Page 34 of The Powerless Witch

“Go to hell!” she snarled, flattening her back against the wall.

I sighed, grabbing the hem of her shirt and tearing a chunk of it. She gasped, but I just brought it to my face and wiped it without hurry.

“All in due time, witch,” I sighed. “We’re all going there. Now, let’s get started.”

I let the cloth fall to the ground, and she gulped.

“Do your fucking worst, vampire. I won’t break!”

I let a smile creep on my lips. “Oh, I plan to. And you will break. They all do.”

She sneered, lips parting for no doubt another insult or a taunt, but instead of words, screams poured out. I started with her nails—I had found over time that it brought great pain to the human body with very little danger of it dying. She suffered stoically, squealing and whimpering while I extracted each manicured plate but apart from curses, she offered nothing else. Then I switched to breaking her fingers. Sweat dripped from her as she panted and wailed, watching me snap each of her phalanxes, then her knuckles, the sound of her bones cracking echoing in the quiet room.

She passed out on the sixth, which was almost impressive for someone of her young age. I waited for a bit before stripping her down and tossing another bucket of ice-cold water on her head.

After I was done with her fingers, I switched to the rest of her body. I didn’t bother with questions—she was going to tell me everything herself when she reached her limit.

Sliding my nails over her with surgical precision, I drew deep gashes over her skin again and again until blood was dripping from everywhere. She tried to evade my touch, yanking against her chains; she begged me to stop a few times, her voice hoarse and trembling as the words poured out, but since she offered nothing more, I continued, digging even deeper than before.

She passed out again. I poured a healing potion down her throat, waiting for a few minutes until her wounds clogged and some of the color returned to her skin. I had no intention of letting her die, not before I got what I wanted.

It took another bucket of ice-cold water and a hard slap to wake her up. She looked at me groggily but her eyes filled with instant panic as I bared my fangs. I bit into her again, devouring several gulps before realizing that taking more would end her.

So I went to my next best tool.

I took several candles from the cupboard in the corner and lit them up. Her face remained neutral, but her eyes darkened with fear. She barely stayed conscious for an hour before she slumped against the binds again, her skin red and covered with blisters—the ones on the inside of her thighs, feet, and chest already leaked yellowish fluid.

I let her rest longer this time before making her chug another restorative potion. When she came back to it, I was sitting on a chair in front of her and cleaning my nails with a knife. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the mess that was her body.

“Feeling any chattier?” I asked, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have minded taking days to question her, but I was out of patience and out of time. With the witches attacking so openly, I had no doubt they were up to no good. I couldn’t waste any more time.

Hesitation appeared on the witch’s face, but she still shook her head.

“Splendid. Let’s keep going then. Seeing how pain isn’t a strong motivation for you, maybe pleasure will be.” I winked, and her face blanched instantly. I didn’t let my smile falter—I had absolutely no interest in fucking that wretched thing, but she didn’t know that. She was already close to breaking, I could feel it. She just needed a little push. “But first, let’s do something about that skin, shall we? I think you’ll look better without it.”

After another full hour, I was vigorously fighting my frustration with how long this was taking. I had peeled the skin on her palms and the soles of her feet and was just working on her breast when she finally screamed, “Stop, please!” Her voice broke, and a whimper escaped her lips when my knife paused. “I’ll tell you…Please…”

I let my hand fall by my side, listening to her blood drip from my fingers. She panted through the pain, her skin raw and still bleeding. I didn’t push, just watched her fight with the morality of her choice.

“Regina wants…to rid the city…” Each word came out with a struggle, her breath raspy and weak while her heart beat so fast, I was afraid she might pass out again. “...of the other supernatural species. To create…a haven…for witches.” She choked and her body rocked with a vicious cough. Blood poured from the edge of her mouth while a few of the cuts reopened when her muscles spasmed.

“Interesting.” I walked to the sink, taunting her with my back while I washed away the traces of her. “How?”

She swallowed, shuffling her feet only to whimper and fall against her cuffs.

“I…don’t know exactly. I just…” I turned to face her, and she sucked in a sharp breath, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. “All I know is that there is…a spell.”

“There isn’t a spell strong enough to banish all of us.” I crossed my arms, giving her an unimpressed look. “Even if your Coven combines its power, and it does drive us out, you can’t sustain it forever. That’s a stupid plan in the long run.”

The witch nodded, resting her head on her arm as more sweat and blood dripped from her. I held her eyes—she was going to lose those next if she was lying. But her heartbeat told me she wasn’t—at least she believed she was speaking the truth.

“That’s true. But…” She licked her lips, then pressed them together as if she didn’t want to continue. I took a few steps closer, and she flinched. “Regina now has an artifact that amplifies magic. It was given to her by…Mariam Castle.” I raised an eyebrow, only half-surprised. So that’s why she was here all of this time. “Can I have…water?”

I considered it for a moment before striding back to the sink. After filling a dusty glass, I returned to her. She looked at the cup like it was full of magic, opening her mouth even before I raised it. I paused just out of her reach.

“Does Regina plan to steal Celeste’s power for this spell before killing her?” I asked, staring at the witch’s face. She didn’t look away from the glass, her breathing labored while she kept licking her lips.

“No,” she whispered, giving me a pleading look. I lowered the glass to her lips, letting her have two gulps before pulling it back. She whimpered in protest, then slacked against her binds. “Regina is not allowed to kill her.” Her voice sounded stronger, less ragged and torn, but her eyes were just as dead as she continued. “Celeste’s fate belongs to the Order of the Silver Flame. Mariam demanded it.”

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