Chapter 22

The carriage rocks us back and forth as we travel through the woodland, and none of the guys have taken their eyes off me since we left the palace.

I'm personally amazed we're leaving, considering everything that happened.

‘Why are you all looking at me like that?' I ask finally.

‘We don't really know what to say, Pixie,' Shaw replies. ‘We cannot believe you did that to Cole.'

‘He deserved worse.'

‘I'm not sure there's much worse than having the woman you love spit your enemies' cum in your face an hour before you're to stand before the king,' Archie snorts. ‘Did you see his face? The complete shock right before he started throwing up everywhere?'

‘Did you see his face during the ceremony? He looked ready to tear us all apart,' I add. ‘I did enjoy seeing him kneel in front of you all, though.'

We all burst into laughter.

‘I just…' Archie folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his seat as he surveys me. ‘You are a very unusual Earth Witch.'

‘That's because I'm not just an Earth Witch.' I look to Shaw. ‘Did you know he was waiting for me in that wardrobe?'

‘I put the idea in his head to seek you out when I dream walked with him last night,' he admits. ‘I needed to know if he knew your trigger.'

‘Another minute, he would have had me-'

‘We were watching you the entire time, Pixie. He was never going to touch you. I even told him what words to say, making sure he didn't compel you to touch him.' He settles back and wraps his cloak further around his body before closing his eyes. ‘I'm going to sleep for a while. Can you behave whilst I rest?'

‘I always behave. What did you see in Cole's dreams?' Shaw peers over the collar of his cloak at me.

‘You,' he replies. ‘First, he was trying to rescue you from us. A real knight in shining armour, riding in and sweeping you off your feet. Then he had you and was making you pay for betraying him.'

‘How was he making me pay?'

‘Let's just say what he tried to do to you was a day at the beach compared to what he did to you in his dreams.'

‘Fucker tried to mouth rape me.'

‘There's nothing more dangerous than a man who is used to getting his way and being denied what he wants by someone who has no right turning him down.'

‘I have every right.'

‘Not according to him. To him, he owns you. We've taken you. And you've abandoned him.'

‘Deluded prick,' Archie scoffs.

‘Oh yeah. Absolutely,' Shaw agrees. ‘But he's still dangerous. And we still need to keep the peace.'

‘I promise I won't spit cum in his face again,' I offer.

‘Let's not say anything rash,' Shaw says before closing his eyes again. ‘That was the funniest shit I've ever seen.'

‘Perhaps we should return the Grimoire?' I hate to suggest it, but that would give him one less reason to come after us.

‘You're keeping the Grimoire. I already said.'

As we travel, my attention goes to Dorian beside me. He's distracted and shifting in his seat. I hold out my hand and unwind the charms he gave me.

‘I'm fine,' he grunts.

‘I have no doubt. Maybe I just want to hold your hand. And your aura is like thorns on my skin. It's uncomfortable.'

He takes my hand with a heavy eye roll, and I wrap the charms around his fingers. He visibly relaxes and lets out a breath.

‘Did you ever find my charms?' I ask.

Dorian shakes his head.

‘How do you make Poppet dolls?' I ask.

Dorian reaches into his pocket and hands me Cole's Poppet. It's a strange little thing. Crude and ugly, but certainly holds a resemblance to my ex. The hair is soft. It even smells like him.

‘How did you get his hair?'

‘He was talking to a maid. I'm quiet and quick when I want to be.'

‘If I squeeze it now, will he feel it?'

‘No. It's my doll. Besides, we're pretty far away from him now. He's gotta be close for it to work.'

‘Can you teach me to make one?'

‘I could try. But I'm not gonna.'

‘Why not?'

‘Never mind the fact that you could make one of us. It's not your Kindred, Poppet. So it would take years to get you skilled enough to do a half-assed attempt.'

‘I'm not going anywhere, and I'm a good student.'

He returns it to his pocket and looks like he's about to say something. But his mouth closes.

‘I'll trade you for it,' I offer.

‘I'm listening.'

‘What do you want?' I ask.

‘What are you offering?'

I smile.

‘You can have me for a night?'

‘And what would I do with you?'

‘Anything.' I shrug.

He gives a low chuckle and returns his focus out of the window.

‘I said no, Poppet. You're quite dangerous enough.'

More silence.

‘Are you going to marry me?' I ask Shaw.

‘I'm trying to sleep,' Shaw grumbles.

‘No offence, but I don't want to marry anyone.'

‘You wanna go back to Cole?' Shaw replies, his words muffled as he remains buried in his cloak.

‘Obviously not. But the king was pretty clear.'

‘Don't worry about it.'

‘Easy for you to say.'

‘Even if we marry, it won't mean anything, Pixie. Just that I take responsibility for you, which I already have. It's not like I will want you to give me children or manage my house. And I think I've made it clear you can be as liberal as you want with the three of us. So just do me a favour and be quiet so I can sleep, yeah?'

‘Fine.'

‘Great.'

‘I wonder where my father is,' I muse, looking out the window. ‘Do you know? I bet-'

Shaw leans forward with a tut and a sigh and blows sleep dust in my face.

‘Prick…' I sigh as I fall back in a forced exhaustion. My eyes close.

‘Finally,' he says, leaning back. ‘Some peace.'

Dorian wraps his arm around my shoulders so I can snuggle into his side.

‘You can't just sleep dust her every time she asks questions you don't want to answer, you know,' he grumbles.

‘Watch me.'

The darkness of a dreamless sleep claims me.

‘What the… Wake up. EVERYONE! WAKE UP!'

Archie's elbow jabs into my ribs, and I sit with a start. The carriage hasn't even stopped before Dorian and Shaw leap out.

The unmistakable orange glow of a fire illuminates the sky. Archie's grabbed the scruff of my neck and dragged me out, pulling me along as we run towards the flames. We skid to a stop when we see part of the castle on fire. Many of the creatures who live here are desperately trying to put it out.

‘What's happened?' I gasp, wincing as Archie tightens his grip on me.

‘Come on!' he orders. We run closer, stopping where Shaw is hastily barking orders at anyone nearby. ‘What's happened?'

‘Fire started an hour ago,' Shaw replies, his eyes wide and the reflection of the flames flickering in them. ‘No one saw how it started, but it will destroy everything if we don't stop it!' He looks at the two guys. They all share a look I don't understand. Something unspoken between them. Something they won't say aloud.

Archie joins the others, grabbing buckets of water and roaring orders. I step aside, trying to keep out of the way. The fire is fierce and will ravage the entire castle in a few hours if all they have are buckets of water to stop it.

I run past the others and ignore them as they tell me to stop. When I feel the heat of the fire on my face, I fall to my knees and sink my hands into the dirt.

My eyes close and I let out a long, calming breath.

I feel the earth below. Feel its force. Its balance. Its noise. The life below, churning and grinding. Most think the soil is silent, but it's not. There's more life in the dirt than there is in the air. It's constantly moving.

I utter a few words, connecting to the power beneath my fingers. I hear Dorian running up behind me, but before he gets there, the ground explodes. Dirt and soil rise up from beside me, and as I exhale, it charges forward like a great wave. I travel with it, feeling it through my connection. Guiding it and forcing it forward into the heat. Through the windows. Through the doors. Along the halls, smothering the flames in mud and dirt. It's as if a violent sea washes through the castle, dousing the fire.

Only when it's all out, and only smoke remains, do I sever the link and slump, gasping and panting with a headache so painful I throw up.

When a hand settles on my shoulder, I flinch.

‘Don't,' I manage, every word making my brain throb. ‘Leave me be.'

‘How did you do that?' Shaw asks, kneeling beside me.

‘My coven used to… when fires broke out… I just…' I groan again, my head pounding.

Living in a forest, fires happen often. I saw many of the elder coven members extinguish fires that way. Saw them kneel and speak to the magic beneath us. Saw the wave of mud.

But in truth, they were far more experienced and trained than I. And several witches always worked as one to do what I just did, and I never saw them make a wave that big. I didn't expect it, and I didn't expect to follow the wave as if I were the wave itself.

I certainly didn't expect the pain it's left me with.

‘Shit.' My head lolls, and with a groan, I fall on my side. ‘Is it out?'

He nods and looks at the castle.

‘Go,' I whisper. ‘There are injured inside.'

‘How do you know?'

‘I saw them. Please… I need a minute.'

He gets to his feet and runs towards the others.

I'm put in the main hall whilst the guys and some of their men work through the part of the castle that caught fire. I sit on the floor with my head on my knees, willing the world to stop spinning. Kieran, the male Fae, sits with me, offering me water I can't stomach and speaking words of comfort I can't stand to hear. My head pounds, sending stabbing pains throughout my entire body. Kieran settles on rubbing slow circles on my back. It helps, and I'm thankful.

That is until a high-pitched voice pierces my ears.

‘Happy now?'

‘Not now, Banshee,' I reply, not even lifting my head.

‘This is your fault, you know,' she accuses.

‘She wasn't even here,' Kieran retorts, his hand still offering me gentle comfort.

‘My masters have made this castle and its lands a sanctuary for creatures who would otherwise be killed out in the world. She's here for less than a month, and we've been attacked twice.'

I manage to lift my head. She's scowling at me. Her skin is covered in soot and ash. Her hair is a ratty mess, and the stench of smoke oozes off her.

‘Fuck off.' I force myself to my feet, helped by Kieran, who grips my elbows to keep me up. ‘I'm not in the mood. Kieran. Can you help me up to my room?'

‘Sure.'

‘My masters said for her to stay here.'

‘I want to go to bed. Move.'

I go to walk around her. She screams, releasing her banshee cry. It's otherworldly and utter agony. I'm on my knees, hands clasped over my ears and screaming in pain. Kieran falls with me, resting his hands over mine to at least try and help protect me. She stops and slams her hand on her hip.

‘My masters told you to stay. So you will stay.'

All I can do is fall forward, whimpering as I cradle my head. Pain. I'm in so much pain I can't move. I daren't even cry through fear my brain will explode and dribble through my ears.

‘What the hell is happening?' Dorian bellows. ‘Ashe?' He charges towards us and kneels beside me. His hand settle on the back of my head, making me whimper. ‘Why are you screaming, Banshee?'

‘She was trying to escape,' she complains.

‘She was trying to go to bed, you fucking hag,' Kieran argues. ‘Dorian. She's in an incredible amount of pain. She can barely move. She needs to sleep it off. That bitch's scream just about finished your witchling off.'

‘Your head is that bad?' Dorian asks gently, his hands resting on my shoulders as he eases me up.

I slump into his chest, sinking into him.

‘I've never seen an earth witch her age do magic like that before,' Kieran says. ‘I don't think I have ever seen it full stop. To have such a command over the soil. To send it far from her sight.'

‘She needs rest,' Dorian replies, scooping me up in his arms. ‘I'll take her to bed.'

‘She may have some serious damage, Dorian. That level of power isn't normal for-'

‘We'll look after her, Kieran.'

‘But-'

‘She's not yours to look after, Kieran! She's ours. Our witch. Our responsibility.'

I'm carried away, feeling awful that Kieran was treated so rudely when all he was doing was trying to help. But I have no strength to argue.

‘It's a mistake,' Kieran calls after us, making Dorian's stride slow to a stop. ‘And you know it is.'

‘Is that so?' I tense hearing the warning rumble of the shadow master lurking beneath.

‘I respect all you have done for us. For the haven you have made. But whatever you intend to do with your… earth witch… it's a mistake. Whatever you have downstairs… it's wrong.'

Dorian growls. ‘Noted.'

His strides resume, and we're soon heading upstairs.

‘Dorian?'

‘Yes, Pixie?'

‘He knows, doesn't he? Kieran knows what I am.'

‘Don't concern yourself with it.' He continues to climb the steps. ‘Kieran likes you. More than he should. He won't say anything.'

‘Who attacked? The castle… the fire…'

‘The earth coven Grimoire is gone, Pixie,' he tells me. ‘Cole sent his little mud bastards to attack as we were away, and they got it back.' He tenses as cold dread swirls in my stomach. ‘Now. None of that panic, please. Feeling you all in a flutter is not what I need nor want.'

‘The fire was my fault.'

‘You started the blaze, did you?'

‘No. But Cole would have sent them to attack. Ordered them to get the Grimoire I stole.'

I'm unsure what has me feeling worse. The fact that the castle was attacked or that the grimoire is gone. I wanted to learn more about my earth magic. It may have been the only way to save my soul.

He carries me along the hall. ‘It doesn't matter.'

Doesn't matter? The fire? The earth coven stealing from them? Kieran, suspecting or even knowing what I truly am?

I peer up at him. He stares dead ahead, seemingly distant and far calmer and composed than I would expect.

I'm surprised to see Archie and Shaw already there when we enter the bedroom. Both look utterly dishevelled and covered in soot. They stop speaking as soon as the door opens, and both stand as Dorian carries me in.

‘How are you feeling, Pixie?' Archie asks.

‘Her head is hurting, and she needs sleep,' Dorian replies on my behalf. He lays me on the bed, carefully resting my head on the pillow.

They all look down at me.

‘I'm sorry,' I tell them. ‘The fire's my fault.'

Again, they share a look, sharing some silent understanding that makes the back of my throat burn.

‘Why don't you care?' I ask. ‘You tore off a man's hands for touching me, yet they burn down your home, and you do nothing?'

Shaw leans down, holds out his palm, and blows.

I try to stop inhaling his sleep dust, but it's a task too impossible to achieve. The scent of lavender fills my nostrils. It fills my head. The pain fades, which is a welcomed relief.

‘Sleep, Pixie,' Shaw says softly.

‘Dream walk with me?' I mumble. ‘I don't want to be alone.'

‘Not tonight, Pix. But I'll make sure you're at peace as you sleep.' He kisses my forehead. ‘Rest easy. We're watching over you.'

My eyes close, and the gentle breaking of crisp blue waves greets me.

I hear Shaw speak somewhere in the distant fog of the real world.

‘We can't wait any longer. We need to do this before she gets too powerful, gets killed, or we're discovered. We almost lost the grimoire in the fire, along with the other items we need. If we don't do this now, we may never get another chance.'

‘This cycle?' Dorian asks. ‘That's in three days. She needs more time. Her soul may not survive it.'

‘This cycle,' Shaw agrees heavily. ‘She's strong enough, Dorian. I know it.'

The bed is empty when I wake. The sheets are cold, and it's clear I was the only one who slept here. I sit, seeing the beginning of sunrise through the window. I've come to enjoy sleeping under Shaw's control. Watching those waves on a perfect beach, a warm sun shining down on me. When he's there, it's better. A strange confession to make to myself, but a truth anyway. I enjoy his peaceful company when he gives it. When he lies beside me and watches the clouds. When he runs his fingers along my arm or sweeps the hair from my face in a breeze. A breeze he creates. One to give him a reason to sweep my hair aside.

‘We can't wait much longer. We need to do this before she gets too powerful.'

Did I dream that? I heard it. I'm sure. But I was sleeping when Shaw's voice drifted on the sea breeze. I try to remember more of what I heard, but dreams are tricky to remember, often slipping through my fingers like sand.

Hunger drives me from my bed, and I head to the kitchens in search of food.

The halls are quiet. The walls are still stained black, and debris from the fire has been swept to the sides. As I pass an open window, I notice the residents who take refuge in the castle sitting together, drinking and talking about last night's events.

There's a sombre mood to it. A grief.

They lost people. I saw at least two bodies as I sent the mud through the blaze.

The boys aren't among those by the fire. I imagine they're in the house somewhere, sorting out the mess my old coven caused. All to take the grimoire I stole from them.

‘We almost lost the grimoire in the fire, along with the other items we need.'

I remember those words, too. Mixed with the sound of gently crashing waves.

Dream or real? The grimoire was stolen. Those words make no sense to me.

I hear the distant sound of what I think is a scream. I turn, a chill travelling down my spine. Unmoving, I strain to hear it again. I do, and I run towards the sound. The idea of one of the guys being hurt fills me with panic.

Did one of my old coven stay behind to finish the job they started with the fire? To assassinate the guys? To make them pay for taking me? Protecting me?

When I reach the doors leading down to the cellar, it clicks open, and I'm sure I see the faintest orange mist fade.

The banshee? Is she here?

I hear another scream. It's muffled but bone-chilling. My feet take me to the door, instinct and curiosity taking over, forcing common sense deep down.

I open the door fully and follow the steps down. The muffled screaming gets louder. I follow it all the way to the far end of the hall, past the room where the corpse of the earth witch I reanimated lay. Past three other doors made of solid steel, beyond which I have no idea what lies behind. The far door is ajar. It's from the slight gap that the pain-filled wailing drifts through.

I open it.

And everything inside me stops.

Shaw stands over a male who has been strapped to a stone slab. Dorian and Archie are on either side of the table, holding him down as he thrashes.

My father.

His body is battered and broken. Marks, both new and in various stages of healing, cover every inch. His fingernails have been pulled. His teeth shattered. His limbs are twisted, and cuts ooze puss from infection.

He's been tortured.

His mouth has been gagged, and tears stream down his face as he desperately tries to get free.

His feet kick out. His fingers claw at the stone, and the sobs mix with the screams, making my stomach twist in knots.

Shaw is hacking at his chest, sawing him open. Blood squirts over his face as Dorian and Archie bury their hands inside and rip open his ribcage. The sound of tearing muscles and snapping bones is barely audible over my father's agonising screams, and before I can blink, Shaw has pulled out his still-beating heart. Father looks at it, at his own fucking heart in another man's hand. At the blood dripping onto his open chest.

‘I am so glad you needed to be alive as I did this.' Shaw leans over him, hate carving deep lines on his formidable face. ‘If only you had loved her as she deserved. Then you would not have ended up like this.'

Shaw spits in his open chest cavity as my father's gaze moves from Shaw and lands on me before, with a slow blink that releases tears down his bloody cheeks, my father dies.

I let out the breath I was holding, and all three men turn to face me at the sound. Their eyes widen as I just stand there, dumbstruck and frozen in horror.

It's then I see the book resting on the corner of the slab. Just the same as the book I stole from my coven. The same size. The same taste of magic and power emanating from it.

It's a Grimoire.

But a deep red one with a grotesque covering of what I'm pretty sure is human flesh.

It's dark and twisted. Evil. A book of death. I hear it. It sings to me.

Beside it is my snake, sealed in a clear box. Trapped. Kept away from me.

Even worse, cast aside in the corner, like rubbish waiting to be tossed out, two others.

‘Oh my gods…' I cry, my hands covering my mouth so I don't scream.

Kieran stares into nothing. Dead. His throat slit, and both his hands severed at the wrists. The hands lie neatly beside him. The fingers are still twitching.

On her side, unconscious with her wrists and ankles bound, is Thalia. She's still wearing the same dress she wore to the swearing-in ceremony. Blood stains her lower jaw and chest. Beside her, held in a black bowl, her severed tongue rolls around as if still trying to speak.

‘Pixie,' Shaw says slowly as if talking to someone standing on a cliff's edge, readying themselves to jump. I look away from the gore and death, back to him. ‘Pixie, we can explain.'

It's blood magic. Dark and sick blood magic. They all face me, every muscle tensed as they watch me. Waiting. My mouth remains agape. My eyes are unable to blink.

‘W-what are you doing?' I ask through a painfully tight throat. ‘What…' I take another look at the absolute carnage. ‘Blood magic? Why…'

I step back. It's a small step, more of a stumble, really. But they panic. Their faces go stone-like.

‘Grab her!' Shaw orders.

Dorian and Archie charge.

That scares me just as much as what I just saw and has me sprinting away, running with all I have to escape.