Page 51 of The Fearless Witch

“Wait!” Paula shouted. When I didn’t stop, she grabbed my arm and whirled me around. “Samara, we talked about this! You need to do this!”

“I took care of it,” I snarled, and she looked me over, her eyes widening in surprise. “Now I need to go. Return the human where you found him and make sure nothing happens to him.” I glanced at the man standing by my door, grimacing. “We have enough problems as it is.”

“Go?” Paula repeated while I moved to leave. “Go where? We need to meet with the Guiding Hand again! You can’t just leave! There are things…”

I turned to face her but continued to walk backward as I threw my hands in the air.

“I’m the Head Witch of the Coven of the Hallowed Goddess! I go where I please! And right now, I have more important things to deal with than a bunch of old hags who think this is the end of the world. Because they know nothing!” I used Paula’s confusion to gain more distance, hurrying toward the door before she could stop me again. “Keep them occupied until I return. If they try something, remind them they are our guests. They’d do well to remember that a witch’s biggest strength is her Coven and currently,” I smirked, enjoying the feeling of power and contentment that filled my being even though I knew it wouldn’t last long, “we are the most powerful here.”

Chapter 22

Celeste

Iwas in heaven and the angels were singing—that was my first thought as I slowly woke up, listening to the lovely song that filled my ears. Then I remembered I didn’t have a soul and the last time I checked, I was in Hell, and that theory fell apart. So where was the singing coming from?

Peeling my eyelids open, I blinked a few times while trying to find the source of the melody. The first thing I noticed was that I was lying in the bed; the second thing was that I was naked, covered only with a thin black sheet that had entangled itself around my legs. Something was pressing on my stomach, so I held my breath as I lifted the cover to see what that bastard might have done to me.

Neatly wrapped bandages around my abdomen wasn’t what I expected to find.

The voice returned, singing in low, flawless notes. Even though there were no distinguishable words, the feeling of loneliness, heartbreak, and just a flicker of hope it conveyed made my heart ache in a way it hadn’t for almost two thousand years. I could barely breathe by the time I pushed myself to my elbows and found where it was coming from. Or rather, who.

Standing in just a pair of gray sweatpants with his back to the bed, Beleth fussed over what looked like breakfast for two while humming that haunting melody. The muscles on his back flexed, tattoos shimmering almost like they were alive, and when he reached for the knife lying beside the plate, a cold chill crawled down my spine.

I shook it off just as the melody ceased mid-note and his head snapped toward me. Relief flooded my chest when I noticed his eyes were gray, not black, and his smile was apologetic, not full of all things wicked. Still, my body refused to relax entirely.

“Cyrus,” I whispered, and the edges of his lips quivered in confirmation.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, turning back to the table. He picked up whatever he was working on and carried it to the bed, his steps slowing when he approached my side. He studied my face for a moment before sitting on the edge. It took a great deal of effort not to gawk at the overflowing tray with eggs, sausages, fresh tomatoes, and bread he put on my lap. There was even a tiny vase with black roses that seemed to be… dripping blood.

I pulled the plate away just before a drop fell on my eggs and he cursed, grabbing the vase and placing it on the floor.

“Sorry, I wanted you to have something pretty to look at! I forgot the ones here bleed once they’re cut from the stem,” he laughed awkwardly. “The food is good, though. No blood or dead meat or anything strange.” He winced, giving me a sheepish grin. “Well, the meat was dead when the sausage was made, I suppose, but none of those things came from Hell. So eat up! It will help you regain your strength.”

I looked down at the plate again, contemplating whether I should trust him on that when my stomach growled loud enough for the whole infernal plane to hear. Picking up the fork, I stabbed one of the sausages and brought it to my mouth. A quick sniff told me absolutely nothing, but the first bite was enough to confirm that it was delicious. As I started devouring the rest of the breakfast, Cyrus watched me with a delighted expression that made it hard to swallow.

“Was that you?” I asked. “The singing.”

“You heard that?” he gasped, his face flushing with color. It was still an odd thing to see, considering the menacing aura his vessel had even when he was in charge. “It’s just a silly habit from before.”

“It was beautiful,” I said, and his cheeks turned even redder. He seemed so carefree, his smile so unguarded and easy, like it didn’t bother him that I had tried to kill him. That I did kill him, in a way. Or that Beleth had… gone off the deep end like… like the demon he was, I suppose. And now Cyrus was making me breakfast and bringing me bleeding roses.

What a mess.

“Listen, Cyrus, I’m sorry for…” I tried to stab another piece of sausage, but my fork slipped and the bite flew out of the plate and onto the ground. Sighing, I put the utensil down and forced myself to look at him. “I’m sorry for attacking you. I know demons can’t die, so I figured you’d be fine after a while. I just… I want to get out.”

A shadow fell over his face and he stared down as he twisted his fingers.

“How can you apologize after…” His knuckles turned white from squeezing them too hard and when he looked at me, his eyes were full of tears. “What he did to you was horrible and…” He sucked in a shuddering breath, his face changing through several emotions as he struggled to express himself. I stopped myself before I could nod because even though it was Cyrus trembling in front of me right now, I was sure Beleth was watching. And I’d be damned if I let him see me admit that he hurt me. “How can you call my singing beautiful and even apologize when he… he…” His shoulders dropped, and he sighed heavily as if he couldn’t bring himself to voice his thoughts.

My first instinct was to smile and say it was nothing, but the words refused to come out. I had been through worse, much worse, and eventually I had grown used to it. Being hurt, being humiliated, being killed… I had stopped caring at one point just because it was easier.

The remorse on Cyrus’ face was so deep and raw that it caused a giant crack to form on the high, protective walls I had surrounded myself with. Most of the people who had hurt me… they never regretted it. They reveled in my blood, cheered at my pain, and danced at my demise. Pretending they didn’t hurt me was the only way I could fight back. Seeing how little their actions affected me, even with the horrendous things they did, it slighted their triumph and soured their victory. After all, this was their one chance at punishing a monster while I… I’d just come back like nothing had ever happened. Like they didn’t matter at all.

But looking at Cyrus now, it reminded me of how it was… before. Before accepting pain and torture as something normal, something to be expected. Because it wasn’t. People went their whole lives without getting beaten, broken, or betrayed. And if it happened, they needed years to heal from what I had spent centuries ignoring. And… I was tired of pretending that I didn’t hate it.

The crack in my walls widened and the whole thing swayed, ready to crumble. I kept standing in the middle of it, staring at the looming shadow and trying to remember how to run.

It was Cyrus’ voice that pulled me out of my mind, just in time to avoid the deadly tumble.

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