Page 5 of Bad Demon

Agatheena walked out of the shed, and I stared, stunned, as the demon went limp.

When demons died, we turned to ash; nothing left. Agatheena had the ability to prevent that from happening though. Our organs held power, but due to the whole disintegrating-into-nothing thing, they were rare and highly sought after. Not just anyone could harvest them.

This had to be seriously lucrative for the old witch.

“Are you coming?” Agatheena said as she walked away.

I jolted out of my stupor and rushed after her as she rounded the cottage and followed her up the stairs. When she opened the door, the scent that flowed out was like nothing I’d ever smelled in my life. It wasn’t bad, but it was intense.

“Don’t touch anything,” she said and waved toward the kitchen. “Sit over there.”

I did as she’d said—I didn’t dare do anything else—and tried not to stare at all the weird shit she had hanging from the rafters and sitting on shelves. There was what you’d expect in a witch’s cottage—herbs, books, bottles of potions, and elixirs—but there were also shriveled limbs, dried entrails, skulls and other bones, and more organs floating around in jars.

Agatheena was preparing us tea by the looks of it, and her raven turned on her shoulder, facing me, his beady black eyes staring a hole through my head.

I avoided making eye contact. “What’s your raven’s name?”

“Dolores, and she’s an excellent judge of character.” Agatheena set a delicate floral teacup in front of me. “She likes you.”

“How can you tell?” I subtly sniffed the vapor drifting up from my cup. I knew herbs better than most. If she was attempting to sedate or poison me, I’d know.

“It’s safe.” She sat, studying me, and I could be wrong, but I thought there might be a look of approval in her eyes. “And if Dolores didn’t trust you, your eyeballs would already be in that jar over there.”

Yep, there was indeed a jar full of bloody eyeballs. “Well, I’m glad she likes me then.”

Agatheena chuckled. “You know herbs,” she said, not a question, and motioned to my tea.

Nope. She hadn’t missed the way I’d been scenting it.

“I do. I have my own store in Seventh Circle.”

Her gaze sharpened. “The need to be among herbs, to learn about them—that’s the witch in you, girl.”

A stab of hurt sliced through me. “The witch gene bypassed me almost entirely. I don’t have a familiar or any magical ability. That’s why I’m here actually. I was hoping you could help me.”

She noticed my fingers tapping against the table. “What kind of help?”

I quickly dropped my hand, but finished counting in my head.One, two, three, four. Four, three, two, one.“I’m being watched. Breeder scouts.” I’d been free from the hell my grandfather had dumped me in for five years, and I would turn myself to ash before I ended up at the mercy of another fucked-up monster.

“What about your family?” Her stare didn’t falter, but her eyes flashed red momentarily.

“My mother was murdered when I was very young, and then my father had me taken away. Apart from you, I have no family. I’m the perfect target. A lone female with no ties.”

Her fingers curled, tightening into a trembling fist. “I sensed Eleanor’s soul in the afterlife, but I could never reach her.” Her eyes flashed red again, but this time, they stayed that way. “It was as if someone was keeping her from me. Just like my Hazel. The coven—has to be—they bound their souls so I couldn’t reach them, even in death.”

Hazel was my grandmother and Agatheena’s daughter.

“Why? Why would they do that to you?”

Agatheena sipped her tea, and I could see her mind ticking over, as if she was deciding what she should tell me.

“Please.”

She blew out a breath and sat forward. “Because my mother dared to fall in love with the wrong male. As you know, her mate was a demon, but when her parents found out, they had him killed, then forced her to marry a widower—a coven elder who had too much money and no heirs. I’d been conceived before the marriage though, and when the coven realized what I was—that I was half demon—they told everyone my father had forced himself on my mother. They lied, and then they cast me out. It didn’t help that I was far stronger than them.” She took my hand and turned it over, searching the lines on my palm. “But you know exactly what that’s like, don’t you, Fern? Our stories are almost identical.”

Yes, eerily so. It was almost like history had repeated itself.

“Except for the bit about my father. Mine was a witch, and I can only guess that it was the demon DNA—passed down from you—that terrified him, which is why he got rid of me.”

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