“Oh. I think you’ve actually killed her.”
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt her!” I’m oddly comforted by the sound of pain in his voice.
“Oh, poor lady. Wait, ‘til the master hears of this,” there was a tinge of excitement in this voice.
Who are these men?
“She hit me!”
That’s the wolf. No questions asked though he sounds more like a child about to get a whooping than a menacing wolf.
“Well, of course, you idiot,” there was an annoyed sigh “You broke into her house and appeared as a wild dog, only to go chasing her into the woods. You literally scared her to death. I hope you’re happy. Now, she’s dead.”
Dead? Who is dead?
“I… You don’t think she’s actually dead, do you? I mean... I didn’t really kill her. That shouldn’t count,” his deep voice now trembled. Whoever they killed must be very important for this powerful man to be so terrified.
“Her body has been cold for 24 hours. She should have come back by now unless you’ve actually killed her for good.”
Are they… are they talking about me?
“The master will have your head then, although you won’t die. We all know this. But I’m pretty sure he’ll take his sweet time to make you feel every shred of the pain.” The man doing the taunting seemed to be having the time of his life. I had no idea who or what he was, but I can safely strike empathy from my list.
As I tried to move something…anything, I found myself wondering if perhaps the voices belonged to sleep paralysis demons.
“Oh!” The seemingly unbothered man sounded genuinely surprised this time. There was some buzzing sound somewhere in the background. A cold touch on my neck had awakened some of my senses.
“Look…Her vital signs are going up again,” on my left, I could hear just the faintest sound of disappointment in his voice. I made a mental note to stay far away from whoever that was. To my left was a sigh of relief followed by the screeching sound of a chair.
“It’s alive!” Relief had given way to amusement, and I couldn’t help but think that I knew this voice from somewhere.
“Really, Bran?” I could hear mocking judgment in his tone, but I didn’t care. Did he just say, Bran? Bran as in Mr Dazzling Canines Bran?! The Bran I met at the ball?
Is he a werewolf? Why the hell was he chasing me?
I tried to move my hands, but the effort only twitched some fingers.
“Look, Dain. The lady is starting to move.” At least someone was happy to have me alive.
“We better tell the master.”
“Do you have a death wish? If he finds out how she’s only coming back to life now, he’ll know that she died.”
Did I really die? How am I not dead then?
“Guess how that’ll go? He’ll chop your head off with a guillotine down in the basement to roll to who knows where leaving your body as a headless hairy canine lump who knows how long.”
The horrid thought sent a shiver down my spine.
How could he speak so casually about the idea of a person’s beheading?
“It’ll be in your best interest to shut that foul-smelling mouth of yours until she recovers fully,” Bran growled.
“We can’t hide this from the master. He will eventually know.”
“Oh, he will know, alright. There’s no deceiving the father of lies. All we need to do is at least stall time,” Bran sounded unbothered by this fact.
Maybe I had gotten it all wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t the wolf. Not that any of this was starting to make sense. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on moving. I could hear feet plodding across the ground, and I strained to follow the sound only to realise that it was getting closer to me. Had I not been paralysed, I would have jumped when the hand fell on my shoulder, and someone leaned in to whisper into my ears, “Wake up, Liliwen.”
When my stubborn eyelids finally fluttered open, I felt like a thousand needles were being sunk into my eyes from the brilliant light overhead. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a chandelier above me dancing with shimmering crystals. My eyes wandered around what looked like a rather lavish bedroom. There was a red velvet curtain hanging by the window, blowing in the soft, gentle breeze. There’s an enormous, elegant mahogany closet to the left of the vanity mirror cabinet sitting just across the bed. The silence of the room was deafening. It was only broken by the beeping and buzzing coming from the medical monitoring machine and IV stand beside me. I became aware that underneath the thick white fleece blanket, I was completely naked.
Umm…why am I naked?
If I hadn’t imagined it all, it had only been a few hours since Bran and Dain left the room. Alone wasn’t precisely what I wanted to be. I needed answers and lots of them.
I tried to speak, but my lips were parched despite the IV in my veins.
I could hardly remember what happened to me in the moments before I blacked out, but from what I heard in the duo’s conversations I had fallen to my death …
And come back to life?
I highly doubt that.
There was still a hollowness in my memories. I suddenly remembered Liliwen from the nightmare. It must have something to do with her tampering with my brain.
I tried to find a clock somewhere. I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been out for. Ryia was probably worried sick. Although it would all be a pretence, the White Witch Ryia would simply pretend to worry. I know nothing of this upgraded Arcane!
I knew there had to be a reason behind her actions, and I wouldn’t rest until I got to the bottom of it. I still have love for the woman I have known to be my sister, even if it turned out that our relationship is false.
What do I do now?
When I woke up this morning, I realised that I didn’t know my age and now apparently I’m what? Undead? Immortal? What am I? Who am I?
I threw the question out into the void, and the response startled me.
“You’re someone special.”
A tall man in a bluish-grey turtleneck sweater appeared at the end of the bed. He was lean, massive and insanely attractive despite his age. When I stared into his azure eyes, I felt a powerful connection ignite on recognition of who he was. I can see his full face now, but those eyes are all I need. I’m sure it’s him. His lips pulled into a crescent smile as he greeted me,
“It’s been a while, Liliwen.”
It didn’t seem fair that everyone seemed to know who I was, while I remained a blank slate.
Is this the effect of what my sister did to me?
“Perhaps,” he spoke as if answering the question in my mind directly.
He sauntered to the bedside and sat a few inches away from my hand.
Under his gaze, I felt utterly transparent. It was as though he could see right through me. I felt helpless beside him.
Who is this person?
“Would you really like to know?” My eyes grew wide. He can read my mind. The first time may have been a coincidence, but this was definitely not. I don’t recall meeting a mind reader before.
A soft chuckle left his lips, “I’m not what you think I am. Though I can certainly understand why you’d think that…especially since you haven’t said a word since I’ve entered the room, yet here we are… having our own private conversation.”
Who are you then?
I tried to summon my voice, but it’s stuck to the back of my throat. My heart raced as he leaned down towards me with his nose just a few centimetres above mine. His lips were almost touching mine and a teasing grin formed on his flawless face.
“I’ll tell you who I am.”
He snapped his finger, and time stood still.
The grandfather clock is over one hundred years old.
Oh, my days! My mind screamed with realisation, and he pulled me back to the present… to the crackling tension between us. To the chattering of my teeth and the nervousness in the pit of my stomach. His lips grazed my ear, and I felt something run down my spine.
“I am your...”
Darkness.
When the light returns, the room is empty, and I’m once again, all alone.
ARCANE WITCH’S POWERS
WITCH’S CURSED CIRCLE SERIES – BOOK 2
EVELYN COOPER
Chapter 1
Instigator
The peace of the morning felt unfair.
I can hear the birds chirping as they flap their wings around the old apple tree standing in the mansion’s backyard.
The lush blue rose garden just a little distance away from the ragged tree had been the only distracting thing as I sat by the enormous window of the bedroom. I took the liberty of tying back the thick red velvet curtains, setting them aside to give me a view of the outside.
I wish the wind could sweep me clean of the void that has been filling my chest since I woke up, haunted by the memories of yesterday. I still am not sure what counts as memories in a brain manipulated by magic, but whatever my thoughts were, they were dark and heavy.
The sun is at its highest, shining brightly, bathing the forest behind the Penrhyn Mansion with its light.
I suppose my little forest fire was just a joke to you, huh?
And what about the part of me falling to my death?
Apparently, that wasn’t the first time I got a cheek-to-cheek greeting with the grim reaper.
My brain screamed all night loudly, recalling things that were either memories or dreams, but I was willing to wager that these were parts of my memories that were supposedly erased.
Or perhaps this is another result of the alteration in my brain?
Whatever.
If what I am recalling is authentic, that means I had drowned once before, after I fell from another cliff years ago. I had also been stabbed by a person whose face I couldn’t see. There were other scenes, each ending in my horrible death.
But somehow… here you are… still very useless and very much alive
I close my eyes as I try to sort things out in my mind. It has been in utter chaos ever since I uncovered the lies.
My supposed sister, Ryia, had been doing a yearly ritual of erasing my memories as a thoughtful present for my birthday. She had also apparently been changing her occupation every time as a way to shed off her skin like a snake. She had all the freedom to design my life as she saw fit while I didn’t even have the liberty to retain any of my memories.
I turned to look at the grand queen-sized bed on my right, remembering what it looked like a few days ago surrounded by medical equipment that was trying to do what exactly? Save my life? Bring me back to life? I don’t even know.
My hands felt unreal as I stare at them.
I can no longer tell what is real and which is not, and I bloody hate it!
No one has bothered to clear things up with me either; I have had no explanation of what is happening within all this madness.
Bran had visited me an hour ago with a breakfast tray and a clean set of clothes to wear. Then, of course, he left without saying a word, just leaving with a mysterious smile plastered on his beautiful pale face.
I wanted to ask him about all of the questions swimming about in my head, but I was too worried about the blanket leaving my bare body if I tried to get up from the mattress so, like a prude, I just chose to stay silent under the covers until he went away.
But even if it was a proper situation to ask him, where would I even start. Does he even know what’s going on with me? What is the truth?
For all I know, he just happened to encounter my dead body and brought me back to their mansion in his goodwill.
I seriously doubt the goodwill part, but I like to think it was still a possibility. Bran may have thought it was the best course of action to pick me up as battered, broken, and bloody and bent as I must have been lying there lifeless at the foot of the cliff.
A loud knock at the door ran through the room and set off palpitations in my chest.
Despite being unable to answer, the visitor had freely let him or herself in nevertheless.
It was Bran wearing a casual blue shirt paired with jeans, and he had a seemingly surprised look on his face.
“I didn’t think you’d actually be up,” he closed the door behind him quietly and began to amble in my direction, seeming quite at ease with himself and unphased by my current state.
He put his hands in his pockets as his eyes turned to the food tray he brought earlier.
“Were you hoping someone would spoon-feed you if you chose not to eat the food I brought you?” he cocked an eyebrow at me with an amused grin.
I didn’t have the appetite to eat.
I could’ve answered, but I felt ashamed thinking about how ungrateful I am being for their effort to provide me with food, despite the fact they didn’t need to.
On ordinary occasions, I could’ve devoured Eggs Benedict without second thoughts. But my will to even breathe is at an all-time low.
“Ah, I see what it is,” his small curled bangs bounced as he nodded to himself. “Your digestive system might still be in turmoil. It might take months before you can eat again.”
I really do hope he’s joking.
He opened the lid of the tray and took the cold black coffee and sipped it casually, stating aloud…..
“Ah. I swear Zoren knows how to choose the best coffee beans.”
He gave me a smile just before he took the large duet seat with his free hand and placed it in front of me as if it weighed nothing. As he settled comfortably, pure amusement spread on his face.
“So, how are you faring, dear lady?”
How am I supposed to tell him about the turmoil inside that has been bothering me long before I got chased by his friend Dain who, by the way, owes me one hell of an explanation?
I tried to collect any semblance of order in my thoughts and begin to ask the questions I’ve wanted answering.
“What happened?”
“Oh, come on,” the amusement in his face was replaced with exasperation, “couldn’t you come up with a non-cliché question? I’m pretty sure you’ve got tons you want to ask.”
He took another sip of the cold caffeine from the off-white mug while he waits for me to ask a question worth asking.
Fine.
I sat upright and stared him in the face, “Did I really die?’
“Yes, you did. Next question?” he took another sip like he couldn’t get enough of the mug’s content.
“Why am I alive then...or seem alive at least.”
He let out a small chuckle.
“Oh, you’re very much alive. You’re breathing normally; your heart is beating, and more importantly...” Bran stared at my body–or at least through my body–with a kind of desire that had my heart racing, “your blood flow is as normal as it can be under the circumstances.”
I could’ve sworn the hair on my skin stood up after seeing how his eyes bore into me like a predator looking at his prey. It was a brief moment, but it still made me uneasy. It wasn’t the feeling of being lusted over. It was more of a feeling like prey to an animal.
Again, he gave me a cryptic smile just before he took another sip.
My hands unconsciously held my arms in protection.
He seemed to catch my reaction to his gaze, “I apologise if I seem to be a scary person, but believe me, I’m nothing more than a bachelor who enjoys the visible tells of a person visited by fear.”
As if that would give me any peace of mind...
I tried to croak out another question to shift the uncomfortable air between us.
“Who exactly are you?”
He’s looking at me in seriousness, and then he put the mug down on the coffee table between us.
“I am the instigator.”
My forehead pulled into a crease.
“Instigator? Instigator of what?”
The cunning grin found its way back to his pink lips.
“Everything. The ball, the performance, the ritual.”
“Wait. You said
that was some sort of coronation ceremony!” I protested
Even though I was half-celebrating with the fact that what little witch instinct I had about that night was right all along.
“Oh, did I?” He grinned, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.
“What have you done? What was the ritual for?”
“I simply did what I was told to do. And it worked. Don’t you know the truth now?” He retook the mug.
“Truth? What truth?”
Although my mind told me what he is talking about, I still wanted confirmation from him, especially now that I couldn’t even trust my own thoughts.
He heaved a deep sigh then crossed his legs while leaning back to the comfort of the red couch.
“Oh, my. Answering questions is quite tiring. How about I ask them instead? Maybe you know the answers better than I do.”
There was nothing I wanted to do more at that moment than to wipe the smile off his face in my frustration. His way of toying with me is starting to get on my nerves.
But the question he threw my way had me frozen.
“How old are you today?”
Even though the question would generally sound rude to a lady, I felt that the question was necessary to get to the direction that will clear things up.
He’s right. Going along with it might help me get the answers I need.
So, I asked myself the same question.
How old am I supposed to be today considering Ryia had been making me think I’m still twenty-five?
I answered the most available information I have right now. “Twenty-six. I might be twenty-six today.”
The uncertainty in my voice didn’t surprise Bran in any way. Yet, he asked, “Might? It seems that you’re not sure about that.”
“I’ve always believed I was twenty-five years of age all these years,” I know this would brew another question that will lead to another. But, it was all the explanation I could give to him.
“Until five days ago,” his eyes narrowed in a calculative way as he said the words that would complete my sentence.
I suppose no questions need to be asked then. This doesn’t seem like news to him. As a matter of fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looked like he expected it.
Witch's Cursed Circle Complete Collection Page 4