Page 27 of Blood Coven

Step by step, she navigated the unruly terrain, grasping the trees for help. Through the fog that clouded her mind, she wondered if the Mørke forest, alive with its untethered power, was truly moving. A large root shifted as she stepped over, catching onto the toe of her boot and knocking her down.

Red hit the ground. She could smell the fertile soil as she disrupted it with her impact. Frustrated, she shouted at the Earth, “You’re supposed to give me power!”

The forest stopped moving, obeying her command and ceasing its trickery.

Red composed herself and got back to her feet. Where the dirt covered her, the skin tingled like a healing wound. She took a few deep breaths, trying to separate reality from fiction, and continued on.

Suddenly, Red felt a pair of eyes on her, forcing her to stop. As it had before, her conscious body functions ceased. Red froze like prey in the eyes of a predator, hoping she would remain unnoticed. Darting off would not only get her lost, but it was also certain to get her killed.

Think about how brave your friends are, Red thought. Tatiana and Lilianna face their beast of a father each night, Sorin looks over her shoulder, wondering when the townsfolk will decide to drive her out…or, worse, light her pyre. And Alina, the sort of love she feels is unnatural to the small-minded.

The pair of eyes appeared in the fog, soot-black and glimmering as though lit from within. Instead of cowering or begging for her life like she might have done a few days ago, Red stared back and waited to see what they belonged to. A wolf? Or a man?

When a stick broke, Red knew it was a man; animals were not that careless. At first, Red was comforted by the thought, but an insidious feeling crept in. Throughout her life, she had never been harmed by an animal…but had been struck many times by a man. Men are more dangerous than wolves.

“W-who’s there?” The words came out chalky, her voice crackling.

At last, he stepped into view—a tall man with scraggly brown hair, unkempt like he had never run a comb through it in his life. He would have been comely had his eyes not been such a deep black, like the night without stars. Red felt their intense gaze reading every single part of her. He was shirtless, his burly torso riddled with ancient scars, and his trousers were filthy, covered in the patchwork of a man who didn’t know how to sew.

He stared blankly at her, his lips slightly parted as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words.

Red couldn’t help but wonder if the man before her had lived so long in the woods that he lost his humanity—or if he even had it in the first place. The little she knew of the Wolf came from the legends told to her as a child—stories of a dangerous wolf-man lurking in these woods, waiting for the sacrifice of a daughter so he could defile her. I’m not about to let this scraggly forest-dwelling man touch me. She did not feel threatened by him as he stood there, not making any move to get closer to her.

“Who are you?” she asked more directly.

His eyes darted up to meet hers, a sudden look of defeat on his face. His lips remained parted, and she saw his tongue move to form words, but only a sort of breath came out, betraying his frustration and shame. Exhaustion hollowed out his features as if he’d been defeated by the curse. For the first time, Red felt an odd sense of sympathy for such a creature.

Father must have wanted Mayor Fischer dead, she thought, remembering his rants toward the Mayor and his family. It was clear that her father coveted the office of Mayor. A chill ran down her spine. The mayor’s son, Sebastian, was near her age, and his daughter, Celeste, was six. But it was her life that mattered now.

Red studied him. This was—he was—like nothing she expected. “Y-you are the Wolf?” she asked.

He seemed to register something with her words, and he slowly nodded.

“Have you come to kill me?” Maybe this should have been my first question.

She took a step forward, struck by the powerful instinct to become the bigger predator, to be the braver one. After all, the Wolf she was so afraid of turned out to be mute, scraggly, and almost frightened of her presence in his forest. She recalled tales of a witch creating him. Red had the power of the craft within her; perhaps he sensed it.

His eyes narrowed as she approached, taking in her face in the dim light. Something made him flinch; his eyes widened, and he took a step back as if preparing to run from her.

I am nothing to fear, she thought as curiosity ate away her terror. Devoured it whole, and she was no longer afraid. The roles reversed, predator now fearing prey, Red had the power now. Or maybe I am the power.

He let out a shaky breath, then slowly answered her with a shake of his head.

No, he was not there to kill her.

18

OCLEAU

THE YEAR OF THE CURSE

AZALEA

Azalea watched Ana crumple to the floor, convulsing and frothing at the mouth. Matthias knelt before her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and tilting her sideways to thrust a finger into her mouth so she could breathe more easily.

A memory from when Matthias was but a child flooded Azalea. Only it was Matthias’s father who was convulsing on the ground, face bloated, breaths turning into empty gasps. I tried so hard to keep him alive, Azalea thought. She looked at how tenderly Matthias was coaxing Ana to breathe. He is so much like his father.

A few moments passed, and the color came back to Ana’s cheeks. Her breathing returned to normal, and her eyes began to focus. They locked with Matthias’s, and her expression softened.

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