Chapter 15

The Necromancer

Those images of the goddess Hel and the flashbacks of the murdered queen plague me. I stand with my face to the sky, letting the rain wash over me and feeling the burn of every inch where Dorian ravished me. My entire body still vibrates with pleasure. Our union was one of desperation and a strange sense of finality.

He gave me the opportunity to run. He offered me an escape. True. To get it, I would have needed to end his life.

I chose to stay. I chose them.

That revelation has hit me harder than I expected. Not that I was ever expecting this.

When I truly faced a life without them in it, I felt just as lost and hopeless as I did the night before the Rite. As I sat in that sheer dress, watching the clock tick away every minute of my life. That's how I felt. The same dread. The same emptiness. The same fear of what was to come.

I had a choice. I could run. Run into that dread and emptiness.

Or stay.

I stayed. I gave up a life without them in it because, for some reason, it didn't seem like a life worth living.

I stayed. I willingly agreed to be his. To be all of theirs. And as I stand in this blood-soaked wedding dress, coated in mud and sweat and tears, I've never felt more free.

I lean down and scoop up the torn chain he ripped from my neck. My leash. His hand cups mine and curls my fingers around it. The Shadow Master with a hundred souls ready to do his bidding. And he kisses my neck. His other arm lies flat across my stomach as he pins me to his broad chest. His fingertips dig in deep, and I'm pretty damn sure he would happily squeeze the soul from me and tuck it safely away inside with the others he's taken.

It must be crowded in there.

My mind is being pulled a million ways.

Do I love this creature truly? Am I just so used to being a prisoner that the idea of being free has now become the real threat to my sanity? Am I safe? Is my heart?

‘I want you to wear my charms,' he says as he holds me in his arms. He slides off his charms and wraps them around my wrist and fingers. ‘Your powers are getting stronger. Soon, no charms will be strong enough to protect you from the spirits. You'll need to practice controlling them and keeping them at bay, but we don't have time for that now. Take the protection. Please.'

They settle on my wrist, and he shudders.

‘What about you?'

‘I'll be fine. You're what matters.'

I lean into him. I wish this moment could last a little longer. But I know it can't. Things are happening too quickly.

‘We need to go to the coven,' I tell him.

All the uncertainties must be pushed aside for now. Neve is out there. Cole too. And the dead queen's last words were for me to get to my old coven. So that is what I need to do.

‘I need to bend you over and fuck you senseless.'

Apparently, Dorian has other ideas.

‘Already done that, Shadow Daddy.'

His deep chuckle travels down the length of my spine as he continues trailing kisses along my neck.

‘We need to focus,' I add. ‘We left Shaw and Archie back there at the palace. They would have gone to the coven.'

‘You seem confident that they are still in one piece.'

‘Oh,' I scoff. ‘I know they are. There's no way they're still there. Not those two against a few humans and a couple of fire witches.'

I'm positive. And even contemplating the alternative is not an option.

He lowers my hand, which is holding the chain, and pulls my fingers apart so it drops to the floor.

And he steps on it, grinding it into the dirt.

My leash is gone. He'll never put it back on me. That's his promise. All I had to do was swear myself to him for the rest of my life.

A vow that feels a million times more freeing than vowing to run ever did.

I reach back, my fingers sinking into the lengths of his long hair as he works my neck. He looks at my wrist.

‘That's going to be a problem. Your glamour is gone. Your kindred markings are visible.' His fingers caress the naked space on my wrist. ‘Do you see any spirits?'

‘No.'

But a small part of me is excited by my new power. I harnessed the queen and her death. I made her inflict it on my enemies. I know that is just a glimpse of what I can do. But I know it's too dangerous. Especially now I know what awaits me if I give into the darkness.

‘We need to go to the coven.'

I look back at him. His dark eyes stare straight at my soul with a warning.

‘We need to go,' I repeat.

‘You have a habit of running at danger. I loathe that trait in you.'

‘I ran to you, didn't I?'

‘Precisely my point. Anyone sane would have run as fast as they could in the other direction.'

‘Perhaps I am not as sane as you expected, Shadow Daddy.'

He laughs deeply again and rolls his eyes. ‘You got that right, Poppet. Fucking insane is a gentle description for whatever goes on in that brain of yours.'

‘Whatever is going on in my brain is the result of what you and the other two did to it.'

He steps back a little at my words. Words I spoke in teasing, but they've upset him, I guess.

He leans down and allows my snake to slither up his arm.

I watch the two stare at one another. Unblinking and intense. Gods, I wish I could read his thoughts. He admires her for a moment before handing her to me.

‘I'll check the area. Make sure we're alone.' He points to my familiar. ‘And give her a name already, would you? It's demeaning to call her "snake" and "familiar".'

I look down at her with a raised brow.

‘So you like him?'

She sticks out her tongue and tilts her head.

‘Yeah.' I sigh. ‘I like him too.'

A clap of thunder rings out overhead, and a bolt of lightning illuminates the area. I stop dead when the light shows me something I was not expecting.

A tree. That in itself is not the strange aspect of the moment. But I know that tree.

It's the same tree from a dream I had not that long ago. A dream the Dream Walker put me into.

A dream in which Neve, my mother, slit my throat and buried me in the earth.

Half buried in the ground and covered with forest floor debris, an emerald green gem glints in the pale moonlight. I sweep it aside.

A lump forms in my throat as I recognise it.

‘Mother…' I whisper longingly.

Not Neve. But my earth witch mother. She was here in this very spot.

I pull the jade stone from the soil and gently dig, stopping when I find a piece of soft cloth a few feet below. When I brush my fingers against it, I freeze.

The tiniest little skeletal foot tumbles from the folds.

A whimper passes my lips as I swell with grief.

Grief for the baby my mother buried here. Her biological child.

It was here I rose from the ground, blood-soaked and dying from Neve's attack.

It was here I was healed by ancient earth magic. And it was here my earth witch mother claimed me as hers and placed the glamour bracelet on me to hide my kindred markings.

I rest my fingertips on the bones with delicate care, filled with a need to offer some kind of comfort to her.

The soil beneath starts to churn. My eyes narrow as I watch it. As magic pulses from beneath.

I quickly let go of the bones, a terrifying thought forming that perhaps I had accidentally tapped into blood magic again and was keen not to commune with the lost child or be pulled back to hell.

But the soil continues to writhe, and the only power I can feel is the thrum of earth magic.

Purple roots emerge, thick and solid, slithering around each other like a hundred snakes.

‘Dorian?!' I call out.

He appears behind me and grips my shoulders, ready to pull me away. But just like my familiar and me, he's transfixed, watching this strange event.

‘Purple vines. The same ones from earlier,' he says.

‘Athir…' I breathe. ‘It's him.'

I reach out. My snake goes rigid as she prepares to attack, and Dorian tugs me back.

But the roots part for me.

‘It's okay,' I assure them, unable to look away. ‘It's friendly. I feel it.'

I reach in.

My fingers feel something solid, and when I get a firm grip, I pull.

The roots release it without reluctance, and I'm left with a book in my grasp. The bindings seem to be made of wood. And all around it, life. Vines grow to the cover, and the pages have thin purple veins.

‘The earth coven's grimoire,' I breathe. My fingers trace the cover. ‘Athir has sent me the grimoire.' It feels a little different than the last time I held it. It's vibrant with power, and I know, without a doubt, it's just as alive as the trees around me are, just as I am. I open it and let out a stunned puff of laughter. There it is. The spells. The incantations.

The power of the coven leader.

A twig snaps in the treeline, and I slam the book shut, clutching it to my chest protectively.

‘Are we alone?'

‘It's a rabbit,' Dorian says with a wave of his hand. ‘You think Athir sent the grimoire to you?'

He surveys it with suspicion.

‘The purple vines. The aura of the magic. I'm positive he sent it to me.' I fill with hope as I hold it to my chest and look up at Dorian. ‘He's my father. And he's going to help me defeat Neve! This is where he saved my life and gave me to his coven.'

‘You truly believe Athir is your father?' he asks with a raised brow.

‘It sounds insane. But it's a reasonable conclusion. After all, to be made into what I am, I had to be more than simply a witch, right? And the daughter of a god would undoubtedly make me different enough to be able to become a blood-drinking monster. Plus, I possess both earth magic and blood magic.'

The revelation fills me with hope and joy. And a sense of strength. The daughter of a god. And of Athir himself.

I cover the small bones back up and rest my palms on the soil, lowering my forehead to the dirt so I can offer the lost child a prayer.

‘To the endless life below. The tallest trees above. I ask you, Father Earth, Athir, watch over this child as she dwells in the endless eternity of life beyond.'

Vines and roots grow up my wrist and forearm as I offer my prayer. As the magic below hears me and responds. Acknowledging my prayer and respect.

Acknowledging my grief.

From the ground, white baby breath flowers sprout.

‘Do you see that? A gift.' I look up at Dorian. ‘It's Baby Breath. There is magic in the bloom.'

‘Good magic?'

‘All earth magic is good magic, Dorian.' His frown tells me he disagrees. ‘My coven says that Baby Breath is a gift of protection from a young soul passed on,' I tell him. I cross my legs and sweep my hair over my shoulder. I plait it and tie it with some roots I grow. As I take the baby's breath and place it in the plait, I can't help but notice the magic softly rippling from each piece. ‘We carry the gift with us, and that way, the protection travels with us. Here.' I hold out a flower to him.

‘I am not putting flowers in my hair.'

‘Then put it in your pocket. Just carry it with you.'

He looks at it as if it could attack any second. That, or it may be covered in shit.

‘Just take it, Dorian,' I groan. ‘Don't snub a gift from Athir.'

‘We should not trust your god.'

‘These are the same vines that saved us from your old mistress and are now offering us protection and an earth grimoire.'

He continues to hesitate.

‘I'm an earth witch. This is what I do. What I know. Take it.' I hold it out for him again, frustration building at his open distaste.

‘Fine.' He takes the flower and slips it into his pocket. ‘Happy?'

‘Yes. Thank you.' I kiss his cheek and bury my feet into the dirt.

‘What are you doing now?'

‘I read it in the notes Shaw gave me before.'

I channel the power, and I speak the words in my mind, attempting to perfect them first before I pronounce them aloud.

But I barely complete it inside my head before the magic responds.

I open my eyes. Clematis Vitalba, or as we call it, Traveller's Joy, sprouts. A strange little plant, but renowned for its help in assisting lost witches.

‘They're pretty,' he admires.

The word pretty does not sound natural coming from his lips.

‘Which way to my coven?' I ask the flowers.

The white flowers slowly circle before facing east. Then they return to me.

‘Which way to Shaw and Archie?' I ask.

Thankfully, the flower faces the same direction.

‘Neat trick. You were right. They've gone to the coven.'

Dorian takes my hand and we start to walk in the same direction.

Look at me. Holding hands with the Shadow Master, taker of souls and henchman to the Goddess Hel herself.

‘Well? What is her name, then?' he asks. ‘What is your familiar to be called?'

I look down at her.

‘Poppy,' I decide. ‘Her name is Poppy. After my favourite flower.'

She nods her head in agreement. Good. I'm glad she likes it.

‘They match in colour, too. Both red and black.'

‘And when harnessed properly, both can be lethal.' I look up at him. ‘Did you know that if brewed just right, a tea made from poppy seeds can kill you? And in the most agonising way.'

‘No. I did not. So. When we get to the coven, what then?'

He's asking me?

A moment that will live in infamy.

‘We either kill Neve,' I reply, firming my grip on his hand. ‘Or we die trying.'