Page 11 of To Hunt a Demon King

“One thing at a time,” I said to myself, taking some deep, steadying breaths to calm my pounding heart. I finished my search through the basket and chose to ignore the demon magic I had inadvertently used for now. Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge it, it would go away.

Mama had packed more than she could ever need for a birth, and I had a sinking feeling she had known I might need this basket. After all, a good witch is always prepared, and Mama was one of the best.

She had packed a chunk of quartz, so I would be able to cast a simple mending spell to fix the basket handle. There was no good place to draw a pentagram, so I gathered some sticks and twigs to form the rough shape of one on the ground, placing the basket in the center and invoking the magic. The handle snapped back together.

“The spell is cast,” I murmured, picking up the basket and standing to take in my surroundings.

It was a little lighter now, and everything still glowed reddish in the woods as the sun rose slowly. The trees grew thickly together, but without leaves in the way, I was able to make out the direction of the rising sun.

Mama wanted me to go east. I could turn and go west instead, but she had been insistent I be far away from my grandmother. Mama must have a good reason beyond escaping Coven law for sending me out here, but maybe not. Would they kill me for having demon magic? Clearly Mama believed so. My mind went to the thunk of the witch’s body hitting the floor at the Coven meeting. East it was then.

I sighed, sinking back to the ground and putting my head in my hands. I would give myself two minutes to think, and then I would move. I ran through Mama’s instructions in my mind.

First was to head east on foot. Simple enough. Then find the Demon King. That seemed like a terrible idea, but if I had demon magic, maybe that was why. Was I a demon? The thought made me panic for a moment, but no. Mama was definitely a witch. And demons couldn’t cross the Bloodwood. At least, I didn’t think they could. Was I cursed then? Mama had called it a blessing and a curse. That theory would have to do for now.

What was her next instruction? Invoke the protection of the Horned God. My mind reeled at this command. I had never heard of the Horned God before the Coven meeting last night—was that the same thing as the Horned One the dead witch had mentioned? I didn’t think there were any gods aside from the Triple Goddess. But if that witch had invoked him, and then my mother, maybe I was wrong.

Follow the stone. That was the last thing she had said. That the stone would guide me. I felt for the necklace and ran a finger over the black stone Mama always wore. It was slightly warm to the touch, and it seemed to buzz a little, making me withdraw my hand with a start. I didn’t feel it pulling me anywhere. I sighed, then stood and brushed off my skirt, looking east.

I began my arduous trek through the thick woods, thankful for my sturdy boots. There was no discernible path, so I walked over fallen logs and around tree stumps for several hours, stumbling over myself and scratching my arms and hands. Every so often, I felt the demon magic heal my wounds, and I flinched, trying to ignore it. I finally stopped for a break when the sun was high enough overhead that I was fearful of getting turned around.

I sat, my back against the trunk of a wide, gnarled tree, and took an apple from my little pack and studied it thoughtfully. Mama had said I was blessed and cursed with the magic of life and death, whatever that meant. I wondered if it meant I could do more than just heal and give life. Narrowing my eyes, I imagined pulling the life from the apple, like a golden thread being drawn from a tapestry. A dark, shadowy thing in me seemed to raise its head, and I nearly threw the apple from me when the skin withered and blackened, horrified by what I had done.

Would it work in reverse?

Again, I tried to concentrate, pouring the magic back into the apple. I felt that light thing in me sputter and die, drained of power. Nothing happened.

I cursed and threw the ruined apple from me. Clearly my magic would take some practice. I wasn’t even sure it was something Ishouldpractice. If this was a curse, maybe it would be temporary. Maybe the Demon King could break it.

“Happy birthday to me,” I sighed, leaning my head back against the tree and closing my eyes.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep, and when I awoke to late afternoon light, I was startled to find I was no longer alone.

A wolf, huge and brown, with yellow eyes, stared unblinkingly at me from several paces away. It looked exactly like the wolf from the other day, although I supposed I couldn’t really be sure.

“Hello,” I said cautiously, trying to stay perfectly still.

The wolf sniffed the withered apple I had discarded, then perked its head up to look at me. The black stone warmed against my chest, and I felt somehow sure that the wolf wouldn’t harm me. If it had wanted to eat me, it would have done so yesterday. Maybe this wolf truly was some sort of guide or guardian. A hoot drew my attention upward as a large bird swooped down, landing neatly next to the wolf.

“Hoot,” said the bird, tilting its head in the same direction as the wolf. It was large, about the size of a small child. Its eyes were huge and pale like the full moon, and it ruffled its huge, feathery body, revealing wings that looked more like a bat’s than a bird’s. Not an owl, then.

“What in the name of the Goddess are you?” I murmured, sitting as still as possible so as not to startle it. While I didn’t think an owl-creature-thing would eat me, its beak was sharp enough to do some damage, and the wolf was still studying me thoughtfully. Was there going to be a whole menagerie of creatures coming to find me here?

“Hoot,” said the owl-creature again. The wolf, taking some command from the bird, padded toward me and sniffed my hand, pressing its wet nose insistently until I reached up and scratched its head.

“Well hello again, wolf,” I said, smiling at the creature. “I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t eat me.” The wolf huffed in what I hoped was agreement, and the bird gave another hoot, hopping over to inspect the rotten apple. It poked at it with its beak, then looked up at me with pale eyes again, somehow open wider than before. The wolf had done the exact same thing, but this poor creature’s expression was almost comical. I would have laughed if at that moment it hadn’t scooped up my basket in its talons and taken to the air.

“Hey!” I cried, jumping up and chasing after the bird. The wolf whined and ran behind me, its tongue lolling out happily as if it thought we were playing a game. “Bring that back!”

The owl-creature hooted again, somewhat more distantly as it flapped ahead, its great bat-like wings stretched wide as it soared through the blood red sky. For what must have been a full hour, I chased after it, pausing to catch my breath every so often against the trunk of a tree. The wolf stayed with me, pausing when I paused and whining if I took too long to move again. Several times I gave the basket up for lost when I looked up to see the owl-creature watching me, the basket still clutched tightly in its talons, as if goading me forward and daring me to take it back.

As evening fell, the owl-creature seemed to give up, dropping my basket unceremoniously and spilling its contents across the forest floor. With a docile “hoot,” it landed on a branch above the spilled food.

“Demon owl,” I grumbled, picking up and brushing the dirt off the bread, cheese, and fruit as the bird blinked its round, pale eyes innocently.

“She’s a strix, actually.”

I turned with a start to see a man leaning against a blackened tree, looking appraisingly at me as I chastised the bird.

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