Page 52 of The Powerless Witch

A low growl reverberated through Nym’s body and his burning eyes flashed to me right when I caught a whiff of it. Blood. A lot of blood.

I nodded in agreement, then we were moving again. His dark form melted into the shadows, making him impossible to detect, even with my senses. If it wasn’t for the intense infernal aura and his distinctive scent, I would have thought he had vanished into thin air.

I found the first traces of blood half a mile from where we passed. A few drops here, several more there, until the trail became obvious enough even for a human to follow. And so did the smell.

The moment I stepped into the small clearing, I was ready to pounce. Seven people stood in among the trees, as if waiting for me. No, eight. I almost missed the last of them since they had knelt in the bushes, almost hidden from view.

Yet even as I appeared, they didn’t attack, didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge my arrival. A second look confirmed why that was—they were all dead. And not the kind of dead that drank blood and preyed on other monsters.

I straightened up, stepping into the middle of the clearing to have a better look. The clouds parted, letting some of the muted moonlight out, and I frowned at the sight.

There was a woman, propped against a tree trunk, with her neck snapped. Her arm was twisted at an odd angle and the earth beneath her was soaked with her blood. Still, there wasn’t enough of it for her to have bled there. She had been dead long before she was moved into place.

A man slumped by the neighboring tree, his chest torn open and his heart missing. His clothes were drenched in his guts, but still, he hadn’t died there.

The next body was of another woman with a knife embedded in her chest. The man beside her sat with his arms and head in his lap, the mangled flesh where they had been ripped off already smelling of decay. Another body slouched near, throat gaping open. Beside him, a woman was strapped to the lower branches, her back shredded so viciously that I could see herbones.

My stomach hollowed, and a feeling I hadn’t felt for almost a thousand years filled the emptiness in my chest. I knew what I would see behind me even before I turned. Yet it didn’t make it any easier as my eyes settled on the one that I had almost missed because she was kneeling behind the tree, not displayed in front of it like the others. Her gray-and-brown hair was curtaining her face, her head bowed down and her hands burrowed into the ground like she was searching for something she had dropped. There was no sign of violence on her, but I knew that if I touched the back of her head, there would be blood.

“What in the seven hells?” Nym muttered behind me and a glance to the side told me he had caught up. He studied the corpses with disgust, his eyes lingering on the last one—the one I refused to look at. “This feels personal,” he mumbled. “You know who did this.” It wasn’t a question, but the way he looked at me told me he wouldn’t be taking silence for an answer.

“It’s a message,” I replied, my voice coming out surprisingly hoarse. Nym raised an eyebrow, and I took a step back, turning to face the last of the bodies. He wasn’t hidden in the bushes or propped against the tree like the rest. In fact, it was hard to tell it had been a man because his entire body was shredded and dropped into a thoughtless pile that barely had a human shape. This wasn’t done here either, but the arrangement was careful, deliberate.

I felt like I should be gagging or trembling or even screaming. Like I should feel remorse or guilt or sadness. Something other than fear. Something other than hate. But I didn’t.

“Roman…” Nym said impatiently, and I took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. It didn’t help. It hadn’t helped for a long, long time.

“This is my family, a representation of them,” I replied, glad my voice sounded normal again. It had been a while since I thought of them, since I allowed myself to remember. “From the night I killed them.”

Nym let out a low hissing sound as he turned his head to look at them again. It was hard to read his features, but when his eyes rose to mine, the question in them was clear.

“What does it mean and who did it?” the familiar bristled, taking a step back when the blood from my father—the man who was supposed to represent my father—trickled closer, almost touching his paw.

“There was only one person with me that night, only one person who saw all and erased it from the world,” I replied, the memory of our last meeting flashing before my eyes. Her warning still haunted my nightmares.

“I can wait, the Elders can wait. But one day, she will be in my hands, amor, and then no amount of begging will save her. Or you, for that matter, should you choose to stand in my way.”

“Your Maker,” Nym said before I could. “What does the message say?”

I gritted my teeth, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it on the ground. I started rolling my sleeves, focusing all of my will on not ripping the fabric.

“To remember what I am and who I owe my life to,” I replied quietly, refusing to meet the familiar’s gaze. “To remind me who gave me my power and who can take it away.”

I paused when a low growl reverberated behind me, turning just as Nym’s form expanded, the nightmare sent from hell filling the space between us. I fought the urge to flee while he lowered his giant head to mine.

“Is she going to be a problem?” he hissed, that voice that sounded like the burning souls of hell screaming making my skin prickle. “Is Celeste in danger of her?”

“No,” I replied quickly, maybe too quickly. “It was just a warning for me.” Nym narrowed his eyes as if he could sense the hint of a lie in my tone. “If she becomes a problem, we will take care of her. You have my word. I would burn in the sun before I let anything happen to Celeste.”

Nym stared and stared, his scalding breath brushing over my face. Then he retreated a step, nodding in agreement.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “What do you want to do with them?”

I followed his gaze to the innocent people who had become just a means to an end, to the pain and suffering they must have endured for a wicked woman’s whim.

“Burn them,” I said, stepping toward the form hidden behind the tree and gently picking her up. She was cold and stiff, the smell of death on her heavier than the others. “Nobody must learn of this, not even Celeste. I’ll take care of it.” The familiar seemed to think it over, his fur bristling.

“Very well.” Nym turned around, striding to the closest body and opening his mouth as if to devour it. His teeth locked around the man’s torso like it was some tiny doll and not a fully grown human. “Do not do anything stupid. Celeste will be upsetif you die, and I hate to see her upset. Sometimes, the wounds in our hearts are the ones that kill us.”

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