Chapter 19

On the bed, I stare at the ceiling. I play with the charms Dorian gave me, twisting and rolling them between my fingers. I wonder, if I take them off, will I see that man smashing his head into the wall? They only see me when I see them. They only come for me when they know I can see.

That little slice of a soul. That stain of pain left behind.

Archie snores as he sleeps beside me, arms and legs forward like a dog.

Shaw shifts. I roll over to see him sitting on the floor with his back against the door. He's holding a dagger tightly in his hand. I blink, seeing his eyes are pure white. I sit and go towards him. He stares into nothing, eyes wide and ghostly pale.

‘He's dream walking,' Dorian says. I hadn't seen him in the armchair. The fire embers cast him in a dull orange glow, making him look even more sinister than usual. ‘Best not to disturb him. He gets annoyed.'

‘He's dream walking right now?' I ask. He nods once. ‘Whose dreams?'

‘Not sure. I thought yours.'

‘I couldn't sleep,' I reply.

‘You seeing anything?' he asks quietly, glancing around the room.

‘No. You?'

‘Nothing worth worrying about.' His eyes drift to the far corner of the room for a second.

I turn to look at that empty space.

‘Your shadows. They belong to those you killed.'

He doesn't reply.

‘Is that what you see now? The shadows?'

He gives a little nod.

I stand and walk towards him. He doesn't move.

‘They said you linked us. That your soul and mine are connected now.' He looks up at me, not showing what he's thinking or feeling. ‘I don't really understand what that means. It made Shaw mad, whatever it is.'

‘It doesn't matter.'

‘Can you explain it to me?'

He looks away. I slide myself into his line of sight.

‘I thought you didn't like me. Why would you help me?'

‘Drop it, poppet.'

I look at him as he glares at me. A full stare full of menace and warning. It would have had me running away a couple of days ago. But something feels different now, not just with him but all of them. There's been a shift. They're no longer monsters who live to terrorise others. I've seen something else. I know I have.

I slowly walk towards him, my bare feet silent on the floor. He watches me get closer. I sit in his lap and curl up small.

‘What… what are you doing?' he asks.

His body has stiffened. I unwind some of the charm bracelets, but he takes my hand and stops me.

‘I'm used to seeing the monsters in the dark. And mine can't hurt me. Not like yours can.'

‘They do something to you, though. It can't be nice to see the shadows of those you killed in the corner of the room.'

I lace my fingers between his and wrap the bracelet around both our hands.

Instantly, he relaxes. His muscles unclench, and I sink into him, my head resting on his shoulder.

‘Thank you for helping me earlier.'

‘I had no choice. You were going to give us away with all that screaming.'

‘Could have just knocked me out if that's what you wanted.'

A grunt is all I get in response.

‘If they arrest us, what way do you think they'll kill us?' I shift my head to look up at him. His dark eyes watch me huddled up in his frame. ‘Burning? Hanging? Cutting?'

‘No one is killing you.'

‘I hope it's not by cutting.' My hand runs up my arm, remembering each slash delivered by the coven. ‘I think I would rather hang. At least then my neck might snap, and it will be quick.'

‘We said,' he growls, the corner of the room darkening as he speaks. ‘No one is killing you.' His voice is like a hundred speaking all at once but all dangerously dark and demonic. It makes me ice cold on the inside as well as out. But I also feel the pain. The fear. The vulnerability of the creature deep inside. Dorian. I feel him struggling for control. Determined not to sink into the darkness of those souls.

I rest my hand on his cheek. I feel those shadows. Those souls clawing at him, desperate to get inside. I feel their hatred and violence. Their need for pain and suffering. I sense them feeling me. It's as if they all turn to look at me. The sensation of dozens of eyes on me has the hair standing up on the back of my neck.

Quiet…

I whisper the words in my mind, speaking to them directly.

Calm…

The dark veins withdraw, and I know the shadows have gone still. Dorian lets out a long exhale and settles under my touch.

‘How did you do that?' he asks, his dark eyes searching mine.

‘I speak to the dead, remember? I told them to piss off.'

‘How did you get them to listen?'

I slowly shake my head. ‘I have no fucking idea. But strangely, I get the feeling they like me.'

Slowly, his arms wrap around me. His fingers find mine, and they knot together. He nestles his face in my hair and exhales deeply.

‘I will never allow anyone to kill you,' he says in a low promise. ‘But if I find out that any of this is a trick on your part, Poppet, I will be the one that ends you.'

‘Any of what is a trick?' I ask, sinking in further as he pulls me in.

‘What I'm feeling. How you make me feel.'

‘How do you feel?'

His mouth settles by my neck. He gives my skin the most tender kiss.

‘Like I can finally find peace with you in my life.'

My body erupts in goosebumps.

‘I don't want to trust you,' he says. ‘But I do. I don't want to need you. And yet, I am compelled to.'

He lifts his head. I search his eyes, trying to see the joke. The cruelty. All I see is him, clearer than I have ever seen. Clearer than I have seen anyone. Shaw and Archie included.

‘I made the link between us because I want to feel you. Know you. Have you. Protect you from the shadows and the ghosts. From being afraid,' he says.

‘And that made Shaw mad?'

‘Shaw is mad because it's a connection he will never have with you. With anyone. No one except those who see death as we do can link like this. And my linking tells him that I will never let you leave. That I own a piece of you which no one can ever touch. I can feel you. Feel your fear and pain. Your joy. I have just told Shaw that I am never letting you go.'

‘But…' I stare at him. ‘The way you've been. The way you've-'

‘I'm darkness incarnate, Poppet. Death. Do you think I ever want to have someone I care about get pulled into what I am? I tried to hate you. It was like endlessly pulling myself out of quicksand.'

‘You care about me?' I whisper, my voice breaking. ‘Actually, care? Not just want me because of my blood?'

‘I care. More than I should. More than you deserve.'

‘Because I'm a blood witch?'

‘No. Because when I care about others… nothing good befalls them. And for that, I'm sorry.'

A heartfelt tear slides past my cheek. He cares about me. Me! He wipes the tear away and leans in. His lips meet mine. Not hungry. Not desperate, but with a longing shared between us both. His tongue glides with mine. His breath feels warm. He nips my lip and laps up the small bead of blood he spills.

‘Dorian?'

‘Yes, poppet?'

‘After I got shot with the arrow when you and the others were waiting to fix me…' I feel his body stiffen as I speak. ‘You guys said it was your nature to be drawn to witches like me. Like moths to a flame.'

‘I didn't know you were listening when we were talking.'

‘You said, "We may be mated to the bitches, but I don't have to be a slave to primal needs placed on me by fate.".' He holds my gaze. It's utterly unreadable. ‘What does that mean? Mated?'

‘It's complicated.'

‘Please, Dorian? I feel like I'm surrounded by secrets and half-truths. What does Mated mean?'

He takes in a long breath and lets it out slowly.

‘We're not mortals, Ashe. We're not men, witches, or any of the creatures you may find in the swamps or mountains of this land. We're creatures born from blood. Called into this world by Gods and Goddesses. My mistress was Hel. Goddess of the damned. Blood magic called me to the mortal world thousands of years ago, stealing me from her service. I swept across the land as a shadow. As death in the dark. A monster none could name. I could not even name myself. I was blind to rage and destruction, devoid of any consciousness beyond that. Until those same blood witches, generations apart, sealed me in the dead body of a murderous witch who slaughtered for pleasure. I had a vessel. But I was compelled to obey and adore those witches who freed me and made me flesh.' He swallows uncomfortably. ‘I was trapped in the body of the murderous witch by a blood witch named Dhalia a little over forty years ago. She was-'

‘The blood Queen's sister,' I finish, almost too afraid to speak the words.

Again, he nods.

‘The way she trapped me meant I needed her blood to have access to my powers. To control the shadows. To make them do as I wanted or to keep them at bay. She commanded I kill. The more I killed, the more shadows I had. The more shadows, the more I needed her blood. It was as if she had a spell on me. I craved her. Her attention. Her approval. Her body. To be mated to something is to be stuck in their gravity. To need them. To have them fill your every waking moment.'

‘You felt like that with Dhalia?' I ask.

I hate that he nods.

‘You killed her, though.'

‘I did,' he replies. ‘I crushed her under stones enchanted with anti-magic. Beneath them, she was just a female. And her body broke just the same. It took a long time to get the strength to turn my back on her. To join the humans and to lead the armies against her. But I did.' He shifts, pulling me deeper into him. ‘She was peace.'

‘Peace?' I would use many words to describe the blood coven queen and her sisters. Peace would never be one of them.

‘The noise stopped when I was close to Dhalia. The rage eased. Her blood was a drug. I was made in Hell. Lived centuries as a shadow of death. Then, I was crammed into a vessel. She was light in the dark. A pull so strong I thought I would break apart if I tried to step away. It destroyed me to do so.' He looks at me, his fingers holding my chin. ‘I am mated to blood magic. It is the only place I find peace.'

‘So you're attracted to me because you're mated to my magic?'

‘Perhaps.'

‘If I wasn't a blood witch, would you-'

‘I don't know. But you are. I am a moth. You are a flame. I tried to fight it, but I'm too weak to push you away. And as Archie rightly says, you are not your normal blood witch. You give life. Save life. Protect it. No other witch like you has ever done that. All there is for a blood witch is blood. Power. Death.'

‘What if that changes?' I ask. ‘What if one day, I give in and become just like them? Like Neve and her sisters? Like Dhalia?'

He leans in and whispers, ‘Then I will kill you and keep your soul for my own.'

He smiles. And I have no idea if his words are teasing or a promise.

‘Sleep in my arms tonight, Poppet. Let's leave the monsters in the dark. Where they belong.'

As I close my eyes, the fire hisses and spits, and sleep finally comes for my shadow master and me.