Page 118 of Soul of a Witch

He stepped back, fog swirling around him. The leaves rustled, whispers and giggles echoing around us. With a final rush of wind, the Old Man vanished, and the whispers faded away.

42

Everly

That night, I did not truly sleep. When the drain of magic finally caught up with me and I couldn’t keep my feet, Callum carried me on his back to the house. Dawn was creeping over the horizon by the time we returned, but I closed my eyes against the encroaching day.

Darkness still had its hold on me, and the growing light made me anxious. Callum pulled all the curtains closed, plunging my bedroom into beautiful, comforting darkness. Limp and exhausted, I let him wash my face with a cloth, then my hands, my arms, my feet. All the while I lay still and silent, relinquishing all control to simply trust in his care.

He sang to me as I drifted in and out of sleep, in a language I’d never heard. Or perhaps I only imagined the words, the sounds. It was difficult to differentiate between what I was dreaming and what was actually happening around me.

He held me close, and I sprawled naked on his chest, eyes so heavy I couldn’t open them even if I wanted to. The smoke of the bonfire still swirled around me, and I could hear the echoes of the forest: the crickets, the rustling leaves, the trickling water.

For hours, I drifted in and out of dreams. While my body lay at rest, my mind was running through the trees. Running…running until my lungs burned, until my feet were cut and my arms covered in scratches from whipping branches. Deeper and deeper into the trees. Deeper into the darkness.

But I wasn’t afraid. The darkness was my cloak, it was my protection. The darkness was the beginning. The darkness was the end.

But I wasn’t the only thing lurking in the dark.

When I finally stirred from sleep, it was with a lingering feeling of trepidation. Pushing myself up from Callum’s chest, I rubbed my aching eyes and paused, frowning as I tried to remember why I was feeling like this.

“Did you dream?” he said, rubbing his hand over my back. “What did you see?”

“Darkness. Only darkness. I was running, and…” I paused, trying so hard to remember. “Something was watching me. But it couldn’t reach me.”

He nodded. He balked at nothing. He listened to my worries and my fears and didn’t judge me for them. And he…

He loved me.

The memory of him speaking those words suddenly filled my mind, making my heart beat faster and my chest feel as if it was full of fluttering moths. I laid down on him again, craning my neck to kiss his mouth.

“I love you,” I whispered.

His dark eyes gazed into mine. His fingers stroked through my tangled hair, both of us laughing softly when he got caught on knots and had to tug through them.

“And I love you,” he said. “You were divine last night. Not only your magic. Your confidence. Your bravery. You’ve faced so much, darling.” He paused, holding me close. “I want to take you away from here.”

Smiling, I said, “Where will you take me?”

He hesitated before he spoke, his lips parting and closing several times before he said, “To Hell. To Dantalion, the High City. The seat of the council.”

“That’s not possible though, is it? At least not until I’m…well, not until I’m dead?”

“Witches can walk past the Veil and through the Betwixt. They can enter Hell, if they have someone to let them in. And you do.”

When he grinned, a nervous laugh burst out of me. My smile faded, then reappeared, then faded again. “You really think I can? I could make it there?”

“I have no doubt. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in Hell. At least, since I’ve been there willingly. I haven’t wanted to go back. But when I’m with you, you make me think of home. All the beautiful, magical places I haven’t seen in so long. You make me want to share a part of my life with you that I thought I would never return to.”

“I want to see it,” I said softly, even though the declaration made me shiver with nerves.

The cuts I’d given him last night were fully healed, but very thin scars remained beneath his collarbones, and I traced them with my fingers.

“There was a time when I never wanted to go back,” he said. “Every familiar place caused me pain. There were memories everywhere, inescapable reminders of those I’d lost. It’s still painful. I don’t think mourning ever truly ends. But for a long time, Hell was all I knew. It’s a part of me. It’s part of you now too.” He reached out, touching the scars on my stomach. “Hell considers killing a God to be an act of war. When the gods were chased out of Hell, the council demanded that if one was found and going to be killed, the hunter who sought to kill it would go to them first and seek their blessing. I never did.” He grinned, but the expression wasn’t joyful. “The war had never ended in my mind. My army was gone but I was still a warrior. But now…things have changed.”

He had changed, and so had I. Things I had once thought impossible were within my grasp. A future without the terror of the God looming over us was closer than ever, and yet still so far away.

“When the Deep One is dead, my war is over,” he said. “It’s been too long. I don’t want to run from the pain anymore. I want a life of peace. I want to know what it feels like to rest. I want to spend eternity learning how to love you.”

---