Page 10 of The Fated and the Damned
The demon screeched, still writhing from the magnitude of my power. But what could kill a creature not of this earth? I rolled, narrowly missing a swipe of a clawed hand as I sprinted down the tunnel, shoving it against the wall as I passed.
It crashed into the stone, howling once more as it gave chase. I stumbled down the tunnel, my light flickering treacherously as I ran. It was a maze, this underground labyrinth, never-ending, always turning.
My breath came in gasps, panic constricting my chest, my lungs not filling with the air I needed. A sob tore from my throat as I heard the scuttling increase. It was right behind me, one wrong turn, one stumble …
I racked my brain for a solution, a way out of this mess, but I couldn’t go back without facing the demon. I also couldn’t run forever. A flash of red scrawl appeared on the wall beside me—an arrow—and I didn’t hesitate to heed its guidance.
I threw fireballs blindly over my back, hoping to slow the spirit. It hissed and screeched so loudly I felt my ears would bleed, but it never slowed, never stopped.
The dirt floor crunched beneath my boots, my legs screaming as the muscles burned from exertion. I’d never run so fast in my life. When at last it felt like my body would betray me, I crashed into an open chamber.
“Hello, Kitarni,” a low voice said, right before something slammed into my head.
My head barked with pain, a throbbing so violent my skull threatened to crack in two. Something wet and sticky ran down my temple, congealing in clumps over my brow. Groggily, I sat up and tried to blink back the fuzziness to no avail. I jerked, finding myself bound by ropes to a chair, the material chafing against my wrists and around my ankles.
“No.” The word was soft, almost pleading as I writhed, my breaths growing shorter, heavier as panic swelled my chest. The ropes stung as I clenched my fists and pulled, and the scar on my sternum burned as memories flashed through my mind—of a blade sinking into my chest, my blood being drained, cultists chanting and a world full of so much red.
A small whimper escaped my throat and my heart thundered hard enough to tear from my chest as I sucked in small, desperate gasps. At this rate, I was going to black out again. Sweat dripped down my back, beading over my temple as I bent over.
Breathe, Kitarni, just breathe.
I squeezed my eyes shut, taking one deep breath through my nose, expelling the air through my lips. Another, then another, until I could form some rational thoughts ... until the sounds of footsteps shuffled along the damp, cold floor.
I whipped my head around, trying to see past the curtain of hair falling in front of my face. Someone had removed my boots, stealing away the hidden blades stowed in each. I tried to summon my magic, but my power was sluggish. Besides, if I tried to roast Caitlin or use my blood magic, I’d have a demon to answer to.
Shit.
The world was still blurry, but I saw a shadow—no, two shadows—standing over me. And a voice. Grating, pretentious, ugly in every note. One I knew too well.
My vision slowly cleared, and there she was. The High Witch and chief councillor herself. Caitlin. Fucking. Vargo.
Shiiiit.
She sneered down her nose at me, her wrinkled lips pursed in disgust, likeIwas the monstrosity in the room. The demon, however, remained blurred. Most likely hidden by a spell, blocking it from my sight. Or perhaps it had no true face and was just a constant mask of shadows and filtered light.
It seemed calmed by her presence, almost as though tethered to her command by an invisible leash. And I supposed it was. The Guta would not be in the Middle World without a summoning. Only dark magic could beckon demons from the Under World and bend them to one’s will. It was an abomination, brought forth only by the darkest and most forbidden magic.
Its presence loomed over me, ominous in the dim light of flickering candles. My heart galloped in my chest, sweat sliding down my face as I forced myself to breathe. To form a plan and buy myself some time.
A flash of movement drew my eye, and I peered over Caitlin’s shoulder, spotting a glimpse of grey skirts. I followed the fabric higher. A female figure wriggled against iron chains built into a stone wall, her mouth gagged by a rag. Wide, brown eyes stared back at me in terror.
And all around her … blood. Dark brown blotches splashed violently over the walls and the dirt.
The thundering in my chest retreated deep into my stomach as fear, slick and oily, oozed through my veins. My pulse throbbed in my neck, thump, thump, thumping to every shaky breath.
“Caitlin.” I gasped, slowly turning towards my captor. “What have you done?”
I recognised the witch tied up. She looked barely old enough to have had her first bleed—a timid, mousey girl whom I’d never really had the chance to know. In fact, I wondered if anyone had ever really bothered with her at all. The kind of person used to blending into shadows, not immediately missed. I knew the feeling well. I’d learned to embrace the darkness on purpose.
My throat constricted as her muffled protests sounded through the gag.
Summoning a demon and holding a witch prisoner like this was the highest transgression, especially from the High Witch herself. If the coven found out, she would die by fire. I narrowed my eyes.Painfully, and hopefully slowly.
The bound girl sobbed, drawing my attention once more. Tears tracking down her dirty cheeks, she stared at us—at me—imploringly. I swallowed, my heart panging for a sister witch. I knew that look in her eyes too well. A lamb led to slaughter, an innocent who learned from heavy fists and sharp tongues just what the world was capable of.
Caitlin smoothed her skirts, lifting her chin. “I did what I had to. You gave me no choice, Kitarni. Our coven is crumbling. The return of the Dark Queen threatens all we hold dear.”
“Allyouhold dear. Your position teeters on a cliff. All it would take is one small push.” I smirked, cocking my head. “You’re threatened.”
