Page 5 of To Hunt a Demon King

“Even if you want to keep your distance,” Mama said, turning back to the stew she had been cooking, “your grandmother will not.”

I knew she was right. Several times as a child, my grandmother had attempted to lure me from Mama with dolls or clothes or new books of magic, as long as I agreed to go and live with her. Eventually, Mama had forbidden her from coming to see us at all, threatening to take me to the Bloodwood to hide me from her.

“I don’t want her poisoning you with her beliefs,” Mama added, waving the stew spoon in emphasis. I grimaced.

When I was about four, Mama had finally agreed to let my grandmother visit me for the first time. She had looked at our little cottage with disgust and criticized Mama at great length, trying to get her to confess who my father was. Eventually, she had moved on to disparaging our closeness to a mortal village.

“Mortals were placed here by the Mother to serve witches,” Grandmother had declared, looking in horror at Mama’s collection of remedies she was making for the townsfolk. “Why in the name of the Goddess would you bless them with the craft?”

“Mortals were placed on this earth by the Goddess, just as the witches were,” Mama argued. “All creatures should be treated with respect, not just witches.” The argument escalated, and Mama finally sent my grandmother away.

“Why do witches not live with the mortals?” I asked later, my innocent brain unable to comprehend the truth of our world. Mama had sighed, putting down the brush she was using to try to tame my mass of coppery hair, and turned me to face her.

“Not everything in this world is fair, my heart,” she said. “Sometimes, we have to fight for what is right when we see that something is wrong. Your grandmother doesn’t see that yet.”

Now that I was older, I knew that my grandmother would never see it. It was one of the reasons Mama refused a position in the Coven and moved us so far away, and I agreed with Mama. I had no interest in forging a relationship with the woman who had terrified me so much as a child. Still, I didn’t think that was enough of a reason to stop me from attending the Coven meeting tomorrow.

“Why else?” I pushed, taking the bowl of stew Mama handed me. I didn’t really feel like eating anything, but I poked the lumps of meat with my spoon and made a show of trying. “There must be a better reason.”

Mama sighed, and I truly expected her to change the subject.

“There is, my heart,” she said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

“What is it?” I asked, looking up eagerly, my heart beating a little faster.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” Mama said. “On your birthday.” I felt the excitement and hope that had buoyed in my chest deflate like an old rubber ball. “Now eat your stew.”

???

I tried to keep myself busy the next day to stop from thinking about the meeting and Vera’s initiation and the fact that Mama was keeping something from me. I spent the morning helping Mama with her potions and tinctures for the local village: setting up the casting elements, finding the correct colors of crystal, and drawing and redrawing pentagrams until she declared that there was nothing else for me to help with.

Vera said she was too busy getting ready for the meeting to go out with me, giving me an apologetic look when I knocked on her door. Her hair was mussed and her clothing askew, and I had a strong suspicion it was not because she had simply slept in. I bit my tongue, deciding not to comment on the fact that I had seen Sebastian riding past me back to the village on my way over.

I was admittedly annoyed with Vera, not because she had spent time with Sebastian instead of me, but that she had clearly been hiding it. I wandered rather aimlessly toward the Bloodwood, kicking the rocks beneath my boots and stewing in my frustration.

A growl startled me out of my gloom. I looked up to see that I had wandered near the border of the Bloodwood. The trees were gnarled and black here, and the sky took on a reddish tint the deeper one traveled, or so I had heard. I looked around for the source of the sound and froze as I caught sight of a gigantic wolf.

It stood on the edge of the Bloodwood, head tilted to the side as if it was studying me. It was brown and shaggy, and it looked like its head would reach my chest. Yellow eyes gleamed from the darkness, and it bared a set of very sharp teeth, as if preparing to attack.

My eyes widened in panic as I tried to remember if I knew anything about scaring off wolves. No, I did not. I lowered myself to the ground, hoping that if I seemed smaller and unthreatening, it would walk away. I said a little prayer of protection, since I didn’t have any dill or lavender on hand to cast a proper protection spell, hoping the wolf would heed it. Half of magic was willpower and hope, after all.

The wolf prowled closer, yellow eyes trained on me, until it stood only a few feet away from me. It stared, making me feel a little disconcerted, as if I were the wild specimen, and it was studying me.

“Hello,” I said tentatively, looking at the wolf. It didn’t move, still staring at me and twitching an ear as if deciding what to do next. It didn’t seem hungry, at least.

“Please don’t eat me,” I added in a whisper, saying an extra prayer that I wouldn’t become lunch.

The wolf moved toward me, pressing its cold, wet nose to my forehead and sniffing. I stayed very still, worried that if I moved, it would decide I was prey.

After a moment the wolf pricked its ears and turned to look back at the forest. I didn’t hear anything, but clearly the wolf did. It turned once more, looking wistfully at me before loping off into the Bloodwood. I breathed a sigh of relief, struggling to stand from my crouch. The wolf looked back again as it reached the edge of the Bloodwood, letting out a parting howl as it disappeared between the trees. I wasn’t sure what to make of the encounter.

Wolves were seen as guides and guardians by witches, often heralding change or transformation. I felt neither transformed nor changed, but the experience had put me on edge.

I decided that I had probably had enough adventure for one day, so I turned to head home. Glancing back at the Bloodwood, I tried and failed to shake the feeling that something was still watching me from the shadows.

I hoped it was only the wolf.

Chapter 3

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