Page 9 of The Fated and the Damned
“What … for,” he panted, shifting under my weight.
I grinned as I stepped onto his head and was answered with a string of colourful curses. Much better. Now I could get a solid grip on the ledge without flapping my arms and legs about.
If anyone looked, we were done for, but as I heard Eszter’s lilting laugh float across the gardens, I relaxed. She had them wrapped around her finger.
“See you on the other side,” I said to András, and slipped inside the witch’s lair.
FOUR
Kitarni
Ivaultedthroughthewindow, landing lightly on my feet in the temple’s rear chamber. The room was dark and silent, which meant Caitlin had likely retired home for the night. I breathed a sigh of relief. Lady Luck had finally graced me with her presence.
Just in case, I strained my ears, narrowing my eyes for a hint of any candlelight. Only dust stirred as I made my way through the room, careful to avoid bumping into any furniture. There was little light to see by, so I risked conjuring a small flame into my palm.
The room was threadbare, littered with a few books and scrolls, but otherwise occupied only by an alter at the far end of the room. I studied a small statue of Istenanya upon the stone slab, surrounded by unlit candles and paraphernalia.
The mother goddess.The blessed one.It was she we prayed to most to nurture and keep us safe, though I had a feeling Hadúr, the god of war, would be worshipped in bountiful tides soon. Witches needed protection from the cultists, but we needed our blades to be sharp and our minds even sharper.
I looked around the room, casting an eye over the few books present. Titles on simple spells and potions, herbal uses, and earth magic castings. Nothing out of the ordinary or worth locking up. No, those books would be somewhere secure.
After hunting through the entire temple, my findings had come up short. I raked a hand through my hair in frustration. András would be growing impatient, and Eszter would be long gone by now.
Where could they be? Surely Caitlin wouldn’t hide such valuable items in her home? The books I sought contained our history, dating back to the first witches of our coven. Such things were timeless treasures, and given the increased guard presence around the temple, I was inclined to follow my initial instincts.
I returned to the rear chamber, glancing at the statue of Istenanya. The firelight almost made it seem like she was watching me, scrutinising my every movement.
Please, blessed mother, I prayed.Show me the way. Give me a sign.
She merely stared at me with outstretched arms, a look of love and affection adorning her beautiful face. I followed the angle of her palms, my eyes dropping to the ground. A rug lay settled over the stone. The corner of it was flipped, as if someone had scuffed it in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to right it.
Dust plumed as I pulled the rug back, stifling a cough as the cloud climbed my nostrils. “Hello,” I said quietly, grinning to myself. “What do we have here?”
A trapdoor leading underground. To a cellar? Or something else? My skin prickled with awareness, the beast within stirring as if sensing danger. I glanced at the window, pursing my lips. András would be pissed at me for not bringing him, but we needed the spells in those books. Something—anything—to overthrow the High Witch without inciting a coup. If the coven stood any chance against Sylvie, strength in numbers—in unity—was our best bet.
Fuck it. I hefted the trapdoor open and stared into the pitch black below, climbing onto a ladder that had seen better days. Honestly, I was surprised Caitlin even had the strength to get down there.
The ladder groaned as I descended, the wood creaking with each boot I placed on the rail. Without a free hand, I’d been forced to snuff out my fire, which left me in total darkness in the tight space. My chest constricted, breaths coming shorter as the ladder seemed to go down, down, down into the gods only knew where.
Coldness greeted me the further down I went, the air musty and stale and … metallic? A dampness settled in my bones, my instincts warning me to turn back, to find light again. I’d never been one to back down from a challenge, and I wasn’t about to now. My gut was always right.
Unfortunately, my gut could be a real bitch sometimes.
A scuttling sounded in the dark and I stiffened, holding my breath, hoping against hell it was just a rat. The hairs on the nape of my neck raised, and I shivered once more. Not from the cold this time, but from something that didn’t belong here.
There it was again. A skittering—the steps too uneven to be a witch. The sound grew louder as it approached. My heart thudded beneath my ribcage, threatening to give me away. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my palms clammy with fear. What the fuck was down here?
With shaking fingers, I raised a hand near my face, conjuring a small flame to life.
And screamed.
A twisted face appeared before me, so distorted by shadow and smoke it was impossible to make out what was what. Fear rooted me to the spot as this being hurtled towards me with a horrifying gait. Paralysis crawled through my veins, pinpricking over my skin as I could do nothing but stand there and wait for the blow to fall.
Move, Kitarni.Fucking move!The beast inside me roared in defiance, writhing and raging deep down in my stomach, and somehow, my limbs jerked back in response.
I sucked in a breath and exploded. Red surged from my body, crashing upon the beast with a thunderous clap. It yowled, the sound so unearthly that my bones trembled, threatening to buckle beneath me.
I’d left my sword at home, and my throwing knives and the tiny daggers in my boots wouldn’t be much use against the creature before me. A nightmare, a parasite which had no place in the Middle World. I knew what it was the moment I saw it:Guta. A spirit from the Under World known for inflicting paralysis, then violently thrashing its victims, leaving bloodied, broken corpses in its wake.
