Page 23 of Soul of a Witch

“Don’t fall behind, my lady.”

Barely biting back another apology, I trotted after him.

The tall glass doors swung out as we approached, opening into a courtyard. Flat gray stones lined the crescent-shaped space, and bushes covered with white and yellow flowers bordered the walkway. A massive greenhouse stood at the far end of the courtyard; its blue-tinted glass covered with thick creeping vines.

The rain was still pouring, splattering across the stones and forming little puddles.

“Stay close,” Callum said, his arm brushing lightly against my own. The touch was so quick, so casual, yet it was as stark and shocking as if he’d slapped me.

We stepped outside, and I braced for the cold downpour, but it never hit me. The rain simply slid around us as if we were holding a large umbrella. I looked up to find a translucent dome above us, colored faintly purple and iridescent. The rain struck it and rolled off, and I gaped in amazement.

“Is that aether?” I whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

Aether was a magical substance, naturally occurring, invisible and nearly impossible to control. It was strange and malleable, full of potential. It could allow a witch to create something out of nothing, like a pull a needle out of thin air.

“Yes, it is.” The demon glanced at me, a smirk curving his lips. Damn it all, he knew I was impressed. I cleared my throat and nodded, focusing on the path ahead.

A massive tree had grown over the greenhouse door, its sprawling roots sitting on top of the stones. The trunk was gnarled and bent in a way that made it appear like a man was trapped within the wood, his head resting at the apex of the long branches.

“Is there another way in?” I said.

Callum was looking at the tree with a frown.

“No. If this entrance is guarded, the other one will be as well.”

“Guarded?” I stepped toward the tree, laying my hand against the wood. It was surprisingly warm. “You mean the tree is guarding it on purpose? It didn’t simply grow here?”

“Woodspries do not grow without intention, woman.”

The voice was melodic but deep, with a timbre that hinted at a clever tongue and wicked mischief.

The treemoved. The human face I’d seen within it was real. The eyes blinked, the head lifted, a torso and arms melted out of the wood. The man in the tree leaned toward me, his eyes like orbs of sap and his pupils like tiny clustered seeds. He had no flesh — he was made of the wood itself, his upper body leaning out of the trunk like a serpent.

Callum regarded him coldly, but the man in the tree only had eyes for me.

“Well, well,” he said, repeating the word nearly a dozen times before he inhaled and darted his face toward me. Callum’s arm shot out and braced against my chest, forcing me back several steps at the wooden man’s sudden movement. I wasn’t sure which was more alarming: the being in the tree or the demon’s touch.

“Who seeks entry here?” the tree man said, amber eyes roaming over me greedily. “A witch and her demon, peculiar, peculiar, hmm…there hasn’t been a witch here in a long time, eh? Has there?” He looked off to the side, nodding as if someone else was speaking to him. “Ah, yes, yes. No witches have been here in a great many years…ten, fifteen, twenty…” His gaze slid back over to me. “Except the dead ones.”

“Who are you?” I said. What had he called himself? A Woodsprie?

“I have been called Darragh by some,” the creature said. “Not a very clever witch, are you? Never even heard of a Woodsprie.” He made a sound as if he’d sharply clicked his tongue. “Terrible. What are they teaching these days?”

“I think you forget, Darragh, how rare your kind is now,” Callum said dryly.

Darragh rolled his eyes over to him, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Oh yes, how dare I forget,” he said. “The slaughter of my kind. Humans love to cut us down. Cutting, burning, chopping. Laying waste to the forests we once protected. It will destroy them, one day. When the last Woodsprie is dead, Earth will die, too.” His gaze darted back to me; his expression suddenly sharper, suspicious. “Who are you?”

I took a deep breath. Time to see if I could indeed claim a little power.

“I’m Everly Laverne,” I said, mustering as much confidence into my voice as I could. “I am the daughter of Heidi Laverne, the granddaughter of Winona. And I need entry, if you would allow me.”

“He will,” Callum said, and the Woodsprie’s head twitched.

“Everly Laverne,” Darragh repeated my name slowly. He extended his hand, palm up. “Very well. Let us see.” I wasn’t sure what he wanted until he added, “Your hand, witch.”

I thought he meant to read my palm, to see my identity laid out in the fragile lines of my skin. I placed my hand in his, finding him warm but gentle as he drew me closer. His amber eyes were so strange, liquid and glassy. He brought his head down, tracing his nose close to my hand as he sniffed.

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