Page 119 of Soul of a Witch

The thought filled me with warmth. A life without the God, without the Libiri. We could stay safely in this house or we could travel as we wished.

I could have a life I’d thought was impossible.

But, between us and that life, the God still stood.

“We should seek the council’s blessing,” Callum said. “They will give us an audience, and I want the royals of Hell to see the witch who is fighting in their names. It will help put an end to the bitterness between Lucifer and I, if I do something properly for once. And while we’re there, it will give you a few days to rest. You’ve been working yourself hard.”

With a heavy sigh, I said, “Some rest would be nice. My brain feels like soup. But even a single day I’m not practicing is a day too many.”

“Time passes differently in Hell,” he said. “A day on Earth is nearly three days there. You won’t miss anything. Your body can rest while your spirit wanders with me. How does that sound?”

There was such eager light in his dark eyes that I nodded quickly, despite my fears. “It sounds amazing and terrifying. Of course I want to go!”

When I awoke the next morning, there was only one thought at the forefront of my mind. I, a living breathing human, was going to walk through the gates of Hell. A witch who’d only just learned how to control her power was going to stand before beings who had been wielding magic for thousands of years, and insist I could be trusted.

For several minutes, all I could do was lie in bed with a churning stomach. What did one wear when presenting themselves to Hell’s royalty? A pencil skirt and blazer? A gown? Heels? Was I supposed to bow? Offer my hand? Hold my head high?

I wasn’t ready for this.

Yet, I was also as ready as I would ever be.

Callum had left my room while I slept, which was no surprise. He’d been antsy last night, barely able to lay still in bed as I drifted off into sleep. Our nerves ebbed and flowed into each other, and only when I dragged myself on top of him, sprawling across his chest, did he finally lay still.

The scent of food wafted from beneath the cloche-covered plate on my table, but I couldn’t tolerate eating when my stomach was determined to tie itself into knots. I was facing the task of leaving Earth, casting my spiritual self so far outside my body that I could walk in Hell. That wasn’t a simple thing to do, even for experienced witches.

But Callum would be by my side. He would show me the way.

As I passed by the library, Grams called to me, “Looking for the demon? He’s in his room. Been in there for hours!”

There was a question implied in her tone, but I didn’t have an answer for her. Callum hadn’t stepped foot in that room since I first stumbled through the door, so I couldn’t imagine why he’d returned there now.

Making my way down the hallway, I could see the large doors were ajar. A smile came to my face when I remembered sprinting down this same hall, stumbling in terror, certain I was about to die at the hands of the monstrous beast I’d accidentally unleashed.

Now that monster was my prince. The beast was as loving as he was vicious, as loyal as he was dangerous.

“Callum?” I called his name as I slipped through the door. My demon stood at the far side of the room, in front of a large framed mirror. But something was different.

At first, I thought another demon had broken into the house. Callum’s back was to me; he was naked, facing the mirror. But his skin, nearly every inch of him, was tattooed. Elaborate, detailed artwork, the likes of which I’d never seen on a human. The colors changed as I walked closer; even the lines themselves shifted, as if the art was alive.

But it wasn’t only that. In the mirror’s reflection, I watched as he slid a slim silver ring through his lower lip, adjusting it until a tiny crimson jewel was visible. Like a drop of blood in the center of his mouth.

His gaze shifted toward me in the mirror.

“Callum…you look…beautiful.” It was the only word that could truly encompass my awe, my disbelief. Callum’s expression was stunningly hard but somehow fragile. Softened, ever so slightly, by the visual acknowledgment of all the love he’d ever felt. All the love he’d ever been given.

It covered him like a tapestry. Jewels, ink, and metal. Lifetimes of love and devotion. But seeing it all, as beautiful as it was, filled me with sadness too. As I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist to lay my head against his back, I felt him shake.

Every mark, every piece of jewelry, was a life lost. A soul he would never meet again, a voice he would never hear, a touch he would never feel.

“It’s for you, Everly,” he said. His voice was carefully controlled, but I felt the pain coursing through him. “Only for you would I go to war again. Only for you. But if I’m going to go, then I’ll carry them with me. They deserve to see vengeance. They deserve to taste the blood of the gods again.”

“They do. And they will.”

He turned to face me, and I reached up to lay my hand against his cheek. It made him look more human. Less like a being carved from marble and more like a creature of flesh and blood. A creature that could feel, so deeply and with such passion he’d locked it all away just so he could bear to go on living.

“This is it, isn’t it?” I said. “We’re going to war.”

His fingers brushed gently against my face. “Yes, my love. We’re going to war, and you will lead the way.”

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