Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

" I 'm hunting a mask for my little witch, hunting a mask so we can kill a bitch," I sing as I skip through the forest surrounding the coven. I found a faint trail at the edge of the barrier, and it led right into their land. Hagatha was right. It passed through without setting off alarm bells.

Nothing should be able to do that . . . .

Nothing but death magic.

I don't tell my little witch that yet, not until I'm sure. It would only worry her, and her voice goes all high and weird when she's worried. Plus, she won't let me play. She'll be all, "We need to save the world, demon, no time for thinking about our kiss."

Our kiss.

It's all I can think about—the way she tastes, the soft moans she made in my mouth, and the way her curves fit perfectly into my hands. Heat is all I know, yet I was scorched under her desire.

Demons take what we want, and we do what we want, yet I have held back my desire for my little witch for so long, I couldn't anymore, especially when I saw the darkness riding her. I can still taste it now, the death pouring into me, bringing me to life and killing me at the same time. What would it be like if I fucked her ?

Would she shatter into mist?

Would she wrap it around me and drain me dry?

I shudder in desire. Fires, I could only hope so, and one day, I will find out. We are destined to explode, the little witch and me. I didn't know it all those years ago when fate brought me here. I was only here to uphold the deal, but somewhere along the way, that shifted to needing to protect her. The deal was forgotten, and all I care about now is her, but for a demon, loving someone isn't good. It never ends well, yet I can't seem to stop myself.

My little witch stole every dark, fiery edge of me without even realising it. I am her weapon, her saviour, and her damnation, and one day, I will be her lover. No one else could withstand her needs, not as strong as they are becoming.

It's selfish, but a part of me likes that I could be the only one who's able to withstand her power. Maybe Phrixius, the ass, could, but he's a god and is all high and mighty. There's no way he would let himself break his rules and take my witch, so that leaves me.

The quicker I get this hunt over with, the quicker I can get back to her and we can finish what we started.

It's what speeds up my hunt, my powers flexing across the land. It's been a long time since I've used so much, since I've been stuck at the coven. It makes me sigh in bliss to feel them flexing and being used again.

Whistling happily, I slip through the trees before deciding I should look the part. With a click of my fingers, my outfit changes, and I'm wearing a dramatic suit and a bowler hat with a moustache and a cane. It's much better suited for a detective on the hunt.

The cold edge of death magic is faint, so I focus on it fully, letting it lead me on a merry chase. It's a few hours of walking since I don't want to lose the trail and have to double back, and I get bored and hungry, so I create a corndog, milkshake, and burgers along the way, eating as I go. I ignore the wild wolves and ancient beasts I feel watching me the entire time. They won't touch me, not with the mark upon me, the one that no one else sees but me.

I am protected, at least for now .

It doesn't stop them from being interested though. I must present a tasty snack. I wag my finger at one persistent, feral wolf, and when it bares its teeth, I click my fingers. "Bad wolf." It shrinks down in size, changing colour until it becomes a furry little rabbit. "See how you like being hunted," I say as I continue my journey.

My mind is split between my witch and the death magic I'm following.

It can't be a coincidence, can it? Did someone feel her?

Do they know?

No, they can't. She's growing stronger, but she's contained. I made sure of it. So why now? The only thing that has changed is that fucking god. The sooner we get rid of him, the better. He brings nothing but bad omens, and he's annoying. He also keeps winning in my games and beating my scores.

I hate the way he looks at my little witch as well. It's the same way I look at her. He's supposed to be above all that, be all godly and shit, but I can see through him. He craves the magic inside her, wants to taste it and control it. All gods are the same. They crave power, and nothing is more powerful than my little witch—even if she doesn't know it. Maybe that's why he's sticking around. Regardless, once this hunt is through, I need to find a way to get rid of him for good—oh look, shiny rock.

I pocket the glowing stone to give to my witch. I know she likes things like this. I pluck a few herbs and wildflowers as well that she's running low on. Usually, she goes and gets them, but I know it drains her, so this way she can spend more time focusing on her spells and playing with me. That's the only reason why. No other reason.

"Seriously, I'm tired of hunting now. Those detective shows make it look way more fun!" I yell to no one. "I could be balls deep in my witch right now. Okay, probably not, since she'd kill me first, but I could be making my moves or taking a nap, but no." Using magic, I make my pitch higher. "Track down the mask, demon. Do this, demon. I'm so pretty that it's distracting, demon, so I make you agree to everything." Snorting, I sigh as I stomp through the hillside.

"We get it, with your ominous death magic and stealing a very naughty mask while probably harbouring malevolent plans to end the world, but could you make this easier? Like, come out and monologue me to death. I've been practising my, ‘You won't get away with this.' Honestly, my witch would find it super impressive. She'd finally realise she loves me, and we'd spend the next ten years in bed, or on the floor . . . or against the wall."

There's no reply, so I stomp harder, following the never-ending trail like I'm a fucked-up version of Hansel and Gretel. At least those fuckers got sweets and almost got an epic nap in a fire. I'd kill to be shoved in an oven right now and let a witch eat me—specifically one witch.

Oh well, hopefully if I bring her the evildoer or some information, she might eat me either way. I could cover myself in sweets. Humming happily, I speed up my steps. The trail seems to get stronger the closer I get to the city. The flow of the death magic increases, and I run now, knowing I'm close.

The rolling hills give way to ancient trees, and once through their midst, I find myself in an overgrown, long since abandoned graveyard.

"Creepy, I love it." I nod, looking around. "Love what you did with the place. It's giving hobo chic vibes. Very in."

The church leans to the side, the windows broken and the doors smashed open with what looks like dried blood creating a trail inside. There are at least five overturned graves, with soil and bits of casket scattered around as if something inside wanted out.

"You know, if I wasn't a demon, I might be scared right now," I mutter as I follow the trail through the graves, avoiding the open holes as I head towards the church.

At the doorway, I glance in. "If anyone is in there hiding, come out now. I hate surprises," I call, but nothing moves, and I grumble as I glance at the sky. "If one of you fuckers sets me on fire for stepping in here, I'm going to be really mad. My girl doesn't like BBQ that much."

Placing a hesitant foot on the first step, I wait, and when I don't burst into flames, I skip inside, following the blood trail. I guess the holy ground isn't so holy anymore, or the gods simply don't care that a demon is desecrating it. That thought comes to a screeching halt, though, because I suddenly realise it's already been desecrated.

"I'm all for a bit of grave robbing, since the dead fuckers don't need it, and I get fucking with the church because fuck gods, but damn, you really brought down the property value," I remark. There is blood splashed on every wall, like someone took a bucket of paint and just went to town.

"It's very evil Bob Ross," I mutter as I head past overturned wooden pews, spying crosses flipped upside down nearly everywhere. When I reach the pulpit, I frown.

The trail ends here, and when I glance around, I almost groan.

I was right, and that doesn't bode well for this world or my little witch.

There is a pentagram made of blood and bowls of something I don't want to look too closely at spread around its edges, which still glows with death magic—strong death magic. In the middle of it all is a rotting hand, the skin falling off and decaying. It's a strange yellow colour, the fingers curled as if grabbing something. It's just sitting there, like a fucked-up arm-wrestling machine.

"Do not move. Do not fucking move. Do not move," I mutter as I carefully step over the blood just in case it's a reaping circle. Picking up a broken chair leg, I prod the hand. I'm not proud of the scream that rips from my body when it jerks, clenching the wood and stealing it.

"I told you not to fucking move!" I yell at it, shuddering like spiders are running all over me. "That's just creepy and rude. Who the fuck leaves a still moving and very dead arm in a church? Is it a warning or an interior design choice?" I wait, but there's no answer. "You can't speak, you're an arm. Some good you are!" I huff before an idea hits me, and I perk up. "But we might be able to use you to track whoever did this. My witch will be so happy. Okay, nice arm, come with me." I magic a bag because there is no way I am carrying that thing. It seems angry.

"Nice arm, that's it, come with Uncle Demon. You'll like where we're going. It's less satanic murder house, more cosy witch core. That's it . . ." I grab the wood and jerk, plopping the moving hand into the bag and quickly shutting it. "Nice undead arm."

As I leave the church, the hand claws at the bag, hitting my side and ass in its attempt to get free.

"Hey." I smack the bag at my side. "No grabbing the goods. Only my witch can do that."

If my day wasn't bad enough, I'm now being felt up by a rotting hand. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers.