker? Figures. Best company I’ve had all day.’
More croaks.
There was something about it that resonated with me. It writhed in my hand, trying to set itself free, clearly distressed. It sensed a predator—perhaps it was the one sane being in this house.
‘Okay then, you can stay but only because you at least don’t speak foolishly,’ I responded, looking into its black beady eyes.
Setting it down on the floor, I covered myself with the bedding, feeling a sense of accomplishment. What I had done today was only the beginning of what I had in store for these people.
The frog jumped around, smacking into furniture all night, disturbing my sleep. It was clueless to consequences or logic and kept banging into a mirror until eventually, upon taking several calming breaths, I snatched it from the ground and locked it in a cupboard.
The plan was great until it started banging into the wooden sides, creating a ruckus like no other. ‘Oh for the love of…’
I opened the cupboard, and it sat there, seemingly happy to see me. ‘Do you have a brain?’ I asked, not expecting a response anymore. ‘Just lay here and sleep, or I will throw your ass out of the window.’
There was a toad in my bed, but I’d be lying if I said it was the strangest thing I’d slept with.
This week couldn’t get any weirder.