Page 59 of Court of Heathens

Do you have the means, witch?comes his taunting voice.I don’t think you do, and when you’re out, I will take all of their souls and make them mine. I will use their bodies to haunt you and remind you of your loss every time?—

“No!” With a scream, I thrust my hands forward, shoving everything I have into that one last move.

The remaining zombies explode, torn apart by a tidal wave of thorns that physically raises the earth, tearing into the dirt as they go. It’s so strong, and there are so many, it blackens the moon before they slam into me. I stagger into the men behind me, and they catch me as I gasp, unable to scream as the thorns once again fill my body. They hold too much power, and I feel like I will implode.

“We’ve got you. Give it to us,” Phrixius demands. “Now, witch!”

My head is turned and lips meet mine. I pour the darkness into those lips until they rip away and another set replace them. I do thesame, each moment that passes letting me breathe easier as they take the darkness and make it their own. When my head is turned again, my shoulders slump in relief as more power passes from me to them until I can see, hear, and breathe without feeling like I’m dying.

The thorns settle back inside me, satisfied and happy, leaving me cold and shaken.

What I was capable of terrifies me as I look around at the hundreds of scattered heads and limbs leading to me like a trail. All the zombies are torn apart, their sparks of reanimation stolen by me.

The necromancer chuckles in my head, making me whimper in pain.Hmm, you are strong. Fine, I will leave for now. Consider this a victory, but I’ll be seeing you again soon. You cannot fight the darkness that lives in us forever. Look at you. You’re magnificent.

I freeze, my eyes wide. This was what he wanted all along—for me to use my magic against him. He didn’t want to kill my coven, though he would have if it got him what he needed. No, he simply wanted to rip open my magic and pour it into the world.

He wanted to make me like him.

“I will never be like you!” I scream, even as the bodies around me groan with life, reacting to my anger and horror.

We will see about that.

Suddenly, his power is gone, and I slump even more.

When I turn back to my coven with the help of my men, all I see are horrified eyes, and I know he took something precious from me tonight. I sway with exhaustion, and when I fall, something—no, somebody catches me.

“I’ve got you, little witch. I’ve got you.”

I pass out right there in his arms.

The necromancer is gone, but I still remain, and I know nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

CHAPTER 31

The demon stands with Freya in his arms, and the moment her eyes shut, there are screams. The witches stumble back when they see Phrixius and me at the demon’s side. Her spell is wearing off.

Moving closer, I lean down to check she is okay. She’s exhausted. I don’t know how it’s possible for so much magic to be in a tiny body, but she was incredible. Watching her destroy a whole army just confirms that I was born to be hers and bear this burden with her.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Phrixius murmurs to us.

Nodding, we move towards the witches as a unit. They stumble back, bar the one my woman was talking to, who watches us sadly. When we breach their midst, they quickly part, creating a pathway between them. We walk silently, every eye on us.

I warn them with my glare. If anyone so much as dares to touch or attack her, then I will end them. I do not like the energy surrounding them nor the way they are looking at her as if she is their enemy, especially after she almost just died to protect them. Without her, those zombies would have ripped them to pieces, I would not have helped. I only listen to her, I only care for her, but she clearly caresfor them.

I felt it in the magic she used to protect them, yet here they stand, as if she is worse than nothing to them.

Phrixius and the demon feel it as well. Both are tense, their eyes scanning the crowd, but they do not seem shocked.

“She’s a necromancer,” someone whispers. “We have to kill her?—”

Magic lashes towards us. I step before Freya, and it absorbs into me, feeding the beast inside. I tilt my head as the change comes over me.

Gone is the humanoid form I took so as not to frighten my woman, my creator, and now I stand before them as the monster.

There are screams, and I lift one of my long arms to point a black-clawed nail at the pale female who flung the magic. “You attacked.” My words are more of a growl, but she understands, scrambling to turn and flee, but the crowd is too thick. In two steps, I am before her, and the other witches scramble away as I lift her into the air with a hand on her tiny throat.

She’s so weak and puny.

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