Chapter 21

Remis wished that he hadn’t seen her face.

Before, when she was only sinful curves wrapped in leather and full lips spread in a sneer he could imagine that the rest of her was as ugly as he thought a witch should be. Unfortunately for him, she wasn”t ugly at all.

Damn it all, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

How vicious was this fate that his death came to him wrapped in this sinfully gorgeous package?

She’d held him at the end of his sword and all he could think about was how stunning she was under the last of the day”s light. He’d been near enough to see the freckles too small for him to notice at a distance splattered across her cheeks and nose. The witch had glared at him, and though he felt the menace she intended for him, she hardly looked threatening with those large green doe eyes of hers. It made it easier to slip into the confidence he did not feel.

Even hating her as he did, he couldn’t pretend she wasn’t pleasant to look at. Plus, she’d offered his friends a mercy he hadn’t expected, though Merritt, the stupidly loyal oaf he was, had tried his damnedest not to part ways. But they would be fine. Percy would get the help he needed and they’d stay safe. Or at least he prayed to whatever great being might be listening that they would. He’d never really believed in the god that his mother had prayed to when he was young, but if that god was listening now, he’d swear himself a servant for the rest of his short life.

Merritt and Percy would be far from them now. The more distance between his friends and the witch the better. They’d walked for what felt like miles pushing through the tangle of brush toward the unknown with her at his back. She’d put her sword back into its sheath but in exchange, she held the point of a dagger.

He’d tried, without any luck, to strike up a conversation. The witch was stubbornly quiet, and the farther they went the more restless he became. Night was consuming them now, though thankfully the snow had stopped. Remis was shivering under his cloak, his breath clouding up before him obscuring his vision further. His teeth were chattering so violently he feared he might accidentally bite his tongue clean off.

“Are we to walk all night?” Remis finally snapped, coming to a halt.

She pressed the blade into his back, it poked through his cloak, the tip a threatening prick between his shoulders. “Keep walking.”

Snow was in his boots. His feet were going numb. Exhaustion was dragging his body down, begging for him to finally rest. She’d found him what felt like less than an hour after he”d gone to her in his mind and that had been enough exerted energy that he’d thought he might fall into an eternal sleep. He swayed but didn’t move. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and gave her his best scowl.

“I’m tired.”

She snorted. “You poor thing.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. If she was going to kill him he wished she’d just get it over with. Dragging it out like this was torture. “Why not take that blade to my throat now?”

Not even the snow crunched under her boot as she closed the space between them. She grinned, baring all her teeth as she let the blade settle at the base of his neck. His eyes darted to her mouth and lingered there longer than they should have.

Whatever words she might have said looked as though they withered on her tongue when his eyes met hers and her violent smile fell. She lowered the weapon.

“Why do you want me dead?” Remis pushed. “Why go through all this trouble when we don’t even know each other? How have I wronged you?”

She pressed her lips together. Fuck, he wanted to pry them apart with his tongue.

That thought alone was enough for him to want to bang his head against the nearest tree trunk. What was so fundamentally wrong with him that he found himself so attracted to the one person who wanted him run through with a sword? Or more currently, a dagger…

Still, she didn’t answer. The woman was careful with her words, choosing to speak only occasionally. Her green eyes, darker around the edges, could only be seen as the moon came out from behind the clouds to shine a spotlight down upon them.

Why wouldn’t she just answer him? Unless…

“You—” Remis laughed. “Do you not know?”

The malice in her gaze melted into a flicker of fear. Her eyes widened before she set her resolve and ground her teeth. That was it. She knew nothing. Had her coven sent her on an errand to collect him but not trusted her with the information? How could she not know?

“We’re almost there. There are ruins up here that we can stay in for the night and tomorrow we’ll reach Croughton.”

He supposed that was as good as it was going to get for him. Hopefully ‘almost there’ wasn’t too far because his knees felt wobbly and he swore on more than one occasion he heard the howl of a wolf. He wanted a warm fire and rest. If he was being honest, he wanted his bed, a hot cup of tea, and perhaps a warm cunt to slide into to rid himself of the tension that was building every time he glanced at her. Her warm cunt would be particularly pleasing. If it didn’t have teeth.

None of this made sense. Not why she came for him. Not how she refused to tell him anything. Nor how damn attractive he found her. He should hate her. Perhaps he was resigned to his fate as he’d tried to convince Merritt. He certainly feared her; she held his life at the edge of her blade.His thoughts were consumed with these freakishly oxymoronic ideals as they pushed through the woods. Eventually the trees gave way to the dip of a valley and at its end were the crumbling remains of old stone and what might have once been homes.

“Oh good.” Remis sighed. “I’m assuming these are our luxurious sleeping arrangements?”

The witch didn’t smile up at him as she stared out at the mess of ruins. Her shoulders were slumped though her knuckles had turned white on the handle of her dagger. She didn’t deign to respond to him but trudged through a pile of snow that the wind had created against the swooping land.

She made it two feet ahead of him before the thought of running crossed his mind. He looked to the trees behind him, considered the state of his numb feet…What was the worst that could happen? She’d kill him? He almost chuckled at the passing thought. He was already marching straight for his death; it could be worth the attempt. Would she be fast enough to catch up with him? He’d looked to the sky several times and never saw a sign of her dragon and unless witches could fly on their own he doubted she could match his pace.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Remis turned back the way they’d come into the brush that was already trampled and ran. He sprinted, feet pounding into the snow and heart hammering in his throat. He made it back into the treeline and—

Snow was shoved up his nostrils. Remis landed face first, an upturned root painfully digging into his cheek and the weight of a woman on his back. Fingers threaded in his hair and then tugged his head up, angling his face. The woman’s face hovered next to his cheek.

“I honestly thought you’d try that sooner,” she practically sang against the shell of his ear. His body warmed as her lips brushed against him.

“You’re quick for a woman.” Remis laughed and her fingers loosened in his hair. He twisted though she didn’t rise from her position on top of him, she let him turn himself so that she sat snuggly over his hips. Her dagger was poised for his ribs as she watched.

She sat up, her weight shifting against him. Her ass brushing his cock in a way he was certain was purposeful. “You don’t need to add the ‘woman’ part. I’m quick. That is the statement. I am fast for a human, and faster than you are, certainly. I wouldn’t try this again.”

He swore for a moment her eyes fell to his mouth, but she stood up off him so quickly he could have imagined it. Her heat was gone and the cold at his back was unbearable without her. Not to mention he’d gone from flaccid to half-staff in his trousers. He tried to reason with his cock; this woman would sooner cut his member from his body than have sex with him.

“Come on my little rabbit. Let’s find a place to rest and if you can behave I promise I won’t kill you tonight.” Her voice had gone silky, a dangerous purr.

Remis glared down at the ground as his feet caught against each other and he stumbled. He pretended to blame the uneven terrain when really he’d been distracted by her. Were all witches also seductresses? Was this how they lured their victims? If so, Remis didn’t think it was the worst way to go.

He followed her back down into the valley, his steps a cacophony of noise compared to her quiet delicate movements. She certainly moved like a predator, all grace and lethal prowess.

If he was a rabbit then she was a wolf.

The valley came to an end where only fractions of an old stone wall remained. There was a clear opening where the city”s main road might have once been. Now all the grass was overgrown enough that Remis couldn’t make out where the old path started and where the weeds began. Two moss-covered stone pillars remained mostly intact. The top half of one had been toppled over and lay in a collection of shattered rock behind it.

The witch stopped at one of the pillars and looked it up and down before she continued on. Remis paused where she’d stood for a moment. Here he could see where plants had grown over what could have been art or some sort of meaningful design. He ran his fingers over the surface, softened only by cold damp moss. He thought he could make out the shape of a woman but the structure was weather-worn and the image faded with age.

Pulling his cloak tighter against his body, Remis followed the witch as she walked slowly amongst the rubble. A howling breeze was barreling between buildings, ruffling his hair and threatening to blow him away. The thin top layer of the snow was caught in the wind”s fury and thrown up into their faces. The witch sighed and tugged her hood up.

All around them, what could have been homes or storefronts were now nothing more than a few standing walls and rotting broken doors. In some places, a few windows remained intact and frost was already coating the corners. Remis’ boot caught against something in the snow. It jingled as he kicked it. Brows pulling together, he leaned down and plucked the item out of the snow, dusting the white off it. It was heavy with moisture but made of fabric and it drooped down in his hand. He gave it a slight shake, and when it jingled again he turned it over.

A faded smiling face looked back at him. A doll with a ribbon tied around its neck, a small bell attached at the end of it like a necklace and its charm. His throat tightened. Children had lived here. It was silly that the idea had only just occurred to him. Of course, if there had been a town here there had also once been children. What had happened to these people? The owner of this doll? Remis propped the doll up against the nearest fragments of whatever building had been there.

“Don’t dally,” the witch called over her shoulder.

Hairs rose on the back of his neck. His attention scanned the rubble looking for watchful eyes but not even the witch was watching him. He started forward, hurrying as something like fright rose up within him.

Remis wasn’t sure that ghosts existed. He’d heard stories of such things of course, but usually they could be chalked up to tricks of light and people not in their right minds. What happened to spirits after they passed? His mother believed they went to live with her god, but what if whatever had happened here had trapped their spirits? What if the child who’d lost their doll was watching him now?

He was starting to scare himself. Chuckling, though the sound was dry, he hurried to catch up with the witch. The road she’d turned on offered homes that were much more intact. Several had broken windows and looked as if time was slowly starting to make them sag but porches were still erect. A rocking chair moved in the breeze, creaking against the wooden planks underneath it. Something clattered in the distance and the hiss of an animal echoed around them.

The witch only scowled at the noise and came to a stop. “Seems as luxurious as any other one.” She motioned to the home, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she played on the words he”d said earlier when they’d arrived. Before he’d tried to run and before her body had been on top of his.

Remis shook his head and started up the steps behind her as she shoved a shoulder into the closed door. The porch groaned so loudly at their movements he wondered if it would cave in under them. With another shove of her weight, the woman splintered the wood frame with a crack and the door swung open, hinges screaming in protest.

“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” she called as she sauntered forward.

For most of his life, Remis had thought the worst thing in the world was his father. Nothing could be more terrifying than his disapproval and the rings on his knuckles when Remis was to be punished. He supposed that had left him with this terrible need to be liked. So then he feared people hating him and had grown quite used to changing the mask he wore to suit the people he was around. More often than not he wore the mask of false confidence and arrogance noticing how people took to that better. Yet the idea of heading into this abandoned house with the witch who”d hunted him down turned his stomach.

She’d promised not to kill him tonight, but of all people, he couldn’t trust her.

Still, he had little choice in the matter, and when the gust of wind behind him started to sound like an old woman sobbing he hurried inside after her.

The air in the home was damp and musty. He wrinkled his nose and pulled his cloak up over his face. At least when he’d slept on the raft he’d had the open air around him.

The witch”s shadowed silhouette had stopped in the room to his left. A bit of moonlight poured in through the cracked window. They stood in an old living room, a simple fireplace right before them and furniture broken and dust covered on either side. Bookshelves ran from floor to ceiling, several of them toppled into a pile on the floor. He wondered if the old books were half the rotting smell.

“Sleep. We’ll be safe here, from the dragonis at least, and then we will be moving again in the morning.” She settled into an armchair.

Remis took stock of his options. He could lay himself down on the dusty ground, sit in the matching armchair opposite her, or he could try the couch that was missing a leg. He opted for the couch, scowling when the cushions flattened underneath him. A loud crack split the air before another leg broke and Remis lay with his feet tipped toward the ground and his head still at the original height. The witch let out a laugh, as beautiful as Sunday morning bells, that she quickly muffled behind her hand. His body went still at the noise. Perhaps she had a heart and soul in that wicked body of hers after all.

“Funny,” Remis murmured before crossing his arms under his cloak. This was going to be a long damn night.