“I needed to wait until you left your nest,” Will says.
I frown. “But the others—”
“I have no concern for them.”
“They’re my family,” I say, hurt by his confession.
“Just because they made you doesn’t mean you’re indebted to them. Leave with me.” He trails his fingers along my jawline, rubs his thumb gently in the divot of my chin, and angles my head toward his.
Time seems to slow as he waits for my response, but I’ve fallen mute. I don’t want to leave the vampires, but something inside me needs Will to stay. I yearn for him in ways I don’t desire Jasik. Will can offer me something my sire cannot: answers.
Chapter Eight
Witches are strange creatures. Blinded by an unspoken camaraderie, they protect each other, even if they aren’t part of the same coven, even if they don’t understand what’s right, what’s wrong. Being stubborn and headstrong, I succeeded in that life. Prejudice was instilled at birth, and I asked no questions. I believed everything I was told. It’s taken everything I have to break free from the beliefs rooted deep within my soul.
I’ve liberated myself from all save one—my desire to protect those who cannot protect themselves. When I transitioned, I promised myself I would not hurt a mortal. I would not drink from humans, and I would protect Darkhaven from vampires far more terrifying than anything the witches could conjure.
I thought the moment I consciously chose to forsake my upbringing and choose my vampire allies over those who gave me my life’s blood would be earth-shattering.
It wasn’t.
It was just another day. The sun rose, the sun set, and now those very witches I actively protected from the fiends they fear are forcing me to choose yet again.
I sense their approach, and from the twitch in Will’s eye, he does too. Frozen in time, I listen as they chant, knowing full well how powerful a coven can be.
I blink, and everything changes.
I’m assaulted by a force so powerful, I’m thrown backward. No longer staring into Will’s eyes, silently begging him to stay a little longer, I’m watching the world fly by in a blur. I slam against a tree, my head smacking the thick, frozen trunk. Stars dance in my head, and my neck burns at the impact. The thick, slow ooze of blood seeps down the back of my skull, and I fall to a heap at the base of the tree.
The smell of blood—my blood—clouds my judgment. It coats the air in its tantalizing fragrance and makes my stomach grumble. I lick my lips and blink away the pain. My vision is blurred, so I wipe at my eyes.
As several figures approach, I ignore the trickling of blood that tickles the back of my neck. It’s harder to ignore my splitting headache. My body is shrieking at me, screaming in agony.
I grunt, struggling to stand, and I am forced back down again by the invisible magic. These are air witches. Air might be one of the weaker elements—compared to fire—but it is useful at keeping targets distracted.
The force pinning me down is strong, and I worry it’s far stronger than me. I fight against it, pushing to stand. My legs burn, and their magic pushes me down harder.
I sink into the frozen earth. An ache works its way through my muscles, settling deep into my bones. Finally, exhausted and gasping for breath, I relent. No longer fighting, I sit back, resting my head against the tree. The bark is jagged and cold. I wince when it scrapes against my wound.
Four witches stand before me, forming a half circle around me and using their magic to pin me to the tree and the ground. I don’t know their faces, but that doesn’t matter. My war against my former coven is now theirs to bear. The irony of this pointless feud is the loss of so many innocent lives—which the witches claim to protect.
I glance past them and stare into the distance. More witches emerge from the shadows, and all fight Will. My heart races as he dodges a fireball. Blasts of air like daggers in the wind shred through his torso, and he cries out in agony.
I call to him, and the witches cocooning me lash out. When I’m silent and obedient, they halt their attack, as if they aren’t truly interested in me at all. It is clear that their target is Will, and unfortunately for them, he’s my only key to the puzzle that is my entire existence.
If they want him dead, they’ll have to go through me first.
A one-on-one fight against a witch isn’t troubling, but a four-to-one fight is. It will take my full strength and tapping into my questionable magic to evade my captors and aid my newfound ally.
The moment I make the decision to end their lives, I feel…different. It’s freeing to abolish that connection to my former life, but more so, it’s empowering. With the link severed, I can jump into the abyss.
Unfortunately for them, embracing my dark side is going to cost them their lives.
My magic swirls in me. It’s a fire pit of energy, a blazing inferno of power and strength that the witches couldn’t even hope to harness.
I ball my hands into fists at my sides, squeezing so hard I’m sure I’ll crack bone. My knuckles ache, and I scrape them against the frozen earth. The ice shards covering the land aren’t strong enough to break skin, but it dulls the pain. It’s a welcome distraction from what’s boiling inside.
My magic is sparking to life, igniting within the deepest parts of me. It’s desperate to be released. It feels as if it has a mind of its own, and I don’t fear its ulterior motives. Instead, I yield to it, knowing this darkness will be the only thing to save us.
I dig my fingernails into my palms. I clench my muscles, my arms twitching, until my elbow aches. My magic is bubbling within, and it’s only a matter of time before I burst.
I feel it rising in my chest. It burns in my heart and fills my lungs. It works its way up my throat and into my mouth, forcing its way out.
I scream, and when I do, the buildup of magic escapes through my lips. It blasts outward from my mouth, shooting erratically.
No longer in control, I sit as a bystander as my magic thrusts outward and slams into the four witches entombing me. They are flung backward, soaring through the air as they are hit by a blast of energy far stronger than their combined magic.
The witches scream, relinquishing their hold on their own air magic, and crumble to the ground several yards away. They claw at the ground, fighting to stand, to protect themselves, but it is no use. My magic has already stretched from within me and is creeping toward them like heavy fog on a dark day.
When it reaches my victims, it wraps endlessly around their frail frames, encasing them in a fiery tornado. It takes only seconds for the witches to succumb to my power, and like a staked vampire, their mortal bodies combust into ash, with nothing to remember them by but their cremains in the wind.
With my captors eliminated, I stand. My legs are wobbly, and I teeter as I move forward. Exhausted from using such powerful magic, I take breaths in quick bursts. In shimmering iridescent waves, my power flows all around me. It stretches outward, never straying too far, always connecting to me in some way. After all, I am its host.
The other witches are surprised by my escape, and some weep for their fallen sisters. I ignore them and trudge forward. My legs are heavy, my arms weak. My stomach burns from hunger. Every second I use this magic, my energy depletes. I’m not sure how long I have before I’m too weak to summon it at all.