Page 124 of Haunted Hearts

Viktor obeys beautifully. I wonder if he’ll be this receptive to commands later? The thought gets pushed to the side as Viktor uses his sword to stab into the ground to make it softer. After a moment, he shoves the sapling’s roots into the ground. I pull my attention away from the tree to study the warlock. Before I can say anything, he lunges for me. Jonah’s tail holds him back and the claws on Kwil’s left hand slash across his face. Fulton spits at me.

“You were just a tool to be used. A fucking t—"

Fulton is taken down by Jonah whose tail flings him onto his back. Then the five of them work together to stomp and kick the warlock while he’s down. I watch as I wipe the spit from my face.

“Enough.” I don’t have to raise my voice for all five of them to hear. They back away and let me take a step forward. I peer down at the warlock. He looks utterly pathetic with a bloody face and broken nose. “Look at you. Did you know, spirits take the form that they were most proud of when they were alive? You… You’re an old man without anything special about yourself.” I wave my hand down his body. “You were proud of something that wasn’t even a part of you. You stole magic from the Third Realm, this realm… You probably weren’t even a great mage with just the magic you had before you turned to a life of… Well, whatever it was. But you know, I want you to be special. So, I’m going to memorialize you. You’ll be a piece of the Realm of the Dead forever, for others to view and learn from. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done.”

My mouth stretches into a smile that carries no emotion behind it whatsoever.

He tries to wheeze out something, but I don’t bother to entertain the warlock any further. I indicate for the others to step back. Jonah gives Fulton a last kick before he and the others give me, and the warlock, space.

My power… it crackles around my fingertips.

I’m the daughter of Death. Giving life to something isn’t something I can do. But if the life is already here…

I kneel in front of Fulton as he tries to sit up. Our eyes meet. His are so full of hatred that a weaker person may have wilted under the look. But it’s Fulton that cringes from me. I smile. Fear soon replaces the anger the longer we look at one another.

With his attention focused on my face, he seems to be unaware of how my power drips from my fingertips and soaks the ground around him. He doesn’t notice the way the sapling trembles or begins to grow larger. I hold Fulton’s stare as the little tree’s roots sink into the red clay and very loosely wrap around his wrist, arms, and legs.

It’s not until they tighten that the warlock finally realizes that now he has a real reason to hate me. I pour more magic into the little tree and ground, speeding up the process as the warlock tries to fight his inevitable demise. The ground shakes. Branches from the sapling reach forward and wind around the warlock’s body.

“No!”

His scream of denial is met with soft laughter as Theo and Kwil find amusement in his suffering.

The branches of the sapling, holding him in place, begin to burrow into his spirit. His ear-splitting screams are carried upwards as the tree grows through and around him. Just as it had done with me.

“Won’t he die?” Jonah asks, stepping up next to me.

“Nope, his soul will feed the tree,” Brock replies from behind us. “It was created with Death Magic. It’s not a real tree. It’s not feeding off the earth. It’s feeding from a soul, and in turn, it will feed life into Fulton. He’ll suffer.”

Jonah hums thoughtfully. “It’s a beautiful revenge, Willow.”

His tail wraps around my waist in a warm embrace while he takes my hand. We stand there together, with the others close behind, and watch as the man who’s been haunting my nightmares meets his fate.

The tree sprouts up in front of Theo’s family home, appearing as if it’s been there all along. Fulton’s so wrapped up in branches that he can hardly budge. One has wrapped around the top of his head, holding it still. His body twitches as the tree sinks deep into his soul. The way his skin protrudes as the tree feasts from his spiritual energy both sickens and excites me.

“How does it feel, Fulton?” I ask, loud enough that he could probably hear me if he’d stop his screaming. “Pleasant? Satisfying? I hope so. You now have a purpose. Your suffering will serve as an eternal warning to never mess with the Realm of the Dead.”

His screams become garbled as the tree works its way into the veins in his throat.

A hand lands on my shoulder. When I look at who it belongs to, I find Theo staring down at me.

“Feel better?”

Do I? Maybe a little.

My eyes land on the reapers all around us, fighting back the creatures that so desperately want to devour me and the power I that carry. They fought for this moment, just as badly I did. My attention falls on my men. Viktor is watching Fulton as if he half-expects the powerless warlock to break free. The others watch me, waiting for my response. I know that if I wanted to, I could stand here for hours listening to Fulton’s strangled sounds. The reapers would stay and fight to protect me. My men would stand here with me without a single complaint.

But it’s over. Fulton’s reign of terror has come to an end and I’m free from his harassment. The Realm of the Living has been exorcized of this filth and the Realm of the Dead has received its missing piece.

My job here is done.

“I’m done here,” I tell them all. “Let’s get the others and go home.”

Chapter40

WILLOW

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