Page 12 of Mortal Desires

Nothing became clearer as I went down. White, dense mist engulfed me, making it impossible to see anything but my own feet taking one step at a time.

The uproar inside my chest was defying. I braced myself, cold and afraid. The steps never stopped, leading me further than I’ve ever been from my sisters.

When I gave up thinking there was anything but an endless stairwell, I hit the bottom.

The mist cleared, and I trembled, smelling heavy magic in the air.

“Penny?” I whispered, afraid to hear who would answer.

No one did.

A few feet away, a heavy stone door begged to be opened. My fingers twitched. My body accepted fate more than I did.

I tried calling for Penny again. She was the one I followed. She was in danger. Maybe. But my heart hammering inside my chest told me something else was at play.

I had to be here.

Logically, I hated the implication. I was alone for the first time in my life. Truly alone. The red ring and Marnie’s premonition still weighed heavy on my conscience.

I cleared my throat, resigned to my fate. My palm touched the cold stone, and I pushed. The door swung open with very little resistance.

Inside, I stepped onto bright white marble floors with golden accents. I breathed deeply, recognizing the night-blooming jasmine scent. A tear rolled down my face and fell to the floor. I gasped, bringing my cold hands to my cheeks, not realizing I was crying.

“Everyone cries when they meet death,” said a voice that was so cold, it froze the air inside my very lungs.

Tears kept rolling down my cheeks, a sob tore from my throat, and I looked up to finally face whoever owned the cruelest voice I’d ever heard.

I first noticed the hooves. Thick as tree trunks, dark fur covered his legs that went up to his human-like torso. His chest, white as the marble floors, looked solid and ripped with muscle while his hair fell down to his waist, dark and heavy. A set of powerful horns adorned his head, black just like his eyes.

He was something out of a nightmare, sitting on a throne in the middle of an opulent room like a king rather than a monster.

I sobbed when I wanted to look strong. I froze when I wanted to run.

Trapped, I dared to ask. “Where am I?”

“Welcome to hell, Pilar Morales.”

Her eyes scanned my throne room, heartbeat skyrocketing as she searched for an exit, only to be surprised when the only door abruptly closed. The edges disappeared, sealing us together.

She yelped, placing a hand over her chest. Even from this far, I could taste her fear that perfumed my palace.

“Who are you?”

She was full of questions, none of them good enough to deserve an answer.

I felt it irrelevant for her to know her whereabouts when she was never leaving and inconsequential for her to learn my identity when her role was to obey.

I spent a lot of years hating Pilar Morales, but now that she stood in front of me with her big eyes blown wide and her hands trembling, I only wanted to laugh.

Witches were practically human. It didn’t matter what they liked to believe. With her soft skin and limited powers, Pilar was just another girl who went down the stairs like so many before her.

The only difference—she was still alive.

“Where’s Penny?”

Finally an interesting question. I watched her carefully, scanning her fragile frame before I replied, “Where she belongs.”

Pilar took a step further, forgetting herself for a second too long. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

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