Page 4 of The Soulless Witch

He knew that place like the back of his hand. There was even a chance he knew exactly where she had died since he had been there when it happened. A small child, somehow spared in the massacre, a child whose hatred of witches started that same night.

I needed to get there first. I needed to get to her before any of them.

I couldn’t lose her again. Not after waiting this long.

Chapter 3

Isaac

Shelivedagain—thewomanwho destroyed my world, my heart, and my soul. I had watched those hunters tear her apart after she slaughtered my entire pack. Soaked in their blood and with their screams still echoing in my ears, I had witnessed the hunters kill her, wishing I was big enough, strong enough, brave enough to deal the fatal blow.

I hadn’t been back then, but I was now.

She lived again, and this time, it was me who was going to strike her dead.

So I kept running, my paws barely touching the ground as I made my way to the place I visited once a year to commemorate the people I lost. If what Regina said was true, I knew exactly where to find her, and when she emerged from hell, I was going to send her right back. I wouldn’t even allow her to beg for mercy or forgiveness—not that I expected to hear words of remorse coming out of a soulless witch’s mouth.

Buildings gave way to fields, then to trees. The spot where we held our monthly meetings, an old decrepit castle that was covered with faded graffiti from the outside, and shielded by metal bars from the inside, was in the neutral zone—a place controlled by all and none, where meetings could be held and grudges needed to be left out. That’s what the accords between our kinds had dictated for the last hundred years. If one were to strike a member of another race within the neutral zone, they turned into a fair game, with no threat of retribution to anyone who went after them. Few had made the mistake of breaking the accords in such a stupid way and lived to tell about it. But as much as I tried to rattle that bloodsucker, he never reacted, not even a hint of violence in him, like it wasn’t in his nature to suck the life out of people.

I shook my head, letting my senses take over.

I had her scent, even if it was a faded memory. I could find her again. But as I ran, it wasn’t her sickeningly sweet smell that made me slow down. It wastheirs.

Humans, and lots of them, their unique scents laced with wolfsbane, silver, and magic. They snuck through the trees with impressive stealth, bearing not a flicker of light, even when the branches above grew so thick that the moonlight couldn’t penetrate. A few of them whispered words that might have been activation spells, but the wind changed direction, swallowing the voices and blowing my scent toward them instead.

A bird’s cry carried through the dark forest, and I knew I had been spotted even before the first one attacked. The hunter was stealthy, but he wasn’t a born predator. I jumped out of the rifle’s aim, the bullet—no doubt a silver one—splintering the bark of the tree behind me. I was upon the human in a heartbeat, tearing his neck open before he pulled out the dagger he was reaching for.

I ran again. I had no quarrel with the hunters tonight, but they weren’t getting my prey. I wanted to see the life drain from her eyes. I wanted her in pain, desperate, and afraid. I wanted her to suffer. Nothing else mattered.

Something grazed my shoulder, and pain exploded from the wound, making me growl. I spotted the shooter instantly, veering out of my path with several wide jumps. Zigzagging between the trees stopped another shooter from taking proper aim, but before I had the chance to pounce on him, he waved with his hand—no, not waved, he tossed something—and the air filled with a new smell, promptly carried by the wind.

I barely got a whiff of it before I ran in the opposite direction—I had had my fair share of dealings with hunters over the years to recognize their concoctions. Especially when it contained wolfsbaneandpowdered silver. If I had inhaled that, I would be coughing blood by now.

‘Get the witch. Nothing else matters!’I reminded myself.

I ran on when another scent hit me—of something cold, old, and vile.

There was only one creature that had such a despicable smell.

How did that bastard get here so fast? I had never met a vampire who could outrun me, and this was the fastest route to where I was going. But Roman what’s-his-name had been a pain in everyone’s ass even before this continent was discovered. He was probably stronger than our spies suggested and didn’t bother to show off, as most of his kind did. But what exactly did he want from that witch to make him run like he was a man in a desert and she was water?

Fuck that bloodsucker. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t getting it.

My eyes landed on one of the humans he left behind as I rushed past it—neck torn, blood spraying from the wound while the body convulsed. Then another and another followed, as if the vampire was purposely stopping to kill them. I didn’t care what he did to these hunters, considering what they did daily to my kind, but the viciousness in his kills, the total disregard in the way he laid their corpses like they were no more than blades of grass beneath his feet, it really pissed me off.

‘Get the witch. Kill her while he is distracted with the hunters,’I told myself as I willed my legs to move faster. I arrived at the clearing that was seared into my memory—the small, almost perfectly round space between the trees, where nothing had grown for the last eighty years. Nobody could stay near her grave for long since the latent magic of her blood was so potent that it corrupted the mind and drove people insane. Even in death, she still aimed to destroy.

A deep hole now gaped in the middle of the blackened earth, right where I had watched her take her last breath.

I whipped my head, sniffing the air in search of her. It was hard to find what I was looking for through the thick layer of blood, death, and magic, but I caught it—just a whiff of that distinctively sweet, earthy smell most witches had, but hers was laced with the heavy tinge of darkness and power.

I followed the scent, leaving behind the sounds of a monster ripping through flesh. Roman didn’t seem to care for my presence, although I couldn’t say the same. We were in werewolf territory now, even though no pack had claimed this land. If he was to attack me here, I had the right to strike him down.

‘The witch! Find the witch!’The tiny, insistent voice in my head snarled, and I was running again. I followed her scent between the trees, growing stronger but also older. Not just minutes. The scent was at least an hour old.

I paused at the break of the trees, staring at the dark road that meandered through them. The scent stopped there, then moved away from the forest, away from the grave. Toward the city.

I was too late.

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