Page 65 of Things Get Dark

The blood witch shall reign supreme.”

When the last word has finished echoing around us, Anwen slumps forward, almost like her soul has been sucked out of her body. A few seconds later, she takes a big gulping breath and runs her hands through her hair, looking exhausted.

“Good job, sister.” Bronwyn conjures another cup of tea, offering her sister a small smile.

“What did that even mean? A blood witch? Anchoring stitches?” I chew on my bottom lip, thoughts going a million miles a minute. “But blood witches are dark witches…”

“Yes. Usually.”

“I…this isn’t about me. It can’t be. I’m not a blood witch.”

“There’s no way to stop the wheels of fate once they’ve started turning,” Anwen grumbles as she sips her tea and eyes us wearily.

I was going to bring about a war? No way. I wasn’t a dark witch. They had it wrong. And my father…there is no way he believes this prophecy. That must be why he hasn’t shown me the grimoire. He’s trying to protect me from this, this…lie. As ifAnwen can read my mind, she rolls her eyes at me, muttering under her breath about naïve witches.

“The seals are breaking, Poppy. Fighting the flow of the river will only mean you both drown.” Bronwyn rubs my arm, trying to offer me comfort, instead I shrink back into Manon. “Do you understand?”

“No…no I don’t understand.”

Manon

I can feel the panic coursing through my little witch’s body as she tries to decipher the prophecy. I may not know magic the same way the witches do, but even I know the power of a foretold future. And I can feel the magic in this place.

These witchy sisters may look harmless with their kind eyes and soft smiles, but creatures who can conjure the universe inside their fleshy shells are not to be underestimated.

Poppy trembles and mutters to herself until we finally leave, long after the sun has set. The Powell sisters gift her a bag with some tools to guide her on her journey and while Poppy hasn’t noticed, I don’t miss the crescent moon shaped blade they place inside while she’s distracted.

“I need to speak with my father. He’ll know what to do, and he’ll fix this.” Her determination is admirable, if a little foolish.

As we wait for our bus, I turn her to face me. Under the streetlight, I get a glimpse of the witch she will be. Dark shadows cut in around her beautifully haunted face, and I see the powerlurking beneath. Blood witches are extremely powerful. She wants nothing more than to be accepted into the Halewood Coven, but as a blood witch—she’ll become the Coven Leader or High Priestess. She will rule them all.

“Just how much do you want your magic, my little deathtrap?” I ask, cupping her cheek and rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip.

“It’s not a want, Manon. It’s a need.” Sad green eyes that remind me of the forest floor look up at me. Blood is not only about death; it is a part of life. It is the fertile essence of everything. “Without my powers, I’m useless. Worthless. I'm no one. Just a disappointment to my family. I need my magic.”

Placing a soft kiss on her lips, the tip of one of my fangs catches her bottom lip so that our embrace is laced with that familiar coppery tang.

The reality of the situation hasn’t dawned on her just yet, the dots still unconnected in her mind, but it’s clear as day to me.

I understand blood magic. If she wants her powers, which she does, then blood must be spilled. That is the price.

There is no avoiding the big bold pink writing on the wall and I know she’s going to hate me when she realizes the path she’s on. The path I’m about to drag her down to reclaim her freedom.

Because daddy dearest needs to die.

And then she’ll need to eat his heart.

To Be Continued…

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