A branch brushed against my arm as I ran, the gentle touch of the leaves making me pause for a moment as I looked back toward the house. I
was far enough that I couldn’t see it any longer, but I felt what the trees wanted me to know.
He was coming.
I looked to the right, knowing that I needed to buy Ash more time. His small legs hadn’t been able to cross distance as quickly as I could, and he didn’t have the woods at his command to bend and shift to ease his way.
Ten minutes. If I could buy him that against a Vessel, it would be a miracle.
I grasped the thickest part of the branch where the tree had reached out to touch me.
“Me paenitet,” I murmured, apologizing for the pain the tree would feel
—for what I needed to take. I pulled my knife from the holster on my thigh, using it to saw through the branch. The tree didn’t shudder, didn’t show any sign of the pain I knew it felt.
Of the pain that struck me in the chest with every slice.
It seemed to wrap me in an embrace, comforting me even as I hurt it. It couldn’t speak, couldn’t give me the soft assurances as my mother once had as I did whatever I needed to do to protect Ash.
But it could hug me, wrapping its branches around my body.
I resisted the urge to cry when I finally managed to hack through the branch. Pressing the end between my thighs, I quickly worked to shave the other end into a pointed tip, breaking the smaller branches off the sides so that I would be able to grip it. I didn’t have much time. The earth sent a ripple toward me when he got too close for comfort.
Each step of his feet through the woods rang through them like a vibration, the fight the forest gave him minimal to keep him on my trail. I couldn’t risk him deciding to go after Ash instead.
He would be easy prey.
I returned my knife to my sheath, hefting my handmade stake fashioned from the hawthorn tree and testing its weight.
He moved out of the clearing, his body traveling at a speed I had no hope of really seeing. He emerged in a swirling black mass that was stark against the setting sun. Bats fluttered as they left him, flying around his body in a vortex that must have protected him from the worst of the damage the forest could cause.
A single gash sliced across his cheekbone, cutting through the ethereal beauty as he bared his teeth at me. A trickle of blood stained his cheek. His eyes fell to the stake clutched in my hand, the animalistic look in his eyes making them seem darker when he raised them to mine finally.
“Careful, Witchling. At some point, this will all cease to be entertaining,” he said, taking a step toward me.
The trees reacted before I did, a root swiping for his feet. He jumped over it without taking his gaze from mine, advancing as those bats fluttered protectively.
A branch lashed out, aiming for his throat, but the tiny creature blocked it, taking the blow meant for him with a screech.
I held out my free hand, signaling the trees to stop their attack. While the Vessel might have been willing to sacrifice them to the fight, that was something I couldn’t tolerate.
The Vessel turned his head to look at where the branches withdrew, studying me curiously. “It’s just my kind you want to kill then?” he asked, laughing as if the thought was ridiculous.
It made me want to prove that I could do it, but unless I got the perfect shot, it would be next to impossible. A Vessel could only be destroyed by a Necromancer, their magic sending the thing within back to the depths of
Hell. A stake could do the job, technically, if a witch managed to slip their magic into the chasm where the heart might have been.
Mine was a stake carved from wood. A Blue needed to find a way to slip water within their heart chasm, a Yellow fire.
But it wasn’t just the element itself that needed to fill the hole in their existence, but the essence of magic it would take to unmake the Vessel. Only a Black could do it without great personal sacrifice. It wasn’t a sacrifice many witches were willing to make.
Not when it drained them of everything and left them powerless. A fate worse than death for a witch of the Coven.
Humanity.
“I’m not stupid enough to think I can kill you,” I said in answer, spinning the stake in my hand dramatically, distracting him, stalling for time. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t maim you.”
The Vessel moved so slowly, acting as if he could sneak up on me before I realized what he was doing. I waited until he was within my grasp, letting him get far too close for my comfort. The scent of him washed over me, filling the woods with it. It was the scent of wet soil after a light summer rain, earthen and fresh all at once.
When his foot struck the leaves that the trees had gathered around me, I leapt forward. A tree root raised beneath me, shoving me forward and giving me momentum as I flung myself toward him. I drove the stake toward his heartless chest, screaming as I channeled my magic into the wood in my hand.
The forest around us went silent, my magic leaving it to focus on that stake. Headmaster Thorne caught my wrist just as the tip touched the fabric of his suit. He fell backward as the rest of my body followed, crashing into him so that he landed on the forest floor.
I fell on top of him, scrambling to get my legs around his hips even as his grip tightened on my wrist. He held me with ease, squeezing at the joint until I felt my bones grind together.
“Release it,” he ordered. I pressed my other hand to his chest, pushing myself up so that I sat astride his hips and put all my weight into the hand he seemed determined to shatter.
“Fuck you,“ I snarled, pressing harder. His eyes widened as it indented the fabric, the stake slipping just slightly closer to his chest.
He grinned, a cruel laugh sliding over my skin as he wrapped his free hand around the front of my throat. He squeezed, cutting off my breath as the webbing between his thumb and index finger pressed against my windpipe.
“Gladly, Witchling. Though I must admit, I thought I’d need to buy you dinner first.”
He used it to flip me to my back suddenly, and I might have lost the air in my lungs if he hadn’t already stolen it. His body covered mine immediately, slipping between my thighs and holding me still. With his body pinning my hips, his hand on my throat and the other grasping my wrist, I did the only thing I could do.
I used my other hand to grab him by the hair, tugging his head to the side as he glared down at me. His fangs gleamed in the darkness. His eyes drifted closed as I pulled, trying to yank him back so that he would release my throat. Instead, he only laughed again, running his tongue over his teeth before that haunting blue stare met mine.
“You’re quite the little demon, aren’t you?”
“Do not insult me by comparing me to your kind, bloodsucker,” I hissed.
“I wouldn’t dare to insult you, love. It’s a compliment,” he said, his thumb pressing harder into the side of my neck where he gripped it. He tipped it to the side, baring my neck to his gaze as my eyes widened with realization.
I released the stake, attempting to push my hand into the dirt beneath my body to connect to the forest once more. He dropped his head toward me too quickly, his mouth approaching my exposed neck.
“No!” I screamed, thrashing my legs as I fought against the way he held me pinned.
Lips touched my skin, a twisted sort of pleasure blooming as I broke out in goosebumps. He smiled against me as he held me still, ignoring my fight as the tips of his fangs touched me.
They broke through the skin brutally, a gentle pop resounding through me. I felt every drag of them through my flesh, felt them plant themselves as deep as they could as a strangled whimper escaped me.
Then the pain came, the deep burning that stemmed from my throat as he drew my blood into his mouth. He groaned into me, the sound tightening something in my stomach even as the burning spread through my veins. His
toxin worked its way through me, and the bastard did nothing to ease the pain, even though he could have.
He could have transformed that pain into pleasure, instead he left me to
burn.
“Get. Off. Me,” I snapped, releasing my grip on his hair and thrusting my hand into the dirt. His head snapped up from my throat, his teeth sliding out of the puncture wounds they’d created.
“Fuck,” he grunted as a branch slid between us and flung him back.
His weight left my body. One of the tree roots from beneath my body lifted me, sliding against my spine and guiding me to my feet. I touched a hand to my neck, peering down at it as it came away stained with blood.
“That was rude,” I said, bending down and gathering dirt from the forest floor. I rubbed it into the wounds, my skin warming as my magic worked to heal them slowly.
Thorne stood from the ground, adjusting his suit as he ran his tongue over the blood gathered at the corner of his mouth. “Worth it,” he said, eying the trees around him as I contemplated how to proceed. It seemed we were at a stalemate, deciding how best to proceed. We both knew what the other wanted, but getting it seemed to be another challenge.
The scream that tore through the night saved me from all thought, making my head snap toward the direction of the bus stop.
No.
I ran, bursting through the woods. The forest cleared a path for me as I sprinted, lifting my feet and giving me more speed. A dip in the ground would have slowed me down had a tree root not raised, creating something for me to slide along and cross it with ease.
No. No. No.
“Not fast enough, Witchling!” Thorne called out, his voice surrounding me. I couldn’t see him as he bled into the darkness that had encompassed the woods during our fight, focusing all my strength on getting there.
Ash screamed again, the sound of a male’s laughter following as I burst out of the woods and sprinted across the pavement at the bus stop. Each step took me away from the place that bolstered me, that offered me my only chance at fighting.
Three figures surrounded my brother’s small form where he stood at the center of the parking lot, perfectly positioned to weaken me.
Thorne rested a hand on my brother’s shoulder, his unnatural speed having allowed him to reach Ash and the others more quickly than I could. He looked down at my brother as I skidded to a stop in front of them, my gaze darting over Ash to make sure he wasn’t hurt.
Thorne’s voice drew my attention to him, his free hand reaching up to touch his bloodstained mouth in a wordless threat.
“Hello again, Witchling.”
