Page 27 of Court of Heathens

No, they can’t. She’s growing stronger, but she’s contained. I made sure of it. So why now? The only thing that has changed is that fucking god. The sooner we get rid of him, the better. He brings nothing but bad omens, and he’s annoying. He also keeps winning in my games and beating my scores.

I hate the way he looks at my little witch as well. It’s the same way I look at her. He’s supposed to be above all that, be all godly and shit, but I can see through him. He craves the magic inside her, wants to taste it and control it. All gods are the same. They crave power, and nothing is more powerful than my little witch—even if she doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why he’s sticking around. Regardless, once this hunt is through, I need to find a way to get rid of him for good—oh look, shiny rock.

I pocket the glowing stone to give to my witch. I know she likes things like this. I pluck a few herbs and wildflowers as well that she’s running low on. Usually, she goes and gets them, but I know it drains her, so this way she can spend more time focusing on her spells and playing with me. That’s the only reason why. No other reason.

“Seriously, I’m tired of hunting now. Those detective shows make it look way more fun!” I yell to no one. “I could be balls deep in my witch right now. Okay, probably not, since she’d kill me first, but I could be making my moves or taking a nap, but no.” Using magic, I make my pitch higher. “Track down the mask, demon. Do this, demon. I’m so pretty that it’s distracting, demon, so I make you agree to everything.” Snorting, I sigh as I stomp through the hillside.

“We get it, with your ominous death magic and stealing a verynaughty mask while probably harbouring malevolent plans to end the world, but could you make this easier? Like, come out and monologue me to death. I’ve been practising my, ‘You won’t get away with this.’ Honestly, my witch would find it super impressive. She’d finally realise she loves me, and we’d spend the next ten years in bed, or on the floor . . . or against the wall.”

There’s no reply, so I stomp harder, following the never-ending trail like I’m a fucked-up version of Hansel and Gretel. At least those fuckers got sweets and almost got an epic nap in a fire. I’d kill to be shoved in an oven right now and let a witch eat me—specifically one witch.

Oh well, hopefully if I bring her the evildoer or some information, she might eat me either way. I could cover myself in sweets. Humming happily, I speed up my steps. The trail seems to get stronger the closer I get to the city. The flow of the death magic increases, and I run now, knowing I’m close.

The rolling hills give way to ancient trees, and once through their midst, I find myself in an overgrown, long since abandoned graveyard.

“Creepy, I love it.” I nod, looking around. “Love what you did with the place. It’s giving hobo chic vibes. Very in.”

The church leans to the side, the windows broken and the doors smashed open with what looks like dried blood creating a trail inside. There are at least five overturned graves, with soil and bits of casket scattered around as if something inside wanted out.

“You know, if I wasn’t a demon, I might be scared right now,” I mutter as I follow the trail through the graves, avoiding the open holes as I head towards the church.

At the doorway, I glance in. “If anyone is in there hiding, come out now. I hate surprises,” I call, but nothing moves, and I grumble as I glance at the sky. “If one of you fuckers sets me on fire for stepping in here, I’m going to be really mad. My girl doesn’t like BBQ that much.”

Placing a hesitant foot on the first step, I wait, and when I don’t burst into flames, I skip inside, following the blood trail. I guess the holy ground isn’t so holy anymore, or the gods simply don’t care that ademon is desecrating it. That thought comes to a screeching halt, though, because I suddenly realise it’s already been desecrated.

“I’m all for a bit of grave robbing, since the dead fuckers don’t need it, and I get fucking with the church because fuck gods, but damn, you really brought down the property value,” I remark. There is blood splashed on every wall, like someone took a bucket of paint and just went to town.

“It’s very evil Bob Ross,” I mutter as I head past overturned wooden pews, spying crosses flipped upside down nearly everywhere. When I reach the pulpit, I frown.

The trail ends here, and when I glance around, I almost groan.

I was right, and that doesn’t bode well for this world or my little witch.

There is a pentagram made of blood and bowls of something I don’t want to look too closely at spread around its edges, which still glows with death magic—strong death magic. In the middle of it all is a rotting hand, the skin falling off and decaying. It’s a strange yellow colour, the fingers curled as if grabbing something. It’s just sitting there, like a fucked-up arm-wrestling machine.

“Do not move. Do not fucking move. Do not move,” I mutter as I carefully step over the blood just in case it’s a reaping circle. Picking up a broken chair leg, I prod the hand. I’m not proud of the scream that rips from my body when it jerks, clenching the wood and stealing it.

“I told you not to fucking move!” I yell at it, shuddering like spiders are running all over me. “That’s just creepy and rude. Who the fuck leaves a still moving and very dead arm in a church? Is it a warning or an interior design choice?” I wait, but there’s no answer. “You can’t speak, you’re an arm. Some good you are!” I huff before an idea hits me, and I perk up. “But we might be able to use you to track whoever did this. My witch will be so happy. Okay, nice arm, come with me.” I magic a bag because there is no way I am carrying that thing. It seems angry.

“Nice arm, that’s it, come with Uncle Demon. You’ll like where we’re going. It’s less satanic murder house, more cosy witch core.That’s it . . .” I grab the wood and jerk, plopping the moving hand into the bag and quickly shutting it. “Nice undead arm.”

As I leave the church, the hand claws at the bag, hitting my side and ass in its attempt to get free.

“Hey.” I smack the bag at my side. “No grabbing the goods. Only my witch can do that.”

If my day wasn’t bad enough, I’m now being felt up by a rotting hand. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.

CHAPTER 16

Ialmost forgot it is the full moon tonight. The spell is done, so I can free Phrixius from my binding spell. Why am I sad? We were bonding and getting along, but he’s a god, not a pet. My demon is still out hunting, and I hope he’s okay. The silence is way too loud without him, but I don’t focus too much on that.

Instead, I hoist my bag with everything I need higher and smile at Phrixius. “I’ll be back.” I don’t tell him where I’m going in case it doesn’t work and he’s still trapped. I don’t want to get his hopes up. I don’t think I could handle him being disappointed in me.

He nods with a soft smile and returns to lounging and reading his book. I take one last look at the beautiful god before leaving my cave. I remind myself he’s not mine. I’m not collecting supernatural beings. Phrixius is an immortal being more powerful than nearly every other creature in this world. He cannot stay with a lowly witch just because I like him.

He’s funny, cute, smart, and a good listener. Did I mention he’s cute?

Oh well, at least I still have my demon, wherever he is.

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