Chapter 5

The stone chamberloomed tall as a cathedral, the walls intricately carved with vines that twined around beasts. Fantastical creatures with ferocious miens—and lots of teeth.

I whirled to examine the strange space, certainly not one I'd ever visited. Just like the filmy red gown I wore would never be something I'd buy, let alone wear.

It had to be a dream. A fucked-up one because Nova had whammied me into sleep.

As if my having a nap would change my mind.

I wondered what movie I'd seen this chamber in because I didn't have the imagination to conjure this. Tunnels branched off, dark gaping maws that I didn't dare explore. It occurred to me that I could see despite being underground and had to crane to look overhead before I spotted the massive jewel that emitted a whitish glow embedded in the ceiling.

"Welcome to my prison." The deep voice had me spinning to behold a man-beast entering from one of the corridors.

He loomed taller than me by at least two feet. His skin was a steel gray, the horns curling from his forehead ebony shot with gold. His legs started out hairless, but rather than feet, he strode on hooves. His muscles bulged, most of them on display, given he wore only a loincloth around his hips. With fingers tipped in claws, he held what appeared to be a bone with a sharpened end.

I couldn't hide the horror in my tone as I whispered, "You're Moloch."

"I told you we'd meet soon."

"Then this isn't real," I muttered. Just my mind playing tricks.

"Oh, it's real. Touch me and you'll see."

"Dream or not, I am not going anywhere near you."

"Such a coward. Just as I'd hoped and planned," he said with malicious glee.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They say the shaping of a hero starts at birth. The same can be said of the craven."

It stung being called a coward by a monster. Even worse, it was my subconscious putting words in my dream-demon's mouth. I thought I'd gotten better about loving myself. I'd spent years trying to undo the damage done by my parents, who never had a positive thing to say. Growing up, I'd often wondered why they'd had a child, given they never seemed to like me. They constantly criticized. Belittled me. Made me feel small, stupid, and worthless.

Eighteen years of it full-time and then sporadically once I moved out. I'd had very little contact with them over the past decade because I could no longer handle their negativity.

Apparently, the progress I'd made hadn't been as thorough as I thought. It lurked in my subconscious, waiting to pounce.

"How's this for brave? Fuck off. I hope you never escape your prison, asshole," I huffed with more courage than I felt.

"That is a foregone conclusion. Soon now, messovenata. My incarceration is coming to an end, and when it does, you'll wish you'd been nicer to me."

He strode towards me, his eyes aglow, the middle of them sparking with flames. I retreated, panting in panic that turned into terror when my ass hit a wall with nowhere left to go. Moloch loomed over me, caging me with his arms, the heat of him making my skin sweat.

"You are smaller than I would have liked. Your hips barely wide enough to birth," he complained as he perused me like the broodmare he considered me.

"I'll kill myself before I let you rape me." One of the most vehement promises I'd ever made.

"Thanks for the warning. I'll make sure to keep you bound hand and foot until you accept your fate."

"Never." I shoved at him, the skin of his chest burning my palms, but he let me escape, only I had nowhere to run. I had to wake up.

I pinched myself as he whirled to face me, grinning diabolically.

"Perhaps I should give you a taste of what's to come." With that threat, he whipped off the cloth hiding his cock.

A cock that sprang from his groin longer and thicker than my body could handle. The head of it was ringed in barbs, the veins bulging. The idea of it coming anywhere near me was terrifying.

He stalked toward me, and I ran. Ran into a dark tunnel, blind and panicked. I slammed into a wall and—

Woke up.

For a second, disorientation clung to me, leaving me blinking at the ceiling of my tent. Huffing noisily in panic at the vivid nightmare, I pushed myself to a seated position and winced. A glance at my palms showed them reddened as if burned.

Hold on. Had I actually visited Moloch in my dream? That had never happened before, and I blamed Nova and her magical tricks that had put me to sleep.

Never again.

As I stared at my hands, the sting in them faded and disappeared. There went my proof I'd met the demon king. What would Nova say if I told her he'd spoken to me? Once for sure outside the park then possibly again in my dream.

She'll probably consider you a liability. My sly inner voice seemed to think I'd be jeopardizing myself. It might have a point. Again, the simplest way to ensure Moloch didn't escape? Kill the key.

Kill me.

Cain would probably volunteer to do it. He'd made no bones about how he felt about my "whining." As if I didn't have reason to bitch. In the fantasy books I read, heroines didn't struggle like me. They didn't lack courage. They had a driving need to save the world. And, yes, I realized comparing myself to fictional characters wasn't exactly ideal, but I had no other comparison.

Me? I didn't want to die. My parched throat needed something to drink, but a glance around my tent showed only that nasty vitamin shake from the morning that I'd yet to drink. No thanks.

Ding. Ding.The dinner bell rang, meaning it was six thirty.

A scratch on my canvas tent wall was followed by Mizuki saying, "Sadie? You awake? Supper's ready."

I didn't reply. What could I say after the shit day I'd had? Mizuki would try to comfort me and tell me we'd work harder at figuring out my power. I didn't want her sympathy or her understanding. I wanted to stop feeling like a failure.

Given I couldn't handle talking, I skipped dinner. Skipped people. Skipped everything to remain in my tent, huddled on my air mattress, arms tucked around my knees. Since I couldn't escape the noise or my thoughts, I focused on my anger.

How dare Nova intentionally put me in harm's way! She had no right to do that to me. I had no interest in confronting demons. Ever.

So why then are you staying with them? My inner voice questioned my choice to live with the reapers and witches.

Safety from demons was the number one reason why I couldn't leave. My magic attracted monsters. A problem all witches had.

Get rid of the magic and you eliminate the problem.

My subconscious had a simple solution. It would be so easy to say fuck it. Take it all from me. I could then leave, be one of the mundane wandering this world, oblivious to the monsters that stalked us. Without magic, I wouldn't be able to see them coming. I wouldn't have the glowing hands that appeared when I'd almost got my face eaten. I wouldn't have the stress of failing. I wouldn't be able to lust after two guys who saw me as nothing more than a pain in the ass. No more being pushed into becoming something I wasn't.

I flopped onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my tent, debating if I really should leave. I'd been frustrated when I asked Nova earlier to rid me of it. Her solution? A nap to change my mind.

News flash: It hadn't. As a matter of fact, the whole Moloch taunting me in my dream only made things worse. Not to mention, I'd been trying to be this reaper witch they wanted for a month now. Time to admit I wasn't cut out to be a savior.

As the noise in the warehouse quieted, I debated going to the rooftop and seeing if anyone had left a half-cigarette behind. If not, I could always bum one from a sentry. Don't judge. Some people ate when they stressed, me included, usually. However, the whole communal kitchen made that weird, not to mention I had no appetite. A cigarette would do just the trick.

With that plan in mind, I poked my head out of the tent and saw Cain taking up space on the floor in front of it. The big man lay on his side, head pillowed on his arm. I pursed my lips as I debated how to escape without waking him. He'd insist on shadowing me. Probably give me a disapproving look. Maybe even call me a whiny baby. I wasn't in the mood for his blunt attitude.

Emilia, a witch I'd not spoken much with, noticed me in passing and cocked her head. "Do you need something?"

"Hoping for a smoke, but I don't want to wake him," I whispered.

She waved her hand, and my skin tingled. "I've made it so he won't stir for the next hour."

"Thanks." I stepped over Cain carefully. He didn't budge.

Head cocked, Emilia eyed me. "You seem perturbed."

"Rough day," I muttered as I began to thread my way through the large space.

Emilia kept pace by my side. "I heard. It mustn't be easy having so many deaths on your conscience."

I stumbled. Despite what my mind had been insisting, I blurted out, "They weren't my fault."

"Not all of them, no," Emilia agreed, also implying some were.

"It's this stupid magic I supposedly have. Fucking useless shit. Doesn't work when I need it to."

"You're still struggling." Stated not asked.

"If by struggling you mean unable to do the simplest thing."

"Not everyone is able to use it. You wouldn't be the first witch to call it quits."

"How often does it happen?"

"More than anyone will admit. The life of a witch isn't an easy one. As you might have noticed, we don't have much freedom." Emilia grimaced.

"Do you ever wish you'd given up your magic?" I asked.

"Yes. I got inducted at sixteen after a demon attack killed my boyfriend. We'd gone parking by the lake, and when Randy got out to check what smacked his car, it ate him."

"How did you escape?"

"I killed it." A fierce reply. "But then no one believed me because the body vanished. The cops, even my family, assumed I'd killed Randy, despite having no blood on me. I was looking at jail time when Nova rescued me."

"Wow. That sucks."

"What sucked more was not realizing what I'd agreed to. See, Nova offered me the choice of having my magic and memories wiped. Even told me she could do something about the murder charges. But I was young and blinded by the idea of wielding power." Her lips turned down. "It started out being exciting, but as the years passed, I couldn't help but regret all the things I missed out on."

"Why not get rid of it now?" I asked.

She shrugged. "What else would I do but keep fighting? It is my duty. The only thing I know. One day it will most likely kill me because, like you, I chafe at being cloistered. I want to explore the world. Want to buy a hot dog from a food truck. Go to concerts at night. Walk on the beach in the moonlight."

Finally, someone who understood how I felt. "I keep telling Nova I don't want it, but she's hung up on this whole messovenata thing," I confided as we reached the rooftop. To my surprise, Emilia pulled a pack of smokes from her pocket.

"Want one?" she offered.

"Oh, hell yeah."

We lit up, and the first toke left me lightheaded as we looked out over the city. It looked much prettier at night. The day revealed the garbage on the streets and the ugliness of humanity. But in the dark, pretty twinkling lights made it almost magical.

I sighed as I exhaled.

"You are truly troubled by your gift."

"It's not a gift if it causes me pain." I sucked on the cigarette.

"Would you like me to remove it?"

The offer had me blinking. "You can take away my magic?"

Emilia nodded. "It's not that hard."

"Where does the magic go? Does the remover get it?"

"Wouldn't that be awesome?" Her lips tilted. "Alas, no one is quite sure what happens once a witch is severed from her source of power. Perhaps somewhere in the world, a girl being born gets it. Maybe it's simply wasted."

"I'm surprised no one knows given how often it supposedly occurs." Nova and even Mizuki made it sound as if most witches had it stripped for their own safety.

"There is a stagnancy in the guild, one that revolves around keeping the old ways instead of modernizing with the new. They don't ask questions. They don't investigate. It's always find and kill."

"I've been wondering about that. How come they never take any of the demons captive?"

"Because it's not done," Emilia said in finger quotes, her cigarette tossing ash.

"You'd think they'd want to understand. To improve their methods."

"Like I said, they're stuck following tradition."

"Dumb if you ask me." As I ground out the cigarette, I tossed a casual, "So if I wanted to get rid of my magic and all that shit, you could really do it?"

"Sure, but you do know once it's gone, you'll have to leave the warehouse."

"That's actually it's biggest selling point." That and the fact I'd no longer be a demon magnet.

"Want me to strip your magic right now?"

The offer took me aback. I should have jumped on it but, to my surprise, I said, "Not quite yet. I told Nova I'd sleep on it. Guess I owe her that much."

"When you're ready, let me know."

Not if, when. I frowned. "Won't you be in trouble if you act behind Nova's back?"

"You shouldn't have to carry the burden if you don't want it. Not to mention, a messovenata who cannot fight is of no use."

Harsh but true. "Let me think about it."

A distant caw had her eyeing the overcast sky. "We should get inside."

"Why? It's not like there are flying demons."

"No, but we've been gone a while, and if your protector wakes up to find you gone…"

Cain would flip. Good point. We headed down to the main floor, and I returned to my tent, once more stepping carefully over Cain. I sank onto the air mattress, feeling a bit better.

It was nice to know I had options. If I really decided I'd had enough and Nova refused to help me, Emilia would. I could live free again—and be oblivious to the fight happening.

I'd decide in the morning. At least this time I didn't dream.