I half expect a wave of magic to pull me back into the cabin, but nothing comes. I race out into the forest. The farther I run through the trees, the more I’m convinced the area is safe enough for Broin to let me go. Or maybe he’s just in too much shock to stop me. If so, I should feel ashamed about taking advantage of him, but I don’t. I really want—
—need—
—to see my family.
I need to see their bodies with my own eyes.
After that, I’m going to hunt every last member of the Rosso Lupa Pack and destroy them. I’ll skin them alive and wear their fur as coats. I’ll make them regret taking my loved ones away from me.
I give a hasty glance over my shoulder to make sure no one’s following me. I can’t hear or see anyone. The only sounds are my black flats pounding against the earth and my ragged breaths cleaving through my mouth. Suddenly my exhaustion no longer exists as I run toward the fire.
When I reach our home, the entire building is engulfed in flames. Wisps of ash carry on the breeze and a thick trail of black smoke streams into the starry sky. The only part of the land that hasn’t been destroyed by the fire is the ash tree beside our house.
As I step onto the path and slowly make my way over, I realize why.
I press my hands to my mouth and suppress the screams, but the sobs claw out in a vicious crescendo that shatters everything inside me. Why? Why did they do this to them? I choke on another strangled sob and my body seizes up with grief.
My frail little grandma, still wearing her fluffy pink dressing gown, hangs from the tree with a noose tied cruelly around her neck. My beautiful twin sways beside her, though her mouth and eyes are wide open. She’s looking right at me.
Strong arms envelop me in a tight embrace. My screams wail into a warm chest, strangled by a fabric that smells of firewood and whiskey. I try to hold on to Broin’s shoulders, to attest that I’m not dreaming, that this really isn’t a nightmare, but my body liquefies within his arms. He rocks me from side to side as though I’m a desolate child and despite the wails wracking my body, I can feel his erratic heartbeat pounding against my ear.
“I’m here, Little Red… I’ve got you.”
His words of comfort only increase my sobs.
My entire body shudders with them as he runs a hand through my hair, down my back, caressing me, whispering words that I no longer seem to understand.
My vision is blurred, my limbs like mush in his arms. I close my eyes, but all I see are my loved ones hanging from the tree.
I was the one who put them there. They were hanged because of my selfishness.
More wails tear out from me. I’ve never cried like this before. Hemlocks are strong and unyielding. We aren’t supposed to show signs of weakness; our clan forbids it. Yet it seems that every emotion I’ve suppressed until now is rising to the surface and Broin tells me to let them out.
He also tells me that we should give our slain the farewell that they deserve.
I press my face once more into his damp chest, clench his shirt into my hands and nod.
With the fire raging around us, Broin prepares what little he can of the funeral. Our ceremonies are usually conducted by the High Priest of our coven, which in our case is Reverend Cassim Salvador. The ceremonies are attended by every member. There are rituals and protocols for everything. I know His Excellency will be livid to find out we did this ourselves, but to be honest, I can’t find it in me to care.
I just want to say goodbye.
And then I’m going to hunt those wolves down to the last cub.
I look away as Broin approaches the tree. I know I should help take them down, but I feel rooted to the spot, unable to move or even say anything. I’m afraid that if I do open my mouth, I’ll burst into tears again.
In the corner of my eye, I watch him hold their bodies and cut each of the nooses. The sound of his knife sawing through the rope is something I will never forget. He places their bodies gently on the ground. I struggle not to purge the contents of my stomach. They look so peaceful lying there. To think how they must have suffered…
At least the next part I definitely can’t help with. I’m not a witch anymore and my blood is useless to the Dark Lord. Broin sets their bodies on a dry patch of grass and unsheaths his blade. He engraves a reversed pentagram into the soil, followed by the head of a goat at the centre. Once the Dark Lord’s sigil has been completed, he cuts a cross into his palm and squeezes his magical blood around the entire circle. The explosion of emerald flames crackle with sinister energy. My hair stands on end and goosebumps break out over my skin as I hold my breath, watching as the flames devour their bodies.
Broin squeezes more blood into the fire; I can see his mouth moving, whispering the final farewell to our unholy departed. I’m glad he’s taken control of their funeral. It’s not just that I’m not able to do it without magic. I quite honestly don’t think I have it in me to do or say a single word right now.
As I watch the flames lick around their bodies, I vaguely remember that Redera hadn’t wanted a Satanic funeral. She’d wanted to be cremated privately and have her ashes spread around the ash tree.
Little had any one of us known she’d be hung from its branch like a pig left to bleed out in the slaughter.
The quiver in my throat catches my bottom lip. I’ll be with them again one day soon. To make sure of this, I stay until the last flame has all but died and our cottage has crumbled into rubble and ash.
When the smoke finally clears, I see that Grandma and Redera’s bodies are no longer there. Good. That means the ferryman has accepted them.
In Redera’s case, she’ll be escorted to the God of Light, since that’s who she worshipped in life. My grandma will be over the moon when she finally gets to meet her beloved Dark Lord. As for me? I’m left to spend the rest of my life knowing that I caused their deaths.
If only I had known the true consequences of leaving the Church of Shadows.
I would never have left.
I would never have gone to the altar.
I would never have asked the Dark Lord to free me.
Is this his way of punishing me for that?
But that doesn’t make any sense. There have been countless people who left our church without being reprimanded. And my grandfather, after the trial over Broin’s existence, left our clan with no issues. Our concealment spell wasn’t lifted then and the Witch Hunters never found us. So why now? Why here?
Unless it wasn’t Lucifer who punished me in the first place.
Could the God of Light have done this? I’m a Darkblood, after all. The sins I’ve committed in my eighteen years are plentiful. Mortals often talk about their False God and how he’s all about forgiveness and atonement. But if he never forgave Lucifer, his own creation, why would he forgive a spawn of Hell?
Maybe he wanted to teach me a lesson before considering my proclamation.
Maybe he wanted me to suffer from the get-go.
Is this what Lucifer meant about choosing the wrong path? He hadn’t been referring to abandoning his church. He’d been warning me not to trust his enemy.
An even deeper sorrow plunges into me. Somehow, I manage to pull myself off the ground. I brush off the leaves clinging to my arms and legs. My dress is covered in ash and slightly frayed from running through the woods. I regret the damage that’s been done to it.
“Little Red?” Broin whispers, and I jump, not aware he’s standing in front of me, waving his big hand. “I’m going to do a quick check to make sure it’s safe. You got your knife?”
I nod, unable to speak over the lump in my throat.
Broin shapeshifts into his raven and takes to the sky with a caw. I expect him to tell me to go back to the cabin, but our bond remains silent. I’m surprised that it’s still there despite my lack of magic. He probably wants to give me some space. Prying into my thoughts will be the last thing on his mind because he doesn’t want me to feel his pain.
The strangest thing of all? I
don’t have anything to say to my family. I could stand here all night and beg them for forgiveness but begging won’t avenge their deaths. All it will do is make me hate myself even more, when I don’t have time for that. I have a pack of wolves to kill.
A silver light winks in the corner of my eye. I tilt my head toward the trees, my heart racing at the thought of Witch Hunters. Broin would have warned me if there were more about, so that’s not what I’m seeing.
I creep a little closer.
White flash, then gone. Flash. Gone. Then I finally realize what I’m seeing.
A white rabbit scampers through the thick underbrush, its fur showing through the branches in momentary glimmers. Finally it hops out into the clearing, its little nose twitching anxiously. It turns and looks at me with ruby-red eyes.
The eyes tell me this is no ordinary rabbit. It’s a familiar.
What person sent their familiar to watch our cottage burn? Was it someone who wanted to pay their respects, or someone from a white coven who wanted to gloat? I want to grab a rock and throw it at the rabbit when it stops and looks at me again.
I find my voice, ragged from all of the hell-forsaken crying I’ve been doing. “What do you want?” I demand, my voice a harsh croak. “Get out of here or I’ll kill you!”
The rabbit doesn’t seem all that impressed. If anything, it’s somewhat miffed. Apparently it just thinks I’m rude. If I can’t even frighten a rabbit, how am I going to destroy a pack of wolves?
I need my magic back.
For some reason, I think I need to follow the rabbit. I take a cautious step, my right hand instinctively going to my blade. The rabbit scuttles back into the trees, leaving me alone in the clearing. The black smoke rising from the cottage still lingers in the air, and I need to get away from it. I can’t bear to smell it anymore.
The rabbit actually comes back and looks at me like it’s trying to understand what’s keeping me. It rubs its paws over its ears, then rubs its eyes. The smoke must be getting to it, too.
It looks up at me. —What you’re looking for isn’t here.—
The voice in my head is a girl’s, but I don’t recognize it. She speaks softly, sympathetically… but not patronizingly, which would really piss me off. Instead she sounds like a genuinely concerned friend.
“Who are you?”
—What you’re looking for is at Everafter. But you don’t belong there and your blood will run.—
Well fuck if that isn’t ominous.
I tilt my head at the rabbit. “What do you mean I don’t belong at that school? Who are you?”
The voice giggles, and she says, —You’ll see.—
And then the rabbit darts back into the forest, nothing more than a distant light swallowed up by the trees. I repeat what she said, trying to make sense of the words. What I’m looking for is at Everafter…?
How fortunate. That’s exactly where I’m going to go.
“Hey, come back here,” I call after the rabbit, following it gracelessly. I’m crashing through the bushes like a noisy human. Any normal rabbit would be scared shitless of me, but I see that this one has stopped. It’s waiting for me, watching me like it can’t believe what an oaf I am.
Same, rabbit. Same.
It leads me through the forest, speeding ahead then waiting for me, guiding me around trees and away from the cobbled paths that my family and some of the other witches in the wood have laid down. When it’s much too late to turn back, I realize that the little bastard has led me back to the Devil’s Altar.
For an ungrateful minute, I consider sacrificing the rabbit, just to see what will happen.
Then I realize that I’m not alone.
I catch the faintest whiff of sulfur and a hot wind blows through my hair. My skirt trembles against my legs like someone is shaking it and I feel off-balance. My head is swimmy again so I grab the altar to steady myself.
“Both hands, my dear.”
I whirl around, twisting my face into a venomous glare.
Lucifer is standing there in his beautiful form again.
I wanted to fuck him before. Now I want to fucking kill him.
Like that’s going to happen.
He looks at me with a mock frown. It’s just a mask to cover his gloating. My family is dead because he removed his protections. The Witch Hunters found them because he let them. Maybe it wasn’t Redera’s god. Maybe it was mine after all… or was it?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore!
I pull my hand off the altar and rub it against my thigh, trying to wipe away the contact.
Lucifer looks at me quizzically, one perfect eyebrow rising toward the curl that brushes his forehead. He adjusts the gold cloak around his naked body as if he has not a care in the world. “I thought perhaps you had reconsidered,” he states dryly. “I came to hear your apology.”
“You’ll have a long wait. You’re not getting an apology,” I spit out. My grandma would be horrified but I’m too angry and too hurt to be respectful, even of my former Dark Lord. “You’re not getting anything from me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I followed a rabbit…” I bite my tongue. I don’t know why I’m even answering him.
He chuckles. “A rabbit?”
“I was hungry.” The lie slips out before I can stop it.
“Ah. I see.” He clasps his hands behind his back and strolls around the altar. How can such a beautiful creature be so cruel inside? So full of deceit? “You know that lies sing to me.”
Fuck.
“You want your magic back, don’t you?”
I lift my chin, projecting more strength than I feel. “Not if it comes from you.”
“More lies.” He smiles. “Keep lying, my dear. Keep feeding me.”
Resisting the urge to attack the bastard, I stomp back toward the forest. The damn rabbit is still there, watching me. This time, I do lob a rock at it, and it blinks out of existence. I scream in frustration, and Lucifer laughs at me before disappearing, leaving me alone in the unholy clearing.
That stupid rabbit brought me here just so Lucifer could gloat. I’ve never heard of him working through familiars before, but there’s a first time for everything. Well, if he thinks I’m just going to come crawling back to him after this, he’s got another thing coming.
I will never beg him. I will never apologize.
I will never worship any god again.
Leaves rustle behind me, stirring the silence. A stronger whiff of sulfur burns through my nostrils. It seems to be coming from the Black Ravine. Grandma calls that area the forbidden zone because it was ruined by the war. It’s mostly just spiky rocks, caves, and dead vegetation.
I wonder if that’s where the wolves have been hiding all these years?
If they’re in the Ravine, I’m going to find them and slit their fucking throats for what they’ve done.
After many failed attempts, I manage to find my way to the Black Ravine. I climb over the boles of fallen trees and uneven rocky patches that seem determined to impede my progress. The trees are getting older and larger the closer I get to the ravine, and the stench of sulfur is stronger. Something unpleasant and unnatural is happening. I don’t need magic to tell me that. It’s like a rain cloud swelling in the sky, ready to pop any second.
The ground has a sloppy, wet patch just before the gorge falls away. The river that cut this channel through the bedrock is still running at the bottom and I can hear the water as it moves. That river is part of the boundary of Draoich, keeping the other kingdoms apart. I wonder what would happen if I tried to cross. Knowing my luck, I’d probably drown or get struck down by lightning. Wouldn’t that be a way to end this night? Struck down by the Storyteller.
I step on rocks to avoid the mud and as I do, I can see three very clear sets of boot tracks. Broin had said there were ten hunters, but I can only see three different tracks. They’re fresh, judging from the edges of the prints. The water hasn’t had time to soften them yet. T
he boot heels all have the image of a sunburst carved into them, leaving tell-tale marks where their wearers have walked.
Witch Hunters. I knew it!
The wolves are hunting in human form, which makes them easier to see and easier to catch up with. I follow the tracks, careful not to step into the soft earth myself. I manage to keep somewhat light on my feet, so at least that’s one thing that Lucifer didn’t manage to take from me completely.
I hate him. I’ll never worship him again.
The tracks lead to a sloping natural ramp that runs directly to the mouth of a tiny cave. There’s a fire burning in front of the rocky entrance; that’s where the sulfur smell is coming from. There’s a bundle of something in the flames, letting off putrid smoke. I’ve smelled that nasty combination of rotten eggs and manure before and it confirms what I already know. These are professional Witch Hunters who came armed with a ritual that’s designed to dull a witch’s senses. Any witches in the area that stinking cloud reaches will get woozy and sick and it makes it so much easier for the hunters to sneak up on us.
That’s what these assholes think, anyway.
Grandma used to dose us regularly with similar foul-smelling herbs, training us to keep our senses when the smoke rolled in. She was wise, so very wise, and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of my life without her and Redera. That gutted feeling returns, but I don’t have time for it now. The enemy is close.
I follow the tracks around the campfire and its noxious fumes, then toward another stand of old growth oak trees that shadow the Black Ravine. Then, at the foot of the largest tree, the tracks just… disappear. There’s no sign of them leading into the cave either. I’m sure I’m missing something, so I bend down to brush away some fallen leaves, just in case.
Big mistake.
Something hits me hard on the back and sends me sprawling.
My head slams into the tree, the bark ripping through my skin, and I feel a sudden pressure in my lower back. The pressure releases as abruptly as it came and I hear my dress ripping. Almost immediately I’m flooded with pain and I realize that I’ve been stabbed.
Once Upon A Wolf: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 1) Page 3