Chapter 4

‘Drink it,' my father orders, sliding the steaming wine across the kitchen table.

I stare at it, clutching the blanket tighter around my shoulders, and refuse to move an inch.

‘I said drink the wine, Ashe.'

‘I'm not marrying him.'

‘Drink the damned wine.' He slides it under my nose. ‘It will calm you.'

‘It will make me pliable. Make me uncaring and numb.' I look at the wine. He's used it on me before. To keep me calm and obedient.

‘The Rite ceremony starts in a matter of hours. You are filthy, and your aura is toxic. Drink it, or I will make you drink it.'

‘I refuse to do the Rite.'

‘Then you will die.'

‘So be it.'

He tosses a chair at the wall, shattering it in sheer rage.

‘Cole has forgiven you and will still take you as his wife. Now you will drink it and get ready.'

‘He forgives me?' I lift my head, bitter, hot tears slipping past my cheeks. I'm not sad. I'm enraged and trapped. I see my fate, and I want to burn it to ash. I want to tear at it with my teeth and devour it. ‘He was fucking my best friend. In the only place in this village I can call my own. The only place I find peace.'

‘It doesn't matter.'

‘He threatened to have me gang raped by all his friends tonight! Does that matter?'

‘Only if you refuse him! And tonight, it is your duty to take the men of this coven. Despite that, he has asked me to inform you that he will be the only one to touch you tonight and for all your nights to come, despite knowing it will weaken tonight's ceremony.'

‘I'll be taking my chances with his friends.' I slide the wine away. I'll need my wits if I'm to survive. I'll be killing anyone who comes near me. I don't care if it kills me in the process or what they do to me when I refuse to perform this sick ritual.

I can't believe Cole brought me back here. Returned me to my father as if I'm a petulant child and told him I tried to run away. That I attacked him. My father doesn't care what actually happened. He knows. Knows what Cole did and what he said.

But he doesn't give a shit.

Not when my marriage will provide him comfort and luxury for the rest of his life.

The clock chimes in the hall.

He slides the wine back to me.

‘Drink it, Ashe. Make tonight a little easier for yourself. One night. Then it will be over with.'

I slide it away.

He slams his cane on the floor three times.

‘No, Father, don't!' I plead, rushing to my feet.

‘Furatus aer,' he snarls.

I still. My body becomes his. And I can't breathe.

That blank expression on his face starkly contrasts the already writhing rage that has ignited behind his eyes.

‘You will take the ten strikes, Ashe. You will drink the wine. Then you will get ready. Five,' he says sharply, holding out his hand expectantly. I look at that palm and fill with panic. ‘Four.'

The entire world slips away. All of it. All that matters now is finding something before he gets to zero. I don't even hear him counting as I start scanning the kitchen.

I have nothing to offer that won't leave me too sore to escape tonight.

My eyes linger on his cane, still dangling on the crook of his bent elbow.

Not the cane… anything but the cane.

I rush forward and remove his belt instead, sliding it from his trousers as he remains perfectly still. He watches me closely, sneering as I lean in close to remove it. I place it in his waiting hand.

Turning, I fall to my knees, cover my head with my arms and wait.

‘Zero.'

All I am turns ice cold as I hear his approaching footsteps.

The world seems to shrink away, desperate to get as far from me as possible, not wanting to witness what's to come.

The first blow is always the worst. He hits hard, striking my back with all his strength. I can breathe again, and the sharp sting has me screaming.

The second blow comes quickly after, making my toes curl and bile rise in my throat. The third goes low, straight across my lower back. Tears soak my cheeks as I open my mouth in an empty scream. I won't allow any more noise to come from me.

That only seems to anger him more.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

I feel nothing but heat. Searing heat to my bones. I hear nothing but that fucking belt crashing into me. He keeps it above my clothes, no doubt wanting to avoid cutting me.

It takes me a moment to realise he's done. I stay there, my sweat and tear-streaked face hidden from view as he replaces his belt.

Shaking all over, I pull myself up. My skin feels like it's tearing with every bit of movement. I take the wine. My hand shakes as I lift it to my lips. It spills a little past my fingers as I drink it down.

If I don't, I won't be able to breathe again. Not since he used his weapon. His trigger. His command over me.

I lower the cup to the table and face my father. His command is complete. My body is my own again.

‘Now get ready. Am I understood?'

‘Yes,' I whisper. ‘You are understood, Father.'

He leaves the room without another word, slamming the door shut behind him.

I sit and watch the grandfather clock mark my final hours. My legs have lost all feeling as I sit on my knees, and my neck is stiff from staring upwards at the clockface.

Each tick and every tock is slow. The wine has made everything distant, like I'm watching a slow-motion dream.

My back aches, but not as much as it should. No one will know I'm hurt but me. I hardly ever bruise or scar. My father said that whatever earth magic healed me as a baby made my skin impossible to mark.

So his beatings go unknown. Unreported. How can I accuse him of anything when he never leaves a mark?

The Grandfather clock chimes, signalling that the eleventh hour has arrived.

The key in my bedroom door unlocks before its last chime, and my Father opens it wide.

He's dressed in his best suit, looking very sophisticated and authoritative. The golden eagle on his cane has been polished, making it shine. His cufflinks glint in the candlelight. And his cold eyes attempt a comforting glance my way.

He makes no effort to help me stand. Once up, I face him.

I'm just as he wanted. My silver hair is up in loose curls, with a few delicate stands falling over my shoulder. The dress is on, showing my naked body beneath for all to see. No shoes. Light make-up. And his necklace around my neck.

‘Ready?' he says. It comes out as a question, but I know it's not.

He's telling me I'm ready.

Like it or not.

I. Am. Ready.

He steps aside, clearing the doorway for me, and stands silent as I pass.

Making my way through the house is painfully silent. All I hear is his cane tapping on the floor behind me. My dress offers the slightest swish as I move, but my heart is hammering in my ears, almost deafening me.

I walk through the open front door.

Walking to the fire is a rite of passage. They say it's a way for the blood moon to get a good look at us and help it to choose the magic we will inherit.

I stop at the gates of my father's precious house.

One day, I'll burn it down out of spite.

‘Here.' He hands me a lit black candle, and we walk on.

The owls hoot as they watch us, and the canopy above dances in the delicate breeze as if talking in whispers.

More join us on the path. Females dressed just like me and staring ahead just as anxiously. Our eyes meet briefly before they step out with their escorts at their backs. Some have both parents. Some entire families. I can't think of anything worse than having my whole family watch this nightmare. Knowing my father will be there is bad enough.

Only the females come like this. The males whose turn it is to join in the Rite will already be there by the fire.

Preparing.

Drinking spirits and smoking herbs that adle the mind.

This is a great night for them. One they have awaited since they were old enough to be told of it.

There are three girls ahead of me, and by the time I see the clearing ahead, there are seven more behind. The last girl I pass is Thalia. Her eyes are red and puffy, and when she sees me, she goes to speak. A harsh warning from her father ends her attempt. Good thing. Because I wouldn't hesitate to slam my fist into her face.

My feet stumble as I enter the clearing, and I'm horrified at the sheer number of eyes on me.

On all of us.

There must be thirty males here, all standing on the opposite side of a great pyre, taking stock of… well… their stock, I suppose.

To the left is a huddle of females in the same dress style as us but blue.

They're from the water coven. Another huddle wears silver. Air witches. Then, two females in orange. Very rare fire witches. Not many survived the war. They were on the front lines against the blood witches and the unseelie, using their mastery over fire to torch them alive. They were hunted by the blood coven and almost wiped out. A few live on, but with so few, their power is weak. Only a full coven, united by blood, can create a strong coven with powerful magic.

Which is why the blood rite is so essential. More witches joining the coven means more power. Add the potency of sex, lust and desire, and it's one hell of a power boost.

The males are eyeing us up.

Eleven girls.

Thirty men.

They all nudge each other and whisper, pointing to the females who catch their eye. Looking at all our naked bodies barely concealed in the varying colours of chiffon.

I notice I'm the only one with my hair up. Something I resent as the girls have used their locks to attempt to cover their tits from view.

The males part. From behind, Cole strides through.

All the females before him, and his eyes land on mine and mine alone. Those gathered at his side give him space. None dare get too close. No one would ever wish to end up on the wrong side of the most powerful son of the Coven, and everyone knows he doesn't like to be crowded. He holds up his flask and sips. Then he smiles and winks at me.

Fucking dick. I never realised how much I could hate someone until now.

They drink and talk. The more they drink, the louder they get.

I like the blonde one.

The dark-haired one's most appealing.

The one in the green dress with starlight hair is cute.

That final comment has three men from another coven glaring at me. Judging by their light blue cloaks, they're all from a water coven by the sea.

Cole leans in and says something to them all. Whatever he says has them lowering their heads and shuffling backwards, muttering their apologies.

I look at anything but the flames and notice the two steel bowls atop a pillar. One is filled with soil. The other with water. Beside them is a stone podium. A great book of ancient pages bound in ageless wood rests on it.

The Grimoire of the Earth Coven.

The many spells written inside of it may be spoken by any of us, but only the most powerful can use them. Can call the magic from its pages and master it.

One day, Cole will be able to read from the Grimoire, just as his father does now.

Prick.

I take to watching the sky. The moon is full, and on any other night, I would say it's beautiful. But when the lower edge turns red, it soon becomes a disgusting sight.

We all gather around the fire. The males on one side. Us on the other. I can taste the different auras in the air. The males are vibrating with excitement and lust. We're humming with stress and anxiety.

The chatter dies down. The air falls silent. The four coven leaders step forward, placing themselves in a neat line to our left. The one in blue is from the water coven. The one in silver is air. The old female in orange is fire. And the one in green is my coven leader.

Cole's father. Girdon LeSaint.

‘Welcome,' LeSaint declares, holding his arms wide to us all.

He looks much the same as his son, just older. The same eyes and features. He even stands the same way.

‘I welcome you all to the Blood Moon. It is such an honour to have you all here.' His eyes linger on me momentarily, and I know that his welcome doesn't really include me.

Cole's father withdraws a sheathed dagger from his pocket and holds it as if it could explode at any moment.

‘The moon blade,' he says quietly, the words a wonderous whisper almost. He unsheathes it and holds it high for all to see. ‘This steel has pierced the flesh of every witch born in the last hundred years. Thousands of souls. Thousands of powerful witches. It has tasted them all.'

He raises his palm, showing us the scar left there by that very blade.

All the coven members follow his lead, raising their palms with pride.

‘When the moon is red,' Cole's father continues, looking up to the sky. To the moon now half crimson. ‘You shall each approach the flames, take the blade and add your life's blood. The flames will tell you what you are and open your connection to that power. Then, you will swear your union to that coven. You will be bound to them as soon as the words are spoken. Your magic will grow its power, and even in death, your body will decay in your coven's hallowed ground, and your connection shall remain until all you are is dust.'

That's the truth of it. Others use our body, soul and essence until we're nothing. Even in death, we don't rest. And once this rite is done, we will never be free of the coven we are rited to. If we run, they will find us. If the humans catch us, we will become bones in their arches.

I start praying to the gods that I'll be a water witch. That I will be taken by them, away from my father. Away from Cole.

Sure, I'll still be fair game tonight, but I'd be away from here after that. And Cole won't have won. He couldn't have me to keep. No matter what.

I've always liked the idea of the sea. I'm told it's like the streams in our forests but endless.

But that's a dream. Or perhaps just a different nightmare. I have no idea what the other covens are like. What their rules are. It may be even worse. We're not allowed to mix after the rite. So, I have no idea. And besides, my father and mother were both earth. Chances are high I'll be earth. But sometimes, just sometimes, we're something else.

Magic is a funny thing.

‘Only together can we survive,' Cole's father continues. ‘Only as one can we harness the will of nature. From the earth.' He bends down and presses the tips of his fingers into the soil. ‘From the air.' He looks up to the sky and stands. ‘From the liquid of life. Water.' He gestures to the bowl. ‘And fire.'

He approaches the podium where the great earth coven Grimoire rests. Its page is open, ready for the coven leader to read from it.

He looks at the flames and starts to read. The fire turns black and blue.

With a blink, he faces the males of the air coven and holds out the blade.

‘Your eldest male first. Then, through to the youngest. After that, the females.'

The first male steps forward and takes the blade.

He cuts his palm, holding his hand over the fire and letting his blood spill into the flames.

A silver whisp wraps around his wrist.

‘Air,' he smiles. Then, he recites the words, binding himself to that coven for life. Silver markings snake up his forearm. The vow is left in ink. Unbreakable. Till death and beyond, he now belongs to the air coven.

Smiling, he returns to his friends. To words of congratulations and over-the-top pats on the back.

The next comes. He does the same. Air.

The next three follow in their footsteps.

Then, a water witch is found amongst them. The water rises from the bowl and wraps around his wrist, leaving behind blue markings.

The air females go next. All but two are air. One is Earth. Another is Fire. They all say their pledge and sob as they leave their coven and friends to join the strangers who welcome them.

Perhaps I'm the only one hoping to be something else. They look devastated. I would weep joyfully and laugh smugly at Cole and my father as I took my place amongst them.

Next, the fire witches.

All remain where they are, both male and female. They show no emotion at all as the orange marks stain their skin.

Then, the blade goes to Cole. The eldest Male.

When Cole approaches, everyone falls silent.

He cuts, adds his blood, and watches.

The bowl of dirt wraps around his wrist. He says his words and steps back, the green markings on his arm. He never looks away from me.

His father applauds loudly and welcomes his son with open arms.

The rest follow.

Cole's father takes back the blade when the last male makes his vow. It drips red, all their blood mixed and still warm. Then he walks to us and hands it to Thalia. The eldest female. Her hand is steady as she takes it. It seems she's unafraid. She doesn't hesitate and cuts, adding her blood to the fire. It spits and hisses.

Earth witch. Smiling, she hands it to the next. As she steps back in line, she watches Cole, chewing her lip.

And so it goes on. Each one varies. Some are trembling. Some are determined. Most are earth witches. One is water, and one is fire.

Then, the blade is handed to me.

The girl whose blood marks the blade freshest urges me to take it. I just stare at it. At that blade. At all that blood.

My father clears his throat, making me twitch. Still, my hand won't take the damned thing.

I step back.

‘Ashe,' my father warns. ‘You must add your blood, or your power will not come.'

I look at him. He has that smile. So well rehearsed. So kind.

Nothing but a lie.

He takes the blade and places it in my hand. I only grip it because he curls my fingers around the handle.

‘Add your blood. Get your magic. Before the crimson moon fades, Ashe. You must.' His hand tightens on mine. ‘Cut.'

In the distance, a wolf howls so loudly everyone turns to look. Everyone except us.

I have minutes until the blood moon ends. If I refuse, they will kill me right here and now.

Every witch must belong to a coven.

As the wolf howls, my father cuts me and thrusts my hand over the fire. The choice is taken from me.

With a hiss, my blood hits the flames.

I look at the dirt.

It vibrates, rises and encircles my wrist.

‘Yes,' my father whispers, staring at the dirt trail slowly dancing around my outstretched hand.

A hand settles on my cheek. When I look up, Cole is there, watching me like I'm the moon and stars.

‘My future bride!' he calls out. ‘Ashe Nectan. Earth witch!'

The coven all cheer as he makes his declaration. But I don't react. Unless it's to threaten him, I'm unsure I can do anything.

‘Say the words, Ashe,' Cole encourages, taking my hand from my father. ‘I swear to you, I will make everything right. I will never let you down again. I love you more than anything and will never hurt you again. Say the words and get your markings. Join the coven, and you will help me rule.'

The fire gives a second hiss. Then, a third.

The fire begins to spit.

Not embers. No. A wet droplet lands on my face. Warm and sticky. I feel and see red on the tips of my fingers. More spits out, like rain, showering them all in red.

In blood.

Frozen, I stare as more and more gets thrown outwards. Cole releases me and steps away, furiously wiping off the blood that continues to shower over him.

Then it stops. It all stops. The fire returns to normal. The forest falls silent.

The coven are all looking at me with terror. The females hold each other, and the males gather around them as if protecting them from something.

I look over my shoulder, expecting to see something terrifying.

There's nothing there.

I look at the blood on my hand. It's not dripping anymore but snaking around my hand and fingers, slithering like a serpent up my arm, just as the dirt did on my other.

‘BLOOD WITCH!' Cole's father roars, spit flying from his lips. He points at me. ‘GRAB HER!'