Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy), page 20
“But you have no piercings,” she said softly.
Keeping my eyes fixed upon the ceiling, I didn’t dare look at her. To look into her eyes was to see that moment again in all its horror. A battlefield covered by the dead, and in the midst of it all…
“I ripped them out,” I said. “When I found them dead, I ripped out the metal they’d given me. I couldn’t live with the reminder.” But I still had them: the jewelry, the bloodied piercings. I’d carried them with me through all these centuries, hoarding them like a dragon’s precious treasure. “That was where I saw you, Everly, in the morning after that last battle. I’d survived, but I felt dead. You called my name.”
Still, centuries later, I didn’t fully understand it. Demons had never been known to receive visions of the future. We were not blessed with gifts of premonition, as some witches were. Yet I’d seen her, I’d heard her, as clear as day.
“What did I…what did the vision say to you?” she said.
“You told me your name and begged for my help.”
She sat beside me. The blanket was still draped around her shoulders, but I longed for her skin-to-skin contact to return. Reaching out, I wrapped my arm around her waist so I wouldn’t have to go without her touch.
“What kind of help?” she said, picking at her cuticles instead of looking at me. I noticed the redness around her nails; how abused the skin was.
It had been so long, but every word she’d said to me was seared into my brain.
“You said I had to keep fighting. And that you would find me.”
Her frown deepened, and I grasped her hand. Her fingers curled toward her palm, like a frightened reptile retreating into its shell.
“And what was it about me that made you so determined to help that you searched for me? For centuries…” She shook her head, scoffing as if she didn’t believe it, even now.
“It was not merely that one vision that convinced me,” I said. “The day I saw you was the day I lost everything I had left. Almost all of those I loved were dead. The demon I’d been, who could pass his days with frivolous parties, who sought nothing more than pleasure and power, was destroyed. No, I wasn’t convinced immediately. But I swear, you haunted me. Everywhere I turned, I would see your face. In crowds, in dark corners, whether I was in Hell or on Earth. Fate had thrown me a lifeline that I’d refused to grasp, and it wouldn’t stop reminding me of it. I needed a purpose; I needed a reason to live. You gave me that. What else did I have to go on for?”
Her eyes were filled with flickering firelight. She brushed a few loose strands of hair away from my face, leaving her hand there against my cheek for a moment.
“I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” I said, and she looked stricken. But it was true; she was only afraid of offending me. “Give me time, my lady. This is all I have. You are all I have. I know that may scare you.” Her eyes flickered around my face, searching it. “But I’ve fought this war for two thousand years, waiting for my commander. If I am ever meant to see peace again, it will be through you. If anyone can bring this war to its end…”
“Me,” she whispered. Such a simple word, full of so much fear, drenched in disbelief. “You really think I can…” She shook her head, laughing softly. “You think I can kill a God?”
Taking her wrist, I caressed my fingers over the mottled bruises and the swollen wounds from where the cuffs had bit into her. “The manacles you wore have been used for hundreds of years to completely and totally render witches unable to use their magic. Not only did you continue to use magic in a myriad of ways while wearing them, but you laid waste to an entire pack of beasts. You burned an acre of forest to a crisp, in just a few mere seconds.” Bringing her wrists close to me, I kissed her bruises. “You are far more powerful than you have ever been allowed to believe.”
24
Everly
For the entire next day and following night, I slept. Fitful dreams filled my sleep, visions of fire, memories of pain.
In the brief moments I would wake, Callum was standing over me. Sometimes close, right at my bedside. Sometimes in a chair near the fire or standing by the window gazing out at the rain. But he was always near, and his presence gave me comfort.
Despite the Deep One’s vicious efforts, my soul was no longer destined for Its merciless eternity. With just a few words and the cuts from Callum’s knife, my fate had changed entirely.
I belonged to him, and my soul was destined for Hell.
Slowly, I sat up, feeling like a corpse rising from the grave. Pale sunlight streamed in the open windows. My grandmother’s radio was set on the table near the fireplace, and it crackled with her voice.
“It’s good to see you awake at last,” she said. “Callum has gone out to the garden to fetch a few herbs for me. I’m preparing a tincture that will help those scars heal cleanly.”
Immediately, my hand clutched at my stomach. I’d been dressed in clean clothes, made of soft loose linen. But beneath the cloth, my skin was tender. Holding my breath to brace myself, I lifted my shirt and peered down. Elaborate lines and circles covered my stomach, surrounding Callum’s familiar sigil carved over my navel.
Abruptly, I lowered my shirt and hugged my arms around myself. My grandmother tsked softly, and I felt the sensation of a hand rubbing my shoulders.
“Oh, my dear, do not be afraid,” she said. “Many people throughout history, witches or not, have given their souls to a demon. An afterlife in Hell is not the terror you’ve been led to believe. It is an entirely new world; you will not be abused there. Some witches visit Hell even before their deaths. I’ve heard it’s a fascinating place.”
“Have you been there?” I said, desperately eager for her reassurance. So much of my life felt beyond my control; I was stuck on a rollercoaster with no brakes, unable to see the twists and turns of the track ahead.
“I have not. But your ancestor, our Grand Mistress Sybil, traveled there many times.”
The reminder of Sybil made me groan. “The grimoire. I lost the grimoire, Grams, I —” I sighed, thinking suddenly of naive Raelynn carrying that book around. “But I know where it is.”
“Then you haven’t truly lost it, have you?” she said, keeping her voice fiercely upbeat. “You’ve been through enough in these past few days. You need your rest, and a bath by the look of your hair. When you’ve healed, you will try again. As long as you’re alive, we have not failed.” There was a soft sound, like the shifting of dry grass. “Callum has returned. I’ll leave you to rest, but I’m sure he’ll be up to check on you soon.”
Before she could go, I said suddenly, “There was another demon here, wasn’t there? Callum was angry…” The memories were so vague, but I was certain I’d seen another demon, with massive feathered wings, standing over me as I writhed in pain.
My grandmother’s voice was grim as she said, “We were visited by one of Hell’s oldest and most powerful demons, Lucifer. He demanded Callum claim your soul, and Callum tried to refuse — until he had no other choice.”
A thousand questions fought for attention in my mind. “Why would another demon care what happens to my soul?”
“You’re powerful, Everly. And Hell craves power. The dedication of your soul to Hell helps to ensure the ongoing security and longevity of that world.” It seemed as if there was something more she wanted to explain, but instead said abruptly, “I’ll prepare the tincture for you. You’ll find clean clothes in the wardrobe.”
With a final crackle of static, she left the room.
Despite my clean clothes, the rest of me was still filthy. The wounds on my wrists had been cleaned and bandaged, but my hair was clumped with dirt and tangles, my skin spotted with mud. My body ached as I got out of bed, stretching my stiff arms and legs. To my surprise, despite being drowsy and sore, I felt far stronger than I expected.
Far stronger than I had felt before.
I drew a bath, filling the large porcelain tub with water that smelled faintly of cedarwood. Steam surrounded me as I stepped into the bath, sinking into the water with a groan. Carefully, I unwrapped the bandages from my wrists, allowing the wounds a bit of fresh air. The bruising was extensive, but the tears in my skin had already healed.
After scrubbing myself clean, I drained the tub and filled it again with fresh water, closing my eyes as I soaked. But it wasn’t long before a strange feeling made me open them again.
It was the sensation of being watched, but not by the God. Frowning, I looked all around the room, searching for the source of my unease. The large window beside the tub looked out upon a gray rainy day, and as I peered down into the yard, I spotted a figure standing beneath the trees.
They were shrouded in a red cloak, standing out starkly amid the dark greenery. They were tall, easily as tall as Callum, and instead of a face…
It was the skull of a horse.
A chill went up my back as I stared into those empty eye sockets. The being didn’t move, but I knew with absolute certainty they were watching me.
The bathroom door quietly swung open, the subtle click of claws on the tile announcing Callum’s arrival. He was already standing in the room when he knocked, drawing my attention away from the window.
“Someone is out there,” I said.
The demon didn’t seem alarmed as he nodded. “I know. He is one of the fae; Darragh told me he was coming. It’s been a very long time since magic like yours has been unleashed in their forest. You’ve caught their attention, my lady. The fae are curious creatures, but cautious too. It is the duty of the Old Man to ensure you don’t mean his kind any harm.”
“Old Man?” I jerked my head toward the window again, but the horse skull had vanished. Rising halfway from the bath in alarm, I pressed my face closer to the window, looking all over the garden for him.
But the haunting figure was gone.
“That’s what Darragh calls him,” Callum said. “I suppose he has other names, too. But demons don’t fuck with fae. We certainly don’t seek out their names. It’s bad form.”
Frowning, I sank back into the water. “There’s so much I don’t know. The fae. Heaven and Hell. The gods. I feel lost.” It frustrated me to be so naïve, so ignorant.
“A hunger for knowledge can be more valuable than knowledge itself. People take what they know for granted.”
I turned away from the window and faced him. The night he rescued me, flying me here through the dark, through the rain, I’d seen a different side to him. Something beyond the feral monster who pursued me like a ravenous wolf, who could shake the stone walls with his voice.
That night, he’d been afraid. Afraid for me. Even in the depths of my pain, I’d felt the way he held me. As if he was prepared to fight death itself to keep it from taking me.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve claimed a human soul?” The moment my words emerged as a question, I felt like a fool and shook my head. “Of course it isn’t. You’ve been alive hundreds of years…thousands…”
The silence stretched. It grew thick, heavy with tension.
“It’s been a very long time since I claimed a soul,” he finally said. The words were slow and careful, and he looked away as he spoke. “Claiming a soul binds that life to yours. Over time, and with distance, that bond can fade, but it can also grow stronger. I’ve claimed more human souls than I can count. More names than I could ever remember. But there was once a time when such bonds didn’t terrify me. That was very long ago.”
In that haze of pain and exhaustion, I’d heard the arguments. The shadowy figure — Lucifer — demanding my soul be claimed. Callum’s voice breaking when he realized it was his only choice to save me.
“Did it terrify you? Claiming me?” Callum’s head snapped toward me at my question, and I flinched.
“Yes,” he said, after a long pause.
“Then why did you do it?”
His expression fractured, and I felt it. A pang of uncertainty shot through my chest like a bolt. Then came the rolling wave of fear, a ripping terror that could hardly be encompassed by words, so shockingly intense I gasped.
The feelings left me as suddenly as they appeared, and Callum said, “That’s part of it…the emotions. For most humans, it would merely be a hint of my feelings, but your magic amplifies it. What I feel may bleed over to you and vice versa.”
He still hadn’t answered, but it was clearly on his mind. He looked as if he were trying to solve a puzzle, and his frown didn’t dissipate until he met my eyes again.
In the blink of an eye, he was standing over me, with his hands braced against the edge of the tub.
My eyes drifted over him with appreciation. The lean muscles, tight with anticipation. The hard set of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes. My brain turned to mush every time I saw that taut, lickable chest…
Lickable? Oh, God, Everly, get yourself together, girl.
“I have no reason to live without you,” he said, his sharp teeth clenched. “Perhaps what I’ve done was incredibly selfish, but I would save your life again. I swore to protect you, and now, I’m bound by the demands of our bargain to do so. No matter what it takes. No matter what I must sacrifice. No matter who I must kill. For you, I would burn this world and the next.”
His words snatched the air from my lungs. It was impossible to disbelieve the sincerity in his voice, the viciousness. His hands tightened on the edges of the tub, and I jumped when a crack appeared on the porcelain edge. He winced, standing up slowly as he clenched and unclenched his fingers.
“Whether you choose to stay in this house, or leave, I will follow you,” he said. “If you choose to face the God, or don’t, I will be by your side. Whether or not you can find it in yourself to trust me, I will not leave you. This obsession might mean the death of me, but that is an end I will meet gladly. Humans have their deities, their great and powerful gods, guiding them to live and die. I have you.”
Words were completely lost to me. I could only stare at him, this powerful being who seemed so much larger than life, who vibrated with a deep and ancient energy. My demon. My protector.
From within the pocket of his trousers, Callum withdrew a corked glass vial, filled with honey-colored liquid. “Your grandmother prepared this. She said it should be applied to your wounds, to help them heal. If you would allow me.”
Nodding, I stepped out of the bath. Black eyes seared my skin as I reached for a towel and dried myself, squeezing the water from my hair. The way he looked at me caused heat to pool in my abdomen.
Glimpsing myself in the large, framed mirror leaning against the wall beside the tub, I paused. I tried not to pay too much attention to my looks. I’d never had Victoria’s grace or seemingly effortless beauty. I didn’t have much skill with makeup, and honestly didn’t like wearing it. I’d always been plain; painfully average. Too tall and too skinny, as Meredith frequently pointed out to me. Jeremiah used to say I looked like a giraffe, and that insult still lived on my hunched shoulders, as if I could make myself smaller.
Now, with scars on my body and bruises on my arms, I didn’t know how Callum could look at me like that. When he looked like a Greek statue brought to life, not even his scars could diminish his looks.
Biting my lip, I turned away from my reflection. That mirror would have to go, so I wouldn’t have to see myself every damn time I came in here.
Callum stepped closer behind me, taking the towel and tossing it aside. He wrapped his arms around me and I fought the urge to hide my face.
“Why do you look at yourself with disdain?” he said, his tone truly confused. “As if any part of you is shameful. As if this beautiful body wasn’t perfectly designed to appeal to every single one of my senses. This soft skin, tender and warm.” His lips brushed against my ear, while his claws caressed up my arm. “The sound of your voice, sweet as a siren. The sight of you is enough to make me a beast with need. And the smell of you…” He gripped me tightly, sinking with me to his knees on the thick rug in front of the mirror. As I knelt before him, he leaned close over my back. “Intoxicating. The taste of you?” His forked tongue stroked along my neck, his eyes closing for a moment. “Divine.”
He uncorked the bottle of golden liquid and poured some of it over his fingers. His hands moved slowly over my abdomen, working the oil over the scabbed cuts. It was a firm touch, but gentle enough not to hurt my wounds.
“These scars are our bond,” he said. He watched me in the mirror, fascination softening his dark eyes. “They tell the story of your survival. They’re the regalia of a warrior.”
It was impossible to tear my eyes away from the sight of his hands caressing my skin. His movements were so slow, so reverent.
“Gorgeous, every inch of you,” he murmured. “I adore the way you react to me, the sounds you make, the way you feel. So soft and yet so strong.”
His words filled me with a warm feeling, and I squirmed, unable to bear looking in the mirror a moment longer. But he immediately reached up, grabbing my face and pulling my gaze back.
“Don’t look away,” he said. “You’re exquisite.”
He dipped his fingers into the oil again, then lifted his hand, allowing it to drip over my chest. Shining droplets streaked over my breasts, and his fingers chased them, grasping me and squeezing. This gentle appreciation, the tenderness of his hold, was so unfamiliar to me it was overwhelming.
He hummed gently, his body rocking against mine. His hard length pressed against my back, tenting his trousers. I longed for the brutal ache of him inside me, demolishing every thought until nothing was left but pleasure.
“Relax,” he said. “You’re safe with me.”
He massaged me, moving from my stomach to my breasts, then my shoulders, my back. I was jelly in his hands, nearly limp as he moved me.
