Dark Witch, Blood Witch

by Lili Black

  “No, you’d be dead.” I give him a hard look. “You’re lucky Hattie died. If she knew you were that monster’s son, she would have gutted you already.”

  He takes the discussion of his death in stride. “When did she pass?”

  “Yesterday.” I look up at the sun. “No, two days ago? The day of the party.”

  “Oh, Evaine.” Pain fills his voice for the woman he never knew. “I’m so sorry. You came to the party for comfort, didn’t you? And, instead, you found me and Macey together. You must have felt so betrayed.” He rises to his feet. “But you have to understand—”

  “Sit back down,” I command before he can get near me. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

  He settles back on his log, his gaze steady. “Then, what do you need?”

  “Quiet.” I lift the cauldron back onto the hook over the fire. “And space to think without worrying about you.”

  He nods but doesn’t speak. Instead, he uses his foot to draw out the first symbol of the barrier spell, then grabs a rock and awkwardly carves it into the wood on either side of him before he turns and draws the fourth mark into the dirt at his back. All the symbols point inward, directing the spell to bind him in place. All it needs is magic.

  Steps cautious, I walk over to him, and when he doesn’t move an inch, I crouch to touch the nearest symbol and invoke the spell. It’s not as strong as carving it into stone, less temporary with the chance of rain washing it away, but it will do for now.

  “Take all the time you need,” he murmurs as I back away from him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  By nightfall, I have the baker’s racks in the cave moved around to leave one corner open and carved a better barrier spell into the stone floor, walls, and ceiling. I grab one of the kerosene heaters and a sleeping bag, add a jug of water and a bucket, and decide that’s as much as I can do.

  I don’t trust Donovan enough anymore to bring him into the camper, especially not while I sleep. Not that I plan to do that tonight. I’m too wound up and running on fumes, which gives me a false sense of energy. Eventually, I’ll crash. Nobody, not even a witch, can go without sleep for long without becoming a danger to themself and those nearby.

  The last thing I want is to make an irrevocable mistake due to exhaustion.

  When I come out of the cave, Donovan sits slumped on his log, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging. Maggie sits at his feet, inside the barrier, the little traitor. From what I can tell, he hasn’t tried to move or free himself.

  At the sound of my approach, he wearily straightens and rolls his head, cracking his neck. He offers me a tentative smile. “The stew smells good.”

  It really doesn’t, but I don’t call him out on it. I didn’t add seasonings or meat, and with how long it’s been boiling, it will be a gummy mash by now. But food is food, and bodies need fuel to keep running.

  I stride past him without speaking and duck into the camper long enough to grab bowls and utensils before coming back out.

  Donovan remains still, not even standing to stretch his legs. Just patiently waiting for me to decide his fate.

  As I glop brown paste into his bowl, I peek at him from the corner of my eye. “Shouldn’t you be begging more for your life?”

  “It wouldn’t matter if I did, would it?” When I stay silent, he shrugs and takes the bowl I offer. “I trust you, no matter what you think, I don’t believe you’re going to hurt me, that you want to hurt me. Nothing else matters right now. I’ll stay with you as long as you need until you believe that.” He picks up his spoon and turns it, lumpy paste plopping back into his bowl. “You know, I used to dream about you making me dinner.”

  “Does it live up to your expectations?” I ask drily as I serve up a second bowl and take a seat across from him. “Everything you imagined?”

  “Kind of.” He tips his head back. “We have stars and a fire.”

  I glance up at the sky, tracing the lines of Orion’s Belt. “I used to dream about this, too. Spending nights under the stars with you. It gave me comfort when you were gone, to know we still slept under the same sky.”

  “It wasn’t a university Dad sent me to.” Donovan tries a bite of his mash, wrinkles his nose at the flavor, but swallows anyway. “Well, it kind of was, but not like what normal kids get.” He frowns down into his bowl. “It was a cult, I guess, run by people he trained with. I didn’t like what was going on there, and when I talked to Dad about it, he kept telling me I was overreacting, that I’d understand if I just gave it time.” His lips twist. “I guess he was hoping I’d get on board with dark magic.”

  Swallowing hard, he sets his bowl aside. “They start out slow, testing people’s limits, seeing where they’ll compromise, and keep building on it. I didn’t know what was going on at first, and when I figured it out, I told Dad I was done and that I was coming home. I assumed things had changed since he was there, that he was the one who didn’t understand, but if what Macey said is true...”

  His voice cracks, and I’m halfway off my log before I force myself back down. Every instinct tells me to go to him, to comfort him, but this could all be a trick to lure me in.

  Donovan scrubs at his face. “I thought he didn’t keep pictures of Mom because it hurt too much to see her. I didn’t think it was because he just didn’t care. I actually told him I was serious about you, that I wanted to propose—”

  He cuts off on a gasp, his body curving forward as sobs shake his shoulders. This time, I can’t stop myself from going to him. I can’t just turn off two years of loving this man and seeing him in pain hurts so much. It’s like I’m watching him live through the loss of his family. I know that grief, have lived through it, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  I realize what I’m doing before I cross the barrier, though, and stop, my toes just brushing the outer curve of the symbol in front of him.

  He looks up, tears swimming in his green eyes. “I don’t want magic, Evaine. Not if this is what it does to people. Take mine. I give it freely. I’d rather it go to you than to him.”

  As if summoned, the dark grimoire thunks down onto the log next to him, its cover flipping open and pages rustling.

  “No!” I slap it closed before it can show me the horrifying spell to strip away Donovan’s magic.

  I’ve seen the remains left by that dark art and want nothing to do with it.

  “You’re not thinking clearly. You should go to bed.” I untie the string from the stake in the ground and stand, scuffing my foot through the dirt. “Come on. And bring your stew. You shouldn’t waste food around here.”

  Wiping his eyes, Donovan takes his bowl and follows me to the cave, walking docilely into the corner I set up for him.

  As I activate the barrier, he sits on the sleeping bag, then gazes up at me. “Do you have to leave?”

  I should, I tell myself I should, but I find myself sitting cross-legged on the ground, an invisible wall and pain all that stands between us.

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  “Don’t thank me.” I curl my hands into my lap. “I might still kill you tomorrow.”

  8

  My hands smack into something as I stretch.

  Cradling it, I sit up to get my bearings.

  Last night, I staggered out of the cave to collapse next to the firepit. The ring of logs has a built-in ward against wildlife, so as long as the weather is good, sleeping out here is safe.

  Leaving was hard, though. When it became obvious I wouldn’t talk to him anymore, Donovan settled for leaning against the wall and humming. The soft melody nearly lulled me to sleep before I escaped.

  For all I know, he was using magic to manipulate my mind. If I listen to Macey, Donovan’s been training to take over the dark coven, and if I listen to Donovan, he wasn’t even aware of how dark his father had gone. But in both scenarios, he’s a witch of unknown power. I’m not sure what his end game is, but I’ll keep going until I find out or he kills me.

  Rising to my feet, I st
ir the fire to life, add kindling, and prep the cauldron to make oats for breakfast. They’ll take some time to cook, but time is something we have a lot of right now. In the dark cave, Donovan won’t even know it’s morning.

  With breakfast simmering, I walk to the waterspout I spent months digging and draw a warming rune on the plastic pipe. With my magic unblocked, I’m no longer left with glacial water to clean myself up. I bet Hattie always did this because she never once complained about the cold mountain water.

  The thought of Hattie brings a smile to my face. She’d be proud of how far I’ve come in just a short time. All those hours she drilled into me finally clicked into place once the block on my magic lifted.

  After I change into a clean pair of jeans and a black thermal, I check on the oatmeal. They still need another minute or two, so I stir the cauldron to break up the clumps, then walk to the trailer to grab bowls and spoons.

  On the counter rests the raspberry jam Hattie bought the last time she went into town. She was never good at verbal compliments, but she showed her love in other ways, like getting jam for us to have with our breakfast.

  Scooping the jam up and adding it to my haul from the trailer, I return to the firepit. At this point, the oats are at the perfect texture for me, which means a little chewy. If Donovan doesn’t like it, he’ll have to deal. With his rich upbringing, he’s probably never had oatmeal before.

  The temptation to skip giving Donovan any jam plays out in a mini-debate in my mind as I load mine up with a spoonful. In the end, I decide to play his game and be nice. Maybe he’ll be more open to trusting me if he thinks I trust him.

  With a bowl in each hand and a lantern hanging from my index finger, I make my way to where I left Donovan.

  About halfway into the cave, my heart rate quickens. What if I messed up the magic and he escaped? What if he figured out how to contact his dad? Am I running into a trap?

  My paranoia nearly turns me back, but I stop and close my eyes, breathing deeply to ground myself, then reach out my magic to the gold cuff around my wrist, tapping into the gold nearby. If I need extra support, I’ll have it.

  When I step into the storage area, the only thing that changed since last night is Donovan now sits cross-legged on his sleeping bag, his back straight and his hands loose on his knees. His eyes are closed, and his features are smooth and even in meditation.

  He has the same serene expression as the times we visited the park and laid in the grass, absorbing the sun’s rays and content with our surroundings and each other.

  I shake my head to dispel those thoughts. He was playing me, trying to convince me I could trust him, all while bringing me one step closer to his dad.

  Irritation seeps through my veins like an electric current hit me, and I drop the food in front of him, keeping one foot out of the barrier to ground me. “Breakfast.”

  He cracks his eyes open and stares down at the bowl of food, the texture similar to what we ate last night.

  “Thanks.” He tentatively picks the bowl up and sniffs.

  “I didn’t poison it,” I bite out.

  “I didn’t think you did.” He gazes up at me calmly. “You could have killed me multiple times since I’ve been with you, but you haven’t. You aren’t a killer.”

  Bitter laughter escapes me. “Tell that to Trevor.”

  “Stop that. From what you’ve said, that was self-defense. Yes, someone is dead from your actions, but it wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t seek him out,” Donovan reasons, but his opinion won’t sway me.

  My path is set.

  “No, I didn’t seek him out. Your father did and set all this in motion,” I spit out, my resolve hardening again.

  How could I ever think Donovan was anything but a clone of his father?

  Donovan sets his bowl down and leans forward. “About that. How do you know it was my dad? Did you see him there? Did you see him kill your mom and grandmother? Did anyone call his name?” Donovan scrubs his dirty face, then locks his eyes with mine. “I spent a good part of the night thinking about what you and Macey said, and he may not be a nice man, but he’s not capable of murder. I would know if someone around me was like that.”

  Laughter escapes me again, and I tilt my head back so it echoes through the cave. “We spent two years together, and you had no clue that’s what I was capable of. You’ve told me numerous times that he was a horrible man. What makes you think it’s not him?”

  I give Donovan a few minutes to put his answer together. Did he think I would just take his word for it and not question him?

  “He is horrible, but I said those things because he never listened to me, never took my desires or wants into consideration when forcing decisions on me. Decisions like which school I wanted to attend. Yeah, it wasn’t the place for me, and they did questionable stuff there, but when I asked to come home, he didn’t fight me on it. He was disappointed I didn’t want to focus on my magic. I wanted— No, I want to focus on other things like music and the arts. Those things make me happy. He’s like most parents who want what they think is best for their child instead of paying attention to what I want.”

  Ugh, he hit close to home with that line. My mom never understood me and how I dealt with magic. She tried to box me in with everyone else. I knew my mom’s nature. Well… I thought I did. I didn’t realize she was the one who bound my magic and let me suffer all these years.

  It looks like neither of us knew what our parents were capable of. But despite all that, she still sacrificed herself to save me, and she entrusted all our coven’s magic to me. It was a stupid sacrifice, though.

  Angry, I throw my bowl across the cave, where it shatters into dozens of pieces.

  “Evaine…”

  “Sabine,” I snap, not wanting to hear that name from him anymore. It was a name linked to happiness, and I no longer feel that when I look at him. “My name is Sabine.”

  “Right, Sabine.” Donovan stands and angrily brushes the dust off his pants. It’s all been a lie, and now, we both have to live with those consequences. “I need to know for sure. You’ve been planning your revenge for years, so you’ve built up an idea for what should happen and how. I haven’t had time to digest all of this. I also don’t trust Macey. She would say anything to save herself.”

  “The truth rune showed me when she was telling the truth,” I point out.

  “But was she telling you the whole truth?” Donovan paces the limited space of his cage. “It’s easy to lie by omission and not have the spell pick up on it. Please, help me discover the truth.”

  Walking a couple steps away from Donovan, my hands clench into fists. Is this just another way he’s trying to stop me from getting my revenge?

  “I swear I’ll be the first person to help you if we find out he’s the one who did hurt your fam—”

  “Murdered,” I cut in sharply. “He slaughtered them like animals.”

  He pales but presses on. “I need concrete evidence. Wouldn’t you demand the same, in my situation?”

  His green eyes plead with me, and I nearly break. Those are the same eyes I’ve dreamt about so many times. The eyes that kept me sane when everything around me fell apart. And he’s right. I’d demand evidence, too. But what if this is a trap? He knows how to play me.

  I call to the dark grimoire, and it responds, landing in my upturned hands.

  Without answering Donovan, I focus on my desire, and the book opens.

  I read the page it settles on. A spell to lock in intent. If I agree to Donovan’s request, this should make sure it works out in my favor.

  I look up at Donovan. “Will you swear to find out the truth, no matter what, and help me to take down the person who killed my family? The grimoire showed me a spell that will lock you into this adventure. If you break this trust, the consequences are death. Are you willing to go that far to find your answers?”

  “Yes. Tell me what I need to swear, and the words are yours.” Donovan offers me his hand. These kinds of spells al
ways demand a blood sacrifice.

  “You swear to not turn me in to anyone, not run away, not use magic on me, and focus on finding the truth. Once we find it, you are bound to help me exact revenge on the people who harmed my family.” I slide the scissors from my belt and hold them up for him to take his own blood. This is the most dangerous part because he can easily overpower me and pull me through the barrier, killing me with the scissors or even his bare hands.

  My hand shakes slightly as I wait for him to complete the ritual.

  After the initial cut, his eyes stay focused on mine, reciting the words to me with conviction.

  When it’s done, he drops his hand to his side and rubs his bloody finger against his pant leg.

  A wash of magic hits me as we stand facing each other, linking us together in this quest. He may be able to find a way to break the spell, but it will be hard since he isn’t allowed to run away for help.

  Now that we’re bound, I drop the barrier spell to release him, then brace myself when he steps forward, stopping within a few inches of me. “I understand why you asked for that spell, and I would have agreed to more, because I need the truth, too. Promise me you won’t try to think of anymore spells on the fly, though, because you didn’t ask me not to physically or emotionally hurt you. Someone who doesn’t care for you would take advantage of that.” He tucks some loose hair behind my ear, his touch sending tingles throughout my body.

  Then, he marches toward the cave entrance.

  After Donovan cleans up, he joins me by the fire. “I have an idea.”

  Sparks fly as I poke the smoldering embers. “Okay. What do you have in mind?”

  “Well…” Donovan runs his hand through his wet hair, the water turning his brown hair almost black. “My dad’s office is at the back of the house. I thought we could start there.”

  “Is that at the meeting place?” If that’s the case, then we’re both working on the same idea.