Page 11 of Soul of a Witch

4

Everly

My vision spun as I lifted my head from the grass. Trees surrounded me, as did the thick spiky tendrils of wild blackberry bushes. My clothes were soaked by the pouring rain, my limbs so cold they were numb. My bookbag had spilled open, and my sketchbook lay in the mud, swollen from the damp.

Quickly gathering my things, I climbed to my feet on wobbly legs.

I wasn’t on the university campus anymore. The forest surrounded me, the shadows thick and impenetrable. Vague silhouettes loomed in the dark; whether they were trees or something else, I had no way to be sure.

Slowly, I turned around, and my breath caught in my throat.

A house stood before me, larger and grander than any I’d ever seen. Shrouded in darkness, it looked like something out of a fairytale; a crooked castle that had made its home among the trees. Its three narrow towers stood as tall as the pines, the boughs of which were wrapped around the pale gray stones like a lover’s embrace. The windows were dark and overhung with vines, and moss covered the walls. Thick roots protruded from the ground, framing the house’s red entry doors with gnarled wood.

Braided thread covered the doors like a spider’s web, and dozens of small talismans hung around the entryway. Made of woven twigs, string, and fishbone, they swayed in the breeze, rattling as they knocked together.

I’d seen such trinkets before, usually hung on the doors of Abelaum’s superstitious old residents. They were meant to ward off the attention of the Deep One.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream, or a trauma-induced hallucination. I lifted my hand to rub my face but stopped. My trembling fingers were sticky with blood, and the front of my dress was stained with it.

Marcus’s blood.

My eyes stung, and my throat swelled. Magic had a mind of its own, and mine rebelled like a feral beast. It tried to protect me in the only way it could — by spontaneously teleporting me away from the chaos. Right now, back in Calgary Hall, Marcus was dying, or already dead.

There was nothing I could do. No way I could stop it.

I wasn’t supposed towantto stop it.

The wind changed, bringing the vile scent of putrefaction rushing in my nose. Nearly gagging, I clapped my hand over my mouth, turning to peer back into the shadowy forest. Amid the darkness of the swaying leaves, something stirred.

Somethingbig.

A bone-white skeletal snout emerged from the darkness. Milky eyes stared at me, jagged teeth clipping sharply as the beast stepped forward. Its limbs were long and boney, with rotten gray flesh stretched over its misshapen, canid body. A twisted half-spider, half-wolf creature that carried the stench of death upon it.

It was one of the Eld. An ancient, warped species of beast that manifested in places that had endured great suffering and bloodshed. The God’s magic had always drawn them here in terrifying numbers; in the night, the forest was theirs, and they would consume anyone foolish enough to step into their path.

Tonight, that fool was me.

The beast wasn’t alone. More of them appeared in the darkness, teeth bared, thick putrid saliva dripping from their jaws. With every step I backed away, they advanced. Their joints popped and crackled as they moved, hunching toward me. If there was ever a time for my magic to teleport me away, it was now.

The fire within me smoldered with fear, but all I managed was a few pathetic sparks.

The beasts lowered their heads. I was weak, vulnerable. Easy prey, with plenty of magic in me to feast upon.

With no choice left, I turned and ran toward the house.

Their grunting breaths were horrifically close on my heels as I sprinted through the overgrown grass. Leaping up the steps, I threw myself at the door, seizing it and throwing all my weight against it. But I swiftly jerked back in pain. Unseen barbs on the backside of the knob had sunk into my fingers, leaving behind tiny puncture wounds that blossomed with beads of blood.

With a burst of light, the lanterns hanging on either side of the red doors flared to life. Within seconds, every window was alight. There was a furious howl, and a flurry of branches snapping. When I glanced back toward the beasts, they had fled.

There was a long, slow creak, then light pooled around my feet.

The house was open.

My footsteps echoed off the marble floors as I entered the house. The doors shut behind me of their own volition with an audible click as if a lock had slid into place. It was surprisingly warm. A large chandelier dangled overhead, suspiciously void of cobwebs. All its candles were lit, bathing the room in a soft glow.

A grand staircase was before me. The wooden steps led up to a landing, upon which sat a statue of a woman holding a dagger in her outstretched hand. The stairs split from there to the right and left, the walls along them covered with paintings in elaborate gilded frames. Clouds of dust poofed into the air as I walked, my head tipped back in wonder at the arched ceiling.

It smelled old; dust, damp, and mold permeated the air.

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