Page 11 of The Soulless Witch

‘You are not a coward,’I told myself, rolling my shoulders back.‘You have been through horrors these people can’t even imagine, died over a hundred times, and crawled out of the earth just as often. You can do this.’

Nodding to myself, I joined the stream of people while trying to recall the map. I had made Lily search for any stores that sold herbs or remedies—or even labeled themselves as magic shops. She had given me a strange look before typing what I wanted on that phone of hers, then showed me the two results she got. One was at the edge of the town, and Lily had said we’d need the car to get to it. The other was close to the central street—the reason I had chosen to come here to shop instead of the Mall, whatever that was.

I made my way through the labyrinth of narrow alleys in search of the place. I had a great memory, or so I kept telling myself, but even I got disoriented between the hovering buildings that started to look the same, the vehicles parked haphazardly on the streets, and the booths and storefronts and doors leading to who knows where. I was just about to ask for directions when I spotted it.

Hidden at the bottom of a big, red-bricked building, the place wasn’t much to look at. The glass front was small, and covered with symbols warning any supernatural creature that this was a neutral zone, where anyone could find remedies and potions for their ailments. To the human eye, the markings probably looked decorative, but I could feel the spell woven into the words. If anyone entered the shop with ill intent, the ward would blast them out. If they were lucky.

I strode to the front door, a small bell announcing my arrival as I stepped in. The shop had a tall ceiling, its walls covered with jars full of liquids, herbs, or salts. A smile appeared on my face as I inhaled the familiar smells.

This I knew very well. This felt like home.

“Welcome.” A low, hoarse voice came from behind me and I turned, just as an old woman made her way to the counter. “What can I do for you, young…” The woman froze mid-step, her eyes going wide when our gazes met. I waited for her to finish, but she only turned paler, her irises growing so big that the brown of her eyes almost disappeared.

Before I could say a word, she dropped to her knees, bending over until her palms were lying flat on the ground, her forehead resting between them. Her fear was so strong that I could taste it even without my magic. The old woman was definitely a witch, an old one with a decent capacity for magic, but her body seemed too frail to handle more than a couple of spells before it failed her.

And she definitely knew who I was.WhatI was.

No witch would lower herself like that unless her only other option was death. Or unless she was trying to protect something.

I held back a sigh of annoyance, staring at the woman with a mix of pity and curiosity. Most witches would have attacked, if only to buy themselves time to escape, but she hadn’t even reached for her magic. The second then, but what exactly did she have here that was so valuable?

“What’s your coven’s name?” I asked, striding to the shelf on my left and picking up one of the jars. I opened its lid and sniffed, smiling as the scent of the yellow flower tickled my nostrils. The highest quality, this shop was a gold mine.

“The Coven of Eternal Light,” the old woman whispered. “I’m the overseer of all sisters who live in this city. Our coven has no quarrel with you, Ancient one. Our only goal is to heal and protect, not harm. Please, have mercy.”

I put the container down, turning to face her.

The Coven of Eternal Light, one of the nine covens that ruled over all witches in the world, was likely the smallest threat I faced. I did have a good relationship with their Head Witch, Morena—or I used to in my previous life—and most of them were indeed only interested in the arts of healing. They even provided sanctuary and protection to other races, not just witches.

“Rise,” I ordered, and the old woman got up with a grunt. Her eyes remained on the floor, as if she was too afraid to look at me. I was just about to tell her to do just that when the sound of running feet had me turning my attention to something behind her. A pair of girls appeared, wearing matching dresses and shiny white shoes. They stopped by the old woman and gawked at me. I smiled at them until I noticed the old woman growing rigid.

Now it made sense, what she was protecting. Witchlings were indeed a rare treasure.

“Please, not them,” she whispered, finally raising her eyes to meet mine. There were tears in them and her face looked so pale, I wondered if she might get a heart attack from how fast her heart was racing. “You can have anything you want in the store. Just don’t take them. Please, I’ll do anything!”

Anger flared inside my chest and I felt my eye tick.

This happened every time. Everywhere I went, every person I met, every life I lived.

Fear. Hate. Jealousy. Disdain.

Those were the feelings I could expect, even from my own kind. They weren’t entirely unwarranted since my journey had started with a thirst for revenge and destruction, but it had been centuries since I actually killed a witch without being provoked first. I even tried to help them so many times—shared my knowledge, my powers, my experience—but I always ended up being called the same.

The Villain. The Soulless. The Abomination. The Monster.

This…this was nothing in comparison to what I had been through. Yet, somehow, it hurt even more as I watched the awe in the children’s eyes turn into fear. An unending circle that I couldn’t break, no matter how hard I tried.

So why bother? If they were so determined to fear and hate, then that was fine with me. I wasn’t going to refuse what they offered willingly.

Forcing a smirk on my face, I crouched in front of the girls, looking at each of them. I raised my finger to my lips and gave them a sign to be quiet, then pointed at the door leading to the back room. They glanced at their grandmother and she must have nodded, because they ran off, their heavy steps fading as they hid somewhere.

I slipped out the folded paper where I had written down everything I needed before we left the house. The old witch took it with shaky hands, her eyes running over the list.

“I’ll get those for you.” She nodded, heading toward the counter where she pulled a large bag and several containers. She worked quietly, going from shelf to shelf and gathering the herbs before storing them safely in the bag.

“You don’t have to give me all,” I said while I studied the rest of her stock. She had so many things—some even I didn’t know the use of—that I could barely keep my hands off of them. “I’ll be back.” She let out a small sound that could have been of surprise, just as well as horror. “They are both witches, you know. Your granddaughters.”

The old witch stopped, and this time, I turned to look at her over my shoulder. She seemed surprised, but a little proud, too. Girls didn’t usually come into their powers until they were five or six, and, sometimes, they never did. Many of the witches’ offspring ended up human, like their fathers, but every once in a while a witchling would be born. And to have two in her bloodline…she was quite lucky.

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