2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

T he distant sounds of bells chimed three times, alerting me to the witching hour. A time that I had become accustomed to living in. I had laid in bed staring into the night sky long after Callum had departed. I hadn’t dared to close my eyes, knowing that the nightmares would come once again and I couldn’t bring myself to allow them to find me.

The rage had yet to die down. Thoughts of Mariam lying in her cottage pulled at a part of me that I barely acknowledged. I killed that couple too quickly, and now I was left with this pit in the bottom of my stomach. An indescribable ache that, no matter how much I tried to cast it from my mind, wouldn’t go away.

I threw the covers from my body when it was clear that I would be getting no sleep tonight and glided out of my chambers, and down the hall until I was in front of large oak doors. I pushed with little resistance to an empty library as a loud creak rang in the silence.

I picked up the candle and lit it with a single word. “ Incendu .” It blazed until there was a circle of light twirling slowly around my body.

The library was grand. My ancestors had taken great care when designing this room. During the day, natural light filled the room with its floor-to-ceiling windows and thick columns in between. There was a spacious rug in the middle of the room with intricate patterns that was gifted to us by a famous artist whose name I couldn’t remember. Sliding ladders attached to the bookshelves lined every wall filled with thousands of books on various subjects from mathematics to personal journals from great scholars worldwide. Though I always favored books that spoke of far off places: of spices that I had yet to taste, the chilling bite of the ocean air on my face, or seeing monuments that touched the heavens.

It was once said that our library was the largest of all the kingdoms on our continent. And at one time that was most likely true… Over three hundred years ago. But now? Now, I stood in the middle of the Great Library in perpetual silence. Was it still grand if there was only me left to see it?

I took a deep breath, shook off the foreboding feeling that washed over me, and strode past the mantle that spanned the length of three windows. There was a blank space above the mantle that once held a family portrait, but I couldn’t bear to look at it after what had happened so I moved it to one of the many deserted locked rooms.

I made my way to the far back left corner of the room with a particularly deep alcove set, where even light was unable to penetrate this far back. This was just one of many alcoves within the castle that led to various secret rooms, hallways, and even outside. My ancestors wanted there to be multiple escape routes in case anything were to happen.

Even though I couldn’t stand to look at the portrait above the mantle, I kept a smaller one in this alcove to always remind myself of all I lost. I deserved nothing less. I spared them a sidelong glance and stopped in front of the section that housed the books on wars that have come and gone, their victors long forgotten.

I located a book with a worn green spine. Nothing was outstanding about it, other than it being empty. I pulled the spine toward me, causing a small door to slide open. I opened the door to reveal a small room that used to be privy to the most secret of meetings, ones that the royal family didn’t want anyone to see or hear, beside the tower, and the books that didn’t exist to outsiders.

Belle and I found it when we were searching for a new book to read. I loved listening to her read. She was such a smart girl, and could read complex books at the small age of five. Not even I did that at her age.

I remembered the day. Belle was a little short and was trying to reach on her tippy toes to grab a book when she pulled on something and fell backward as the door swung open. We were both shocked that a door opened revealing a hidden room. It wasn’t terribly large, about as big as one of our servant’s bedrooms. The walls were nothing but shelves which were lined with books that were coated in a thick layer of dust. The books ranged in differing sizes, shapes, and colors. The room itself had a table in the middle with a used candle and a chair sitting on top of concrete flooring as if it were an afterthought. As though the people who made this room had no idea of the knowledge that would need to be hidden from the rest of the world.

We walked around it and soon found out why it was kept a secret. Magic. All of these shelves were lined with books about magic from different regions around the world. They weren’t in any particular order, a scattered collection. We had walked around, taking it all in when I looked over at the table.

“Magic?” Belle’s eyes lit up in a way they shouldn’t. Our father hated witches, and forbid magic. Yet, everything inside her body beckoned her childlike curiosity to know more about it.

“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that.” I rolled my eyes dramatically.

“Like what?” She blinked her large, doe eyes.

“Like it’s some adventure,” I said. “Magic is forbidden for a reason. We shouldn’t be in here.”

Belle bounced on the balls of her feet, ignoring my pleas.

There were three open books taking up the majority of the space on the table. The Anthropology of Witchcraft and Demonology. A History of Witchcraft and Varying Anathemas. Anathema: A List of the Most Notorious Witches in History and their Wrongdoings. I flipped through a few pages skimming through the sentences and had to look away when I flipped to a gruesome photo of what looked like a snarling wolf with horns.

I looked around the table once more, and Annabelle picked up a familiar leather-bound book with writing inside.

Father’s.

I cast my mind away from the past and focused on the present.

I sighed, dust particles dancing in front of my vision in the flickering of the candlelight. I set the candle on the top of the worn table and sat in one of the two chairs that were placed on either side. I looked down to find my quill, ink, and journal where I had left them.

What would I write about tonight?

I always came here when there was something heavy weighing on my shattered heart. Put my thoughts down on paper and then locked them behind closed doors.

The pain returned and I swiftly picked up the quill, opened the thick journal to the next blank page, and began writing.

October 1761,

Two strangers came to steal from me. That is not new, though it hasn’t happened in a decade. What is new is that they arrived after having murdered the old woman. She had been in my employ since she was young.

I gripped the quill hard enough to snap as I had to take a few deep breaths. Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Breathe out. One. Two. Three.

My mind cleared slightly, but not enough to rid myself of my anger. I continued writing.

They killed her in cold blood. Though there is no need to worry. She was avenged. She can rest peacefully knowing that her murderers were in pain in their last moments. My single regret is that I did not make it last longer.

I closed my eyes and sat back. I imagined Mariam’s smile was wide every time she came to gather another child, knowing that she was doing something meaningful with her life. That is what she told me when she asked to be the one to shepherd the children away from that horrid village. It was one less thing for me to fret about, so I obliged. I made it seem like a simple, unimportant task when I should have told her the truth. She was essential, and good, and very much needed.

I opened my eyes and the ache eased slightly. I must have gotten out all that was necessary. I was about to close the journal until something stopped me. The book had worn with age as I had only ever written in this one.

My magic allowed me to continually add page after page without needing another. Meager fickle magicks that any child could learn regardless of their affinity.

“You truly love to torture yourself…” I said to myself as I flipped back through the journal until I found the page I was looking for.

I closed my eyes and was brought back to the day Emilia was brought into my life.

The night before, I had consumed an entire bottle of venin to rid myself of Circe’s voice. Naturally, I had overslept, completely forgetting about the Reaping. I looked toward the window and found that it was still bright enough to tell me that the sun had yet to fully set. I hurried outside despite the ache that roared in my head from the poison.

I had barely reached the gate and was about to start calling the child when I saw a small, frail figure lying face down in the mud. Something sank inside me, and I ran toward it. I dropped to my knees in the mud and couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing—the child’s clothes were in tatters.

But they had always taken special care of the children. The chosen sacrifice was given a good meal and clothes before being tossed into the forest. I didn’t understand why this one was different. I cursed myself when I realized that she was right outside of the perimeter that kept me away from the rest of the world. I was about to use a stick to drag her to me when I heard screaming down the main path. Mariam was by the child’s side in an instant, panicked, out of her mind. Mariam quickly picked her up and brought her to me so that I might examine her.

I had yet to see her face, as her long blonde hair was covering it. It wasn’t until Mariam sat her down and I turned her over that I was disgusted by the sight. Mariam gasped beside me as we beheld the bruises and wounds along her body, but the most hideous of all the wounds was the large bruise around her throat.

I had to bite back the bile threatening to escape my lips. The child was incredibly malnourished and looked no older than nine years. Her heartbeat was faint—alive, but barely.

Her mouth opened, and out came a croaked whisper, “They hurt me.”

I shut the book as I opened my eyes. I usually tried not to think about that night as it brought back feelings of rage so deep that I knew I would unleash all of my power on the despicable humans who had dared to lay a finger on her. But I couldn’t give in to the rage, fearing that I could harm Emilia, so I suppressed it.

Though honestly, perhaps Emilia didn’t need my protection as much as I assumed. She had always told me of her desire to take over after Mariam became too old to shepherd the children. But since the day I found her in the mud, beaten and assaulted, her eyes bled revenge. This anger never seemed to boil over, but was simmering, waiting for the right moment. Would she do her duty and take care of the children? Or would she leave and find the men who hurt her?

I looked over, out into the library, and found that it was still dark. I must not have been here for long. Time escaped me, the days often bleeding into the nights.

I tapped my foot under the table, unable to decide whether I wished to attempt to go back to sleep or…

I smirked as I stood, pushing the chair back and rushing out of the room barely remembering to lock it behind me. I quickly exited the library, winding around the various halls until I reached his door. I never came to his chambers, never needed to until tonight. After everything… I needed more.

I pushed the door open to find Callum sprawled on his bed fast asleep. I could see from the doorway that his chest was bare, and the sheet was pulled down enough that the only thing it was covering was my favorite part about him. I glided over to the side of his bed and watched his chest steadily rising and falling. I cocked my head to the side and smiled as I thought about how easy it would be to end him. A simple thought and he would cease to exist if I wished it.

Luckily for him, I did not.

Luckily for him, he was incredibly handsome. His brown hair was wild, shrouding half of his face from me. I gently swiped a stray piece of hair away from his eyes so I could look at him, as I had never watched him sleep. I always sent him away after we fucked, never having a desire to share his bed. Never needed that amount of intimacy.

I ran a single finger down his jaw, over his chest until I reached the top of the sheet right over his flaccid appendage. I didn’t want to wake him, so I retracted my hand and stood there staring down at him.

I was reminded of the time we met. He was a lost little thing. He was with three other men who had stumbled upon my castle, thinking they could loot it. I stood in the shadows and heard Callum plead with the men to leave. The largest man, presumably the one in charge, hit Callum in the face so hard that he flew back into the wall. I then watched as all three men beat him for just trying to do the right thing.

He was a victim.

I smiled to myself, thinking about what I did to his abusers. How I used my shadows to form a blade and slit the throat of the one closest to me. His blood splattered all over me, and the sounds of his gurgling sent tingles down my body. I threw my shadows at the next one before he could realize that I was there, hitting him square in the chest. The shadows dispersed and he dropped to the ground.

The last man heard the sounds of his friends and whipped around toward me, but before he could avenge the fallen I simply thought about him dying and his neck snapped. I always liked a challenge, and taking my time, but fury spread through me at witnessing them beat poor Callum who was cowering by the wall.

I walked up to him slowly and knelt in front of him. His arms were wrapped around his knees that were pressed tightly into his chest. His clothes were too large for his sickly frame and I could clearly see varying hues of purple and yellow, indicating that he had been beaten more than once. Callum was crying so hard, assuming that he would be next, that he winced from the pain. This helpless creature was no match for the men that he was with and was malnourished.

He finally looked up at me when the killing blow didn’t come and asked, “Are you going to kill me too?” His voice was so quiet that I had to strain to hear it.

He was like me. A lost soul trying to survive. “What is your name?”

“Callum.”

I informed him that he could stay until his injuries healed and he got a belly full of food and then he was free to go. I stood, and he moved to follow me but hissed and held on fiercely to his side. He must have broken bones if merely moving was causing him pain.

“Please. Don’t make me go back there. I will do anything you ask. Please…” There was a sadness in his eyes, but it had been so long since I allowed anyone to stay since Emilia came, let alone a man. I couldn’t trust him, not just because he was a man, but because my castle wasn’t a place that I would allow just anyone to stay—it wasn’t a home. Though, I took a moment to really look at him. I could see that even though he was skinny he had a good build, shaggy brown hair, and a handsome face. But he looked dull as if he was ready to give up. Ready to die.

I could understand that feeling.

“Fine. You can stay.”

I do not know exactly what made me agree, but I just had a feeling that I should. I scratched his chest from his collarbone down the length of his breast. Blood dripped from the wound and I leaned forward, licking the trickle that fell down his chest. Shivers ran through his body. I leaned back so that our faces were next to each other and whispered, “You are mine now.”

I am being rather nostalgic tonight…

Coming back to my senses, I looked at him one more time, deciding if I wanted to wake him, but decided against it. I got up and walked out of the room.