Page 76 of The Powerless Witch

Hanging up, I turned my phone to silent and slid it back into my pocket.

The rest of the house was just as dark and quiet. The only sound came from the sighing of the boards and the scurrying of mice below. I checked the second floor first but found no pictures, mementos, or personal items humans—and witches—often liked to surround themselves with. I knew how messy and mindless with her belongings Celeste could be, so I suspected others were the same. But there was nothing here, not even candles, crystals, mortar, or pestles.

I returned to the first floor, ready to search for the basement, when I sensed the presence. They were somewhere in the yard, watching me. There were windows on both sides and even though I stuck to the shadows, I could feel their eyes on me.

I paused and listened, searching for that distinctive sound.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

They had a heartbeat, and they didn’t smell sweet, so a human. A hunter, perhaps. Most regular humans wouldn’t have noticed me, but a well-trained one might. Was it him? I didn’t have his scent, it had already mixed with everyone else’s in the headquarters, so I couldn’t be sure until I laid my eyes on him. But if I went after him now, I’d be abandoning my search. What if that was his point? To make me leave before I found something.

No, I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to make them come to me. And after making certain it was him, I was going to tear his heart out for stabbing Celeste.

I stepped forward, moving by the window and making sure the faint light from outside illuminated my profile. I expected an attack—a blessed arrow or a well-aimed stake—but they didn’t take the bait. So I continued my walk around the house, searching for the basement. I checked every door on the floor, but none led below. Yet I could sense a hollowness beneath my feet, feel the air move through the floorboards, smell the damp earth and the distant hint of herbs.

I couldmakea door easily, but the sound might alert the neighbors. The last thing I needed was the police tripping my trap. So I examined the corridor walls, tapping my knuckles against the wooden panels until the sound grew lighter and echoed. I eyed the grandfather clock that stood in my way, silent and suspiciously clean, and smiled.

I was sure there was some clever lever that opened the space or a spell that moved the door, but I lacked my usual patience tonight. Placing a hand on the side of the timepiece, I pushed. The heavy wood resisted, but after a loud crack, it slid a few steps, revealing a dark entrance behind it. A lever was jutting out where the clock had stood, along with several springs bouncing with a low ring.

I listened to the heartbeat outside, but they stayed put, waiting. Nobody tried to stop me as I stepped into the wall, making my way down the narrow staircase. I paused at the bottom, looking around with surprise. What should have been a basement looked more like a cave—and one that was obviously tended by a witch.

There were runes all over the walls, with shelves full of books, crystals, and jars filled with plants and creatures. The distinctive smell of herbs, old blood, and mold permeated the air.

I took a step forward and one of the crystals attached to the wall lit up. I listened in for the sound of a heartbeat or any movement, but there was nothing. Another couple of steps and a second crystal lit up—it wasn’t a strong light, just barely enoughfor humans to see, but to me it was like a beacon, making every little nook and cranny in the rough walls visible.

Once I passed by one of the supporting beams hiding the outer end of the basement, I froze. The entirety of one wall was taken up by pictures and scraps of paper connected by colorful duct tape, words scribbled with markers alongside each of them. Celeste’s eyes looked back at me from everywhere. Some of her pictures were recent, some were so old that they had almost completely faded. My face was there, too.

I spotted Isaac, his Beta, other members of his pack, and what I assumed was his house. Pictures of the Martens were added recently, taken from their social media. None from their home, which was now gone, but I was sure whoever did this was already familiar with every aspect of their lives.

“I hate being right,” I murmured as I neared the wall to examine it. There were pictures of Regina too, and Samara as well as several other witches. Next to the Head Witch hung a piece of paper with the name Mathias written on it, followed by five question marks.

By the end of the wall I found pictures of the Castle women—the human men they procreated with not even mentioned—but next to Mariam was a picture of her brother, Noah, and then another blank piece of paper with a question mark.

Wait, was this wall Noah’s doing? Or was it someone who was hunting the Castles as well? Maybe the hunters commandeered the property after finding out it belonged to a dead witch and used it as some kind of safe house?

One of the writings by the photos of the Castles caught my attention, and I drew closer, narrowing my eyes against the fading words. Between Mariam and her mother was written ‘vessel’ and next to the blank paper, there was the word ‘missing’ underlined three times.

My phone vibrated again, and I cursed under my breath, taking it out. I hung up, and I was just about to put it back into my pocket when an idea sprung to mind. Taking a step back, I opened the camera and turned the flash on. It might have been bright enough for me to see, but it was definitely not bright enough for a picture.

The flash went on, illuminating the space except for a deep shadow that had appeared behind me. I moved more by instinct than anything else, just as a thick stake flew through the space I had occupied and smashed into the wall. I whirled around,searching for the attacker, but he was already upon me, a long wooden spear aiming at my heart.

The phone slipped from my hand as I grabbed the spear, redirecting it away from my chest. The wood burned my skin, and I hissed but didn’t let go until it flew past my shoulder, bringing the hunter into my range. I bared my fangs and moved to tear his neck open when a rune flared on his pectoral, glowing brightly under the gray shirt he was wearing. My teeth had barely touched him when the force of the spell threw me back, and I hit the wall with the pictures, tearing them down as I fell in a crouch on the floor.

He came at me again, and with the rune still glowing, I had no way to bite him. One of the most clever things the hunters had come up with—using their own bodies to create a barrier that allowed the witch magic to work against us. The only downside to this spell was that they lost all sense of touch—their body became a ward against vampires, but it no longer functioned the same as before. I doubted he’d even be able to tell if a knife sunk into him and he bled out.

The spear flew toward my chest again and I dodged, surprised by his unrelenting speed. I couldn’t see his face properly with all the movements and the poor lighting, but he had to be a vampire hunter to be able to keep up with me. And the one that was after Celeste had been a witch hunter. Or did he train for both?

The weapon dragged along the wall, tearing down more of the carefully arranged pictures and ruining what must have been years’ worth of research. Another rune glowed on his right arm and I ducked when he jabbed with the spear, driving it into the stone wall with such force that the wood splintered.

By the time I took a step back to give myself some space, he had a stake in each hand. Throwing his head back, he bared his teeth at me.

“You’re not him,” I snarled.

“Does it matter who will send you to hell?” the hunter spat, then attacked again.

I was ready this time, dodging his right hand and catching the left in a grip that would have shattered most bones. The goddamn rune protected his body again. Snarling, I yanked his hand to the side, forcing him to drop the weapon. That little success cost me as he plunged the other one into my chest, missing my heart by a mere inch, only because I twisted my body in time.

I roared as the runes carved on the stake lit up, setting the wood aflame while its tongue licked my shirt, devouring the fabric. I forced him back just enough to get myfoot between us, kicking at his chest with all my strength. The spell protecting him rebounded, and we both flew back. We slammed into the walls with such power that the house shuddered, dust raining down on us while the ceiling groaned.

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