But before driving to West Hill, I went to meet Vaira. I had visited her before, wanting to give her the news about the contest, and she had told me she was at a pub in Chasseur Ville.
An outed half-demon in a town full of demon hunters. Had she lost her fucking mind?
To my surprise, Vaira wasn’t alone in the pub. Her boyfriend and leader of the half-camp settlement, Daerman, was with her. They were seated at a small table in the middle of the packed pub—full of humans ready to start the treasure hunt game.
I took a seat at their table.
“Vaira told me you were going to cancel this shitty contest,” Daerman said, his voice not too low.
Eyes wide, I glanced around. What if the humans heard him? But no one seemed to be paying attention. The humans were way too excited about the rest of their evening.
I nodded. “Yes, I can’t disclose details, but in a couple of weeks, the Shadow Trials will be canceled.”
“That’s great news,” Vaira said. She raised her beer glass. “I’ll count my favor paid once that’s announced.” She drank a long swallow of her drink. “Ah, great night to celebrate. Why don’t you order one for yourself?”
As much as I wanted to, I didn’t have time for that. “I can’t. I have plans.”
Daerman shot me a sly look. “Hm, plans? Who is the lucky girl?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Almost one thousand years old and I still wanted to roll my eyes during some situations. “It isn’t like that.” I pushed my chair back.
Vaira smiled at me, the first smile she had offered me in a long time. “Thank you, Rey. I mean it.”
“My pleasure.” I dipped my head at both of them, then weaved through the crowd.
With a sense of mission accomplished, I left the pub, slipped into my car, and drove toward West Hill. It was one thing among so many others I had to work on, but I was glad to have that ticked off my to-do list.
Though West Hill was a quaint town at first glance, it was a pretty big dump. Past the beautiful greenway and the shops that surrounded it was a suburb that any human should be afraid to walk in.
I parked my car around the green and walked into the neighborhood. The cement of the sidewalk was cracked. The flowerbeds lining the sidewalks were either empty or filled with dead plants. The sides of the buildings served as murals for graffiti art, or showed the peeling of the paint, the collapsed concrete, the broken glass windows. It all looked as if it had been abandoned to rats and cockroaches.
The foul smell of rot and stuffy air of the place reached my nostrils, and I wrinkled my nose.
Five blocks later, I entered a dark alley.
The witch’s shop was located at the end of the alley, where only the supernaturals would be able to locate.
Halfway down the alley, I skidded to a halt.
The shop’s black door opened and Professor Martha stepped out, a half open black bag in her arms.
“Rey.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, Professor Rey. What brings you here?”
“I needed some herbs to enchant the swords for my class,” I told her. My gaze fell to the bag in her arms and I frowned. “And why would you need hemlock and belladonna?”
I knew exactly why she needed them, and I was totally against it. Those herbs, and certainly the rest of the things inside the bag, were all used in dark magic. Like syphoning the lifeforce of dead bodies, or reanimating them.
“For my class,” she said quickly. She taught magic spells, and unless she wanted to go against the academy rules, she could only teach the students about benevolent spells.
All right, I was fucking tired of this pretense. “I know how you’re using those.” Her eyes widened. “Teaching dark magic to Erin? Are you fucking out of your mind?”
Martha’s shock gone, she stilled herself, and her eyes hardened. “Have you been following us?” I pressed my jaw tight. “No, not us. You’re following Erin.”
Fuck. “What if I am?”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes darkening. “I thought I made myself clear, Rey. Stay away from my daughter.”
“I am staying away from her,” I said through gritted teeth. “I just watch over her sometimes, from a distance.” I inhaled deeply, and forced my voice to even out. “I’m following her to keep her safe,” I said, my voice calm. Flat. “Or haven’t you seen what Tom Heyward and his friends did to her?"
Martha glared at me. “I could beat that boy to a pulp, but … I don’t need to, because you did, right? I heard the rumors that you punched Tom in the face.”
I groaned. “I punched the wall beside his head, but I’m starting to regret that since I got in trouble for it anyway. Regardless, I won’t allow that to happen again.”
“No, I won’t allow that to happen again. I will protect her.” She took a step toward me. I was a head taller than her, but she didn’t seem one bit fazed by my stature. “Last warning, Rey. Stay the fuck away from my daughter.” I opened my mouth to tell her I wouldn’t, but she went on, “Stay away from her, or I’ll make you regret it.”
I frowned, wondering why she hated me so much, what had I done to deserve such hatred. She didn’t know how old I was or about my work for Asmodeus all those years, did she? She didn’t. She couldn’t know.
Unless Randall had told her. Or Erin. No, Erin wouldn’t have done that.
With a humph, Martha marched past me and out of the alley.
My hands balled into fists and I felt an urge to go after her and … I didn’t even know what.
She was the mother of the woman I loved. If I decided to go against her, it would only make things worse. But at the same time, it was temptation. Was she serious? Was she really threatening me to stay away from Erin? Didn’t she know it only enticed the demon in me?
I shook my head, sending those thoughts away. I couldn’t worry about that now. Even without Martha’s warning, I had no intention of getting close to Erin.
All right. I wasn’t here for that. I walked to the door of the witch’s shop, but stopped before I opened it.
Something caught my attention—a dark blue light.
Summoning my darkfire, I turned to it.
I gasped.
Three shiny, midnight blue werewolves stood in front of me. I had heard of them. They were the fabled Starlight pack, a pack of magical werewolves, with incredible power. They had recently resurfaced after spending many years thought to be extinct.
One of the werewolves shapeshifted into a woman. She was pretty with long, brown curls, and big hazel eyes. But what puzzled me was that when she shifted, clothes covered her body. I had never seen that trick before.
“Hi,” the woman said. “I’m Luana, the alpha of the Starlight pack. I’m looking for my friend, Wyatt. I’ve been looking for him all over this region, and I heard rumors that he used to hang out with a half-demon named Reyan. That’s you, right?”
I frowned. How the fuck did she know that? “I haven’t heard from Wyatt in a while.” Which was the truth. Last time I seen him? It was probably a year ago, when Erin had fled from the academy and ended up facing screinors. Wyatt had helped her, until he fainted from the screinors’ powerful shriek.
She cursed under her breath. “It’s a long story, but he is from my pack, before I became alpha. One day, he upped and left. No word, no news. I haven’t heard from in almost two years. I need to know he’s okay.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, Luana, but I really don’t know.”
She shook her head. “If you hear from him, will you contact me?” She fished a cell phone from her pocket, and we exchanged numbers.
“Will do,” I told her.
Luana shifted into the magical blue-purple werewolf, joined the other two, and they disappeared into the night.
I stayed put for a moment, wondering what might have had happen to Wyatt. He had always been so quiet and predictable. Then suddenly, he disappeared and the pack’s alpha was here looking for him. But Wyatt wasn’t a Starlight wolf. I had seen him in wolf form many
times, and he didn’t glow as they did.
Wyatt was a big guy. An adult. Probably twenty-one years old? He could handle himself, I was sure. And if he couldn’t, all he needed to do was ask for help.
Pushing him out of my mind, I walked into the store, eager to get this over with so I could get back to the academy. So I could check on Erin.
19
Erin
Finally, the weekend was upon us. Saturday night I practiced with my mother. She had killed more mice and asked me to reanimate them. And we argued, as usual, because I didn’t want to do that.
To appease her rage, I pretended to try, since she wouldn’t know if I was really using magic or not, and in the end just told her I couldn’t do it.
“I think these spells are out of my league,” I said.
She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t push it either. Thankfully, she let me go after a few more tries.
On Sunday afternoon, Claire, Harper, and I piled into Claire’s car and drove to Chasseur Ville. Harper told us she had called her grandmother to let her know she would be visiting with some friends. She hadn’t told her grandmother any more details, and I was grateful for that. What if her grandmother was against people talking to her about her magic and her heritage? I didn’t want to be shut down before even trying.
On the way there, I asked Harper about her lineage. “Do you have any magic? I mean, you have at least a little Wildthorn blood in your veins.”
She explained that technically she was twenty-five percent Wildthorn witch and yes, she had some magic, but it was all useless. She could make plants grow faster, and some other silly tricks. That was all.
Driving down the quaint streets of Chasseur Ville in the middle of the day, we passed the castle in the center of town. I looked up at it, right to the top of its roof, where Rey had taken me and where I first thought I could like him. That I was in danger of falling in love with him.
Back then, he was so caring, so friendly. There had been moments when he had avoided me, but not like now. Not like this.
Back then, I had believed he liked me too.
That felt like eons ago.
Following Harper’s directions, Claire drove around the castle, and into the more resident part of the village.
Not a minute later, Harper pointed to a two-story house with a wide, welcoming porch. Vines grew over the rails, and potted plants lined the driveway and crammed the house’s entrance. “Here we are.”
Claire brought her car into the driveaway, and we exited it, just as an old woman with short, white hair appeared at the door. A thin tiara of woven flowers sat atop of her head.
“Hello there,” she said amiably. With a wide smile, she waited for us on the front porch. She wore a long dress with a colorful flower print. That and the tiara gave me the impression that she cared about her appearance.
That, or she was way into flowers and plants.
“Hi, Grandma.” Harper embraced her tight, then turned to us. “These are my friends, Claire and Erin.”
“It’s a pleasure to have you all here,” the old woman said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.
The old woman cracked a wide smile. “Ma’am? No, no, call me Francine. That’s my name.” She beckoned us forward. “Come on, I made cookies for you.”
Harper’s eyes widened. “If it’s her honey cookies, they are the best.”
The three of us followed Francine inside. The foyer opened to a living room dotted with even more plants than outside. I didn’t know much about plants, but I could bet there were about a hundred different kinds spread through the house—entwined with the staircase’s handrail, hanging from the ceiling, in vases on the corners, and over shelves, tables, and other furniture.
All right, it was definitely a plant thing.
“Please, take a seat,” Francine said, gesturing to the brown leather couch in the middle of the living room. We sat down, and thirty seconds later, a large tray with many sweet-scented cookies appeared on the coffee table before us. “Please, dig in.”
Harper advanced on the cookies, taking two. “These are my favorite,” she said, before taking a huge bite of one of the cookies.
Francine chuckled. “I always have to hide them, or she’ll eat them all.”
“But it’s so good,” Harper muttered, her voice muffled by her full mouth.
I reached for one cookie and took a bite. My taste buds exploded. I had always liked honey, but these cookies were out of this world. I suppressed a moan. “These are delicious.”
Harper winked at me. “Told you.”
Claire was busy munching on a cookie, clearly loving it as much as Harper and me.
Francine stared at us, glad to see us enjoying her snacks. “So, what brings you here?”
Harper swallowed hard. “What makes you say that?”
Her grandmother narrowed her eyes at us. “Three beautiful, young women hanging around an old croon like me on a Sunday afternoon? I highly doubt it’s just for the cookies.”
“But, Grandma—”
Francine waved Harper off. “It’s okay, dear. I’m just glad you came by, even if it’s with a purpose.”
Harper glanced at me.
I quickly finished eating my cookie and turned to Francine. “Actually, I was wondering if you could help me.”
Francine frowned. “With what, my dear?”
“I told them you’re a Wildthorn witch,” Harper blurted out. She shrank in the couch, seemingly afraid of her grandmother’s wrath.
But the old woman didn’t lash out. She simply lost her smile as she stared at her with serious eyes. “It’s okay. As long as you two keep quiet, it should be fine.”
“You think the demon hunters would capture you if they found out?” Claire asked.
Francine nodded. “I know they would. I’ve seen it done before.”
“It seems so wrong,” Claire said, her voice low.
“Agreed, but since I live in a demon hunter town, there isn’t much I can do about that.” She glanced at me, her eyes softer than a moment ago. “How can I help you, my dear?”
“During one of my classes, I heard that Wildthorn witches can break almost any curse or bond.” I lowered the neckline of my blouse, showing her the twin soul mark above my left breast. “Could you break a twin soul bond?”
Her brows pinched. “It’s uncommon, because people who share a twin soul bond are destined to be together. They love each other.” I suppressed a scoff, “But I think it could be broken.”
I stiffened, my eyes going wide. “It can?” I had come to her, but deep down, I thought it would be impossible.
She nodded. “To be honest, I don’t need to break it for you. With the right tools, you can perform the ritual yourself. That would be much more effective.”
One more surprise. “And what do I need?”
“It’s simple,” Francine said. “You need a Wildthorn witch’s wand, which is made from the wood of blackthorn trees. In front of a blackthorn tree, you use the wand to summon a curse-breaking demon called Tornar. You’ll also need a few drops of your blood and of your soulmate’s. The rest is simple.”
Blood from my soulmate. Shit. “Can’t I perform this ritual alone? Do I need my …” I pressed my lips tight, not willing to say the word out loud. “Does the guy need to be with me?”
She nodded. “Yes. He has to perform the ritual with you.”
Shit. I really wanted to leave him out of this. I wanted to do it and then go to him and say, “There, you’re free of me. Be happy now.”
“There’s one little problem,” Harper said. “Blackthorn trees are rare and the only one we know of is right in the middle of the academy. How are you going to summon a demon there?”
“We can do it in the middle of night,” Claire said. “Everyone will be sleeping.”
“But what if the demon is a little loud?” Harper asked, with a hint of sarcasm. All demons were loud, unless they were sneaking somewhere.
“How about a
silencing spell?” Claire mused. “I saw a few of those in the spell books. Do you know any?”
Francine nodded. “I do. I can teach you to do that too, Erin.”
Silencing spell, using a witch’s wand, and summoning a demon? It didn’t seem too easy. But this was for breaking the soul bond. It wouldn’t be easy.
“Anything else I should know?” I asked, my resolution draining from my veins.
Francine held up a finger. She stood up and went to a bookshelf at the end of the room. There, she opened up the lower cabinet doors and picked up a thick leather book, and a long black box. Holding both items, she sat back down.
“Here.” She handed me the box. “That’s my wand. I’ll let you borrow it for the ritual.” Then, she pushed the heavy book at me. “And this is the spell book with the incantation you’ll need.” She scooted closer to me and opened the book on my lap. “This is the spell.” She pointed to the page. “Tornar is a demon imprisoned by this spell. You’ll summon him and he’ll break the curse for you. But once that is done, you have to kill him.”
“I’ll have to battle a demon?” I asked, liking this entire spell a little less.
“He’s strong, but he’ll be contained by the spell,” she explained. “Moreover, he’s already dead, in a way. Killing him again is just the way to send him back to the realm he’s imprisoned in.”
“What happens if I can’t kill him?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about that,” Francine said. “I’m sure you can kill him with a simple strike of your Dawnblade.”
She went through the entire ritual with me, making sure I knew the order of each thing, and that I could pronounce the words I would have to chant.
After it seemed she was done teaching me the ritual elements, I frowned. “Aren’t you curious why I want to break the soul bond?”
She entwined her long fingers together and rested them on her thighs. “I’m sure you have your reasons. You don’t need to tell me. Besides, I’m not fully sure this will work. I think it will, but it’s not guaranteed. However, if this ritual can’t break the soul bond, nothing can.”
The Soul Bond (Rite World: Blackthorn Hunters Academy Book 3) Page 12