Page 7 of Soul of a Witch

“Please, Everly!” Tears streamed down her face. “You need to remember. It’s important, please, you need to remember.”

I stood over her, tipping my head slowly to the side. Her blood would paint this forest. It would be my greatest work of art.

“Sybil knows the way,” she whispered. She said it again. And again.

Her words grew faster. They ran together.

My ears were ringing. My lungs ached. The scratching in my skull wouldn’t stop.

I needed it to stop.

I lifted the knife, and she didn’t react. She just kept whispering.

“Your blood will feed this soil, Raelynn,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like my own.

She instantly fell silent. Her eyes were wide, and she was still as stone. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth. Wide. Too wide. Her jaw audibly popped out of place, and she screamed –

I jolted awake.

My sketchbook slipped off my lap, hitting the wood floor with athud. Colored pencils rolled away from me across the desk, falling to the ground one by one before I could scramble to grab them.

“Shit – damn it!” I slammed my head on the desk as I tried to crawl underneath to grab them. For a moment, I sat there on the floor, rubbing my head and feeling sorry for myself.

It was late. The library would be closing any minute. Damn it, I must have been asleep for hours. With a heavy sigh, I collected my fallen items and crawled to my feet, before putting everything away into my bag.

The university library was quiet; the only sound was the rain as it streaked down the large stained-glass window over the entry doors. My head ached, but the memory of my nightmare was already fading. All that remained was that name.

Raelynn. Who the hell was Raelynn?

The semester wouldn’t start for another couple of weeks, but I’d spent most of my summer here in the library regardless. I adored the dusty-vanilla scent of the books. I loved the hidden alcoves, vaulted ceiling, and muted light from the old sconces lining the walls.

It was my haven, my little taste of freedom; a glimpse into all the wonders of the world that lay waiting for me.

Waiting for me to get away.

I was on the library’s second floor, overlooking the entryway below, surrounded by tall shelves and scattered desks. One of my pencils had rolled out of my reach, and I narrowed my eyes as I extended my hand toward it. I envisioned it rolling toward me, back to the foot of my seat so I could pick it up.

It didn’t even wiggle.

Trying to use magic was like stretching a stiff muscle, or writing with my left hand. It required intense focus, and even then, my control was weak at best.

Gritting my teeth, I curled my fingers as if to draw the pencil toward me.

The pencil flew from the floor, spearing through the air. It pierced into the wall behind me, barely missing my head as I ducked. Shit. I hurriedly yanked the pencil from the wall and winced when I saw the hole it left behind.

Hopefully, no one would notice.

It was late enough that I’d surely missed the last bus. I would need to jog back home in the dark. Most people around here would never dare go out alone after sunset, but I didn’t mind it anymore. If I stayed on the road, I would likely be fine.

If I wasn’t…there would be one final nightmare before it was all over.

A nearby footstep made me jump, but I sighed in relief when William Frawley rounded the bookshelves, a curious look on his bespectacled face. He was one of the librarians, and could usually be found sitting behind the crescent-shaped desk in the entryway, nose buried in a book.

“Are you okay?” he said. “I heard a noise.”

“I bumped my knee,” I said, wincing and rubbing the appendage to give credit to my lie. “Sorry. Did I disturb anyone?”

“No one is left to disturb.” He chuckled lightly, holding up his keyring. “I was just about to start locking up.”

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