Page 32 of The Witch and His Crow

My limbs shook as I jumped, propelling my body into the shadowy rafters of the ceiling. I slunk into the shadows, longing for Caym to be here and take me away in his. But as I expected Jaz to round the corner, it was another witch who entered.

Salem, dishevelled but alive.

Salem’s single eye scanned the room. The side of his face was imprinted with his scar, which from this angle looked terrifying. I was almost relieved to see him, instead of any of the other witches I could have run into. But something stopped me from revealing myself. It was the determination in his gaze, the grimace his handsome face was set into as he looked in every corner for something.

Or someone.

Satisfied the room was empty of living witches, Salem moved on. He walked past the same witch who had pleaded for me to kill them. Unlike me though, when the same request reached Salem’s ears, he didn’t waste time to do it. I clapped hand over my mouth, stifling my gag. Maybe I should’ve closed my eyes, but doing so would’ve only proved I was a coward. If I couldn’t face the brutality now, I’d never survive the night.

Salem knelt down, his low whisper inaudible. Whatever he said frightened the dying witch. It must’ve been bad to cause a reaction in someone already facing the worst possible terror. Then he levelled his hand towards the witch, fingers splayed for a second before he fisted them. The air popped with static. Snakes of blue light danced around his slender fingers.

Even from my vantage point, I watched the wide-eyed witch reflect the light of their end as Salem lowered his hand. Upon impact, the witch… sizzled. Like meat on a barbecue. Smoke danced from their eyes, nose, and opened mouth. Even their ears steamed with it as Salem used his power to fry them from the inside out.

Salem didn’t stop until the room was choked with the smell of cooked flesh, long after the witch was dead. He straightened and placed his murderous hands into his pockets. Watching him, his brutality, took me back to when I was six years old and the violence of this nasty little prick who’d made my life hell.

This was what became of someone left to fester. Then again, how different was he from me?

I waited until I was confident Salem had moved on. It could have been minutes since he left the room, or hours. There was no way to know. Time moved strangely here, the view beyond the stained-glass windows still painted black with night.

By the time I landed back on the ground, in a pose that would make any superhero comic-book fan proud, I was running again. I had to find Romy. Either to protect her, or be protected by her presence.

There was only one other place I could imagine Romy would go. To our room. If she could’ve made it there, perhaps she’d barricaded herself in. She had the key—that thought alone gave me comfort. Maybe that was where she thought I had returned to once she’d realised I’d left the Great Hall.

I only hoped my suspicions were right, and I didn’t find her amongst the dead on my route back through the castle.

My focus was razor sharp. Pushing Salem’s brutality to the back of my mind, I left that worry to dwell on later. No point worrying about tomorrow if I didn’t make it there.

Years of survival made my ability to map an area a near military-level skill. I relied on my instinct to draw me back through the unfamiliar castle. I passed more dead. More suffering. Behind doors I heard struggling and pleading. Worst of all, I heard laughter. I forget it all, or at least I tried too. My legs burned the more stairs I raced up, my chest aching. Sweat rolled down my spine, dampening my hair line, and all the while I didn’t stop. Not until I reached the attic level.

But before I took those final steps, the door to our room almost in view, another shout rung out. The pain was so great it broke the person’s voice. I whipped up the final step, just in time to see five witches, four of whom are clearly in a coven as they face down the other.

All I could think was that witches had already reached Romy. But she was not the one facing the coven down.

It was Arwyn. My shadow. Fire dripped from his hands, its light unnaturally blue, just like his eyes. The light illuminated the underside of his face, illuminating his swollen left eye and blood-crusted nose. He was limping, being forced towards the banister at his back. And yet still he faced down the coven before him, holding those flaming hands ready as though he could take them all out.

Why was he here? Had he come to finish me off, just as I thought? Whatever his reasons had been, he’d clearly failed.

For the first time, I couldn’t turn away. My room was so close, yet with Arwyn’s growls emanating from before me, I could’ve been caught in an entirely different world.

Everything unfolded slowly.

Arwyn stepped too close to the banister at his back. The wood cracked. The coven forced him towards the edge. He was so focused on those before him that he didn’t notice when the banister disappeared.Poof, it was gone, just like magic. Literally.

ButInoticed.

As his foot continued over the edge, his body tipping to a fall, his flames left an arc of sapphire light. Arwyn turned his head, his white-glowing eyes met mine.

Then he fell.

CHAPTER NINE

My waist slammed into the banister, just as the witch re-materialised it. I could hear their disgruntled noises at my sudden appearance, but I didn’t care. Reaching over the banister, I flung every ounce of my attention down to Arwyn. He plummeted down three flights, four, five, six—the ground floor raced up to greet him. In a beat, I cocooned him in my power, anchoring my energy around his body. I continued weaving my gift around him, until he was left suspended in mid-air.

Our eyes locked. Arwyn looked so unbelievably calm and he was…

‘Are you fucking smiling?’ I growled against the strain of power.

I didn’t get to hear his response as a rough hand grasped my shoulder. Nails dug through my shirt, pinching skin. Still holding Arwyn afloat with my Gift, I turned to face the witch who was brave enough to step up to me. My lip curled over my top teeth. My patience had not only worn thin but was totally frayed, barely holding together.

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