Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy)

As my father ransacked my room, pulling clothing out of drawers and tossing books from my shelves, I kept telling myself I was innocent. I didn’t know where the book was. I’d never touched it.

I was good. I was obedient. I wasn’t a liar.

Dad stubbornly refused to tell the rest of the family what had happened. Meredith became more and more irritated, until she was following Dad around the house, shrieking at him to tell her what the hell was going on. My siblings thought it was hilarious to watch, until their own bedrooms were next to be torn through.

Only when the house was entirely turned upside down did Dad leave, declaring he was going back to the Historical Society. He’d doubtlessly rip that place apart too, but his fury was slowly melting into fear.

If Leon found out he no longer had the grimoire, there was a good chance we’d all be killed.

The moment my father left, I locked myself in my room. I needed to get out now, while I had the chance. The grimoire was still out there. I needed to get back to the Historical Society, find the box before my father did, and run.

But night had fallen, and I had no vehicle. Callum had promised he would be nearby, but I hadn’t seen a sign of him all day. I’d been so certain he would appear when my father caught me; I’d believed he would somehow sense my fear and come.

Sliding open my bedroom window, I leaned out into the night and whispered, “Callum! Callum, where are you?”

Only the chirping crickets answered me. The distant trees moved in the breeze; the grass swayed. Frowning, I said, more loudly this time, “Callum!”

A figure suddenly appeared from the darkness, and I jerked back so hard I banged my head on the window frame. But it wasn’t Callum. It was Leon.

His gaze practically glowed in the dark as he strode through the yard on silent feet. Shit, how much had he heard?

He stopped walking, taking a moment to regard me slowly.

“Considering sneaking out the window?” he said, as instant denial rushed to my tongue. “I wouldn’t bother, girl. If the Eld don’t get you, I’ll have to.”

I sunk onto my mattress, staring at him out the window. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, stepping closer, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

Could he smell Callum on me? On my window? On my bed?

But all he did was scoff in disgust and back away, saying rudely, “Fucking witches…” He kept muttering as he walked away, disappearing into the darkness, and I finally breathed a little sigh of relief.

But my relief was short-lived. Where the hell was Callum?

Despite the risk, the day after my attempted theft, I made a call to the Historical Society. I kept my questions as casual as I could with Janet, not wanting to raise her suspicions as I asked if the cardboard boxes on the second floor were still there.

“Oh, those were donated,” she said. “Some guy picked them up this morning.”

“Some guy?” Hope bled out of me. I wanted to scream. “What was his name? Who did he work for? Where was —”

But Janet just said, “I don’t know. Did I do something wrong?”

Practically choking on my words, I said, “No. You’re good. Never mind.”

The grimoire was gone, sent away to who knows where, and the more questions I asked, the more suspicion I would draw to myself. But it was Callum’s absence that worried me more than anything else.

Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him at all. Maybe my grandmother was wrong, and all this time, the demon had just been waiting for his opportunity to abandon me.

Even for me, who loathed trusting anyone, such a thought made no sense. Callum had no reason to go back on his word or make empty promises.

The way he’d held me…the things he’d promised…perhaps I was being naive, but I trusted him.

But that made my fear even worse. Because if he wasn’t here, like he’d sworn to me he would be, then what the hell happened to him?

Days passed.

There was no further discussion about the missing grimoire, but it was clear my father had not found it. He and Meredith were constantly on edge, watching me with suspicion every time I dared to set foot outside my room. When they weren’t watching me during the day, Leon was stalking around the house at night.

There were no opportunities to escape. Desperate, I tried everything I could think of to get the cuffs off my wrists. Perhaps, with them gone, I could teleport again. But whatever magic they held made them unbreakable, even when I locked myself in the bathroom, wrapped my wrist in a towel, and slammed a hammer as hard as I could against the cuffs.

The pain was agonizing, but the glass didn’t crack.

In a daze, I lay curled on the cold bathroom floor, waiting for the agony to subside. The sound of water dripping from the sink faucet was so loud it made me twitch, and I covered my ears to make it stop.

But it didn’t.

Drip, drip, drip.

Was I losing my mind? My wrists were so swollen, so reddened, it looked like they were infected. A slimy feeling crept up the back of my skull, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the sensation of ragged fingernails dragging along my spine made me shiver.

Let me in.

Something wet touched my cheek, and my eyes flew open. There was cold water all over the floor.

Drip, drip, drip.

I looked up.

The ceiling was writhing. A mass of thick, gray tentacles coiled over each other, as cold viscous liquid dripped onto my face. I tried to scream, scrambling on my hands and knees for the door, but no sound came out. My fingers slipped on the doorknob, slick with the putrid slime covering my hands. My mouth filled with the taste of rot, and I gagged as something wriggled in my throat.

Doubled over, I retched until bile spattered across the floor. But something was still in my throat, filling it, choking me, cutting off my air. My head felt like a balloon about to burst as I used the sink to drag myself to my feet. My eyes were wide, blood-shot and terrified, as I stared into the mirror, opening my mouth wide —

A thick tentacle, covered in blinking eyeballs, protruded from my throat.

Without a sound, I screamed as the tentacle reached out of my mouth, curling around my head. The suckers latched onto me, piercing my skin, squeezing tighter and tighter until —

“Everly! Hurry the fuck up! I’m trying to get down to Main Street before all the parking is gone!”

My brother’s voice was accompanied by his fist pounding on my bedroom door. Standing in front of the mirror, clutching my head in my hands, I blinked slowly before drawing in a shaking breath.

The illusion was gone, just as quickly as it had come. Opening my mouth wide, I peered into my empty throat…then promptly vomited into the sink.

More pounding, this time on the bathroom door. The handle shook. “What the hell are you doing? Dad wants you at the festival, so get your shit together!”

“What festival?” I barely managed to croak out the words.

“Art Fest, dumbass!” Jeremiah said. “You know, that stupid thing you’ve been dragging us to every damn year since you started college?”

Groaning, I tried to force my mind and stomach to settle. But my thoughts kept flying away from me, swirling like leaves in a storm.

Art Fest was a staple of Abelaum life, held every year to feature both student artists from the university and local artisans. There were booths selling everything from jewelry, to paintings, to hand-made soaps. It was always crowded, with people filling the streets until late into the evening.

Forcing myself to stand up straight, I managed to open the door. Jeremiah stood there, and his lip curled at the sight of me. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick? I better not fucking catch it if you are. I’ve got soccer practice all week.”

“Not sick,” I said. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”

At this point, disappearing into a crowd might be my only hope of escape. At the least, it was my first opportunity to get out of the house in days, and I couldn’t let that slip away.

Art Fest was one of the few ways I was allowed to make money outside of the allowance given to me by my father. I sold my canvases, or the hand-painted tarot cards I spent months perfecting. Every penny I made was saved toward my future freedom.

Although I was in no way prepared to sell anything today, I collected the merchandise I still had from last year as well as my folding table and loaded it into Jeremiah’s car as quickly as I could. My jacket covered the cuffs on my arms, but couldn’t hide how pale my face was or the dark circles under my eyes. I was still reeling, dizzy from the God’s attack, but I had to stay alert.

If the opportunity presented itself, I needed to be ready to run.

I didn’t like the look Jeremiah had on his face when he got into the driver’s seat, cranking up the music loud enough to hurt my ears and vibrate the leather beneath me as he sped down the road toward downtown.

As he was forced to slow his speed the closer we got to Main Street, he turned to me and said, “So, are you ready for it this time?”

I didn’t bother to look at him as I answered, “What are you talking about?”

The tires screeched as he whipped into a narrow parking spot, startling the woman parked beside us as she tried to get her crying baby into a stroller. My plan was to exit the vehicle the moment I had the chance, but before I could reach for the door handle, Jeremiah grabbed my face.

“Jeremiah, what the fuck? You’re hurting me —” I tried to pull back, but I was crushed between him and the door as he leaned out of his seat to crowd my space. His windows were so tinted, no one walking by could see what was happening within.

“I don’t know what you’re fucking planning,” he snarled. “But you’re not going to mess this up for me. The second sacrifice is ready to go, Ev. Dad and I have a plan, and tonight, we’re going to make it happen. Raelynn Lawson is going to die.” His eyes were wide with excited glee, and his voice was cruelly mocking as he continued, “Don’t be a little crybaby this time. I know you have something to do with the grimoire going missing. I don’t believe your bullshit story about teleporting and being passed out for days.” His fingers dug in, squeezing my face so hard my eyes filled with furious tears. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work. When Victoria brings the little lamb over to meet you, you’d better suck it up and play along. Do. Your. Duty.”

He roughly pushed me away, knocking my head against the window. He shoved open his door but remained close by, watching me like a hawk as I got my table and merchandise out of the trunk.

That was why they had allowed me to come. So I could serve as the Deep One’s eyes and ears when the sacrifice-to-be was paraded in front of me like a calf at auction.

If I ran now, right now, how far would I get before I was caught? Would I manage to get back home, dig up my map and escape? Would I be able to reach House Laverne before nightfall? Would I —

Sudden, sharp, stunning pain pierced into the back of my neck. For a moment, I thought I was going to pass out as visions assaulted my mind, blinding me completely.

Blood and viscera, endless cries of pain, rattled in my head until I wanted to bash it against the concrete if only to make it stop.

It stopped as suddenly as it began, and I stumbled, catching myself against the side of the car.

“Hey, watch it!” Jeremiah snapped. “You’re gonna scratch the paint!”

What was wrong with me? A strange sensation lingered, even after the pain had passed: an itch on the inside of my skull. As if something was in my head.

Something had changed the night my father took me to St. Thaddeus, and I dreaded to think what that meant.

After finding my booth and setting up my things, my hopes of managing an escape were swiftly dampened. Even when Jeremiah stepped away, Leon stalked through the crowd past my table, giving me a warning glare. He looked human today, with pale green eyes and declawed hands.

“Callum, please,” I whispered, hands wringing on my lap. “Please hear me. Please come.”

Every shout made me jump, every customer that stopped and wanted to chat made me feel like screaming. Then, to my horror, I spotted Victoria approaching with her “friends.”

One of them was named Inaya. I’d had a few art classes with her and she was likely the only person who was actually friends with Victoria. Or at least, friends with the version of Victoria she got to see. Inaya was always kind to me, always sweet. But she wasn’t who I was worried about.

My stomach crumpled like discarded paper when I realized the second sacrifice was standing right in front of me.

Raelynn was a small woman, with large black-rimmed glasses and oversized clothes. Between her big boots, horror-themed t-shirt, and “Official Mothman Fanclub” pins covering her bag, she seemed like the kind of person I would want to be friends with.

But when I looked at her, my mind wasn’t filled with visions of friendship.

I’d seen her before, in my nightmares.

A terrifying, all-consuming desire to hurt her overtook every other thought in my head. I wanted to slit her throat, watch her choke on her own blood. I wanted to carve into her skin, hear the sweet music of her screams as I —

Fuck. No, no, no, that wasn’t right, that wasn’t me.

All I could do was try not to let the horror show on my face as they came to my table. Raelynn’s eyes were wide as she looked at the paintings I’d brought — gouge them out, poke out her eyes, burst them like grapes — but then she noticed my tarot deck and her face lit up.

“Did you paint all these yourself?” she said, and I nodded, forcing myself to smile at her enthusiasm.

“She paints every single one,” Victoria said, her voice sarcastic and her words slightly slurred. “That’s why she’s locked in her room all the time.” She leaned against my table, taking a long sip from a plastic bottle she was carrying. Doubtlessly, it wasn’t water she was eagerly gulping down. “Everly, this is Raelynn. Raelynn Lawson.”

She could still be saved. But she should die in agony. There was still time, I still had a chance to get away, to ensure no one else was hurt. But you wouldn’t betray your God, would you, Everly? Do your duty, do your FUCKING DUTY —

“Nice to meet you, Raelynn,” I said, forcing my voice to be calm and steady despite the bile rising in my throat. This poor girl had no idea, no fucking clue. What if I just blurted it out? What if I screamed at her to get away, to run and never look back? But my tongue was tight, like a cramping muscle.

It was just like with Juniper. Just like with Marcus. It was the same nightmare over and over again.

“You should pull some cards for her, Ev,” Victoria said, tossing my sample deck toward me. I could lie, but the cards wouldn’t. Why the hell Victoria wanted me to pull for Raelynn, I couldn’t understand. Was she taunting me? Testing me?

I nearly dropped the cards multiple times as I shuffled the deck. Maybe I could warn Raelynn, somehow. Even if I couldn’t tell her directly, even if the Deep One kept me tongue-tied, there had to be a way.

I smiled, and as steadily as I could, I said, “Come a little closer, Raelynn.”

There was an eager smile on her face as she stepped closer to the table.

“It’s Rae,” she said. “I mean, my friends call me Rae. You can call me Rae.”

“Rae.” I repeated her name with intention, with purpose. A name carried power, and even with my magic entirely inaccessible to me, I hoped she could somehow feel my warning. “I like that. Somewhere between masculine and feminine.”

If only I had been blessed with the gift of telepathy, or any form of psychic power at all. If I could implant the idea in her brain that there was danger here and she needed to leave, perhaps it would be enough. Concentrating my thoughts toward her, I tried to somehow impart my message.

You’re in danger. You need to leave. You can’t trust Victoria. You can’t trust any of us. Leave. Leave. Leave.

But instead of telepathically implanting a message, I received one in return. It was only a split second, the briefest of visions. But it was undeniable.

It was a vision of Raelynn’s hands, with her chipped black nail polish, holding the grimoire. My grimoire.

Nearly gasping, I barely kept my reaction under control. How was that possible? Why? When? This woman who’d only just arrived in town, who didn’t have a damn clue what was going on, had my grimoire?

Setting my cards back on the table, I cleared my mind, discarding the fear and the confusion. Those feelings couldn’t help me right now and they couldn’t help Raelynn either. If I was to warn her, then I needed the cards to be true even if my tongue couldn’t be. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the first card.

The Tower.

My eyes darted to Victoria, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy nursing whatever liquor she had in that water bottle of hers.

Laying the card on the table, I explained, “Change. The life you knew, your strong tower, has been dramatically changed. It is no more.” I wanted to tell her about the chaos this card could signify, but I could only hope the flames consuming it were enough to get the message across.

As I reached for the next card, a chill went up my back. A whisper? Or just the wind? My neck prickled. My fingers twitched. The murmuring of the crowd created a constant background of conversation and laughter, so I forced my attention back to the deck.

The next card was the Ten of Swords. How could I dare to explain this with Victoria standing right there?

Betrayal was coming. Someone Raelynn trusted would stab her in the back.

Picking up the next card, another cold chill washed over me. Something felt wrong. Like the onset of food poisoning; my body knew something vile was inside it.

Rip her open, dig your hands into the warm entrails, let the blood soak beneath your fingernails just like your mother, just like your filthy whore mother!

The card almost slipped out of my fingers.

Another customer asked me for a price, and I leapt to help her immediately. But I left the final card face-up, hoping desperately that the sight of Death would be enough to impart a warning to Rae.

The three women left as I fumbled through the sale, my panic rising with every second. What the hell was happening to me? No matter how deep of a breath I took, it didn’t feel adequate. My skin was clammy and cold. Even when I sat in my chair again, my head kept spinning.

Raelynn Lawson had the grimoire. When I concentrated on that thought, I was overwhelmed with mental images of Rae picking the grimoire out of a pile of books, Inaya wrapping it in brown paper, Rae’s fingers tracing the pages.

Never had I experienced a psychic premonition like that.

I needed to get out of here, I needed to go now. I had to find out where Rae lived and get the damn thing back. I had to warn her, I had to do something.

They would kill her. They’d sacrifice her, take the grimoire, and then there would be nothing to stop the Libiri from making the final sacrifice. Nothing to stop them from setting the God free, and nothing to stand in Its way as It infested my mind, took over my body, and claimed my power for Itself.

My power…my power. Even if I couldn’t control it, it was there. It was within me, and this God was ravenous for it.

It came again. The intrusive thoughts, the visions, the bloodlust.

She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine! Bring her to me!

Gasping for air, I shoved myself to my feet. My vision was fuzzy at the edges. There were whispers all around. And the screaming…God, the screaming, as if a crowd of hundreds was in the woods, yelling until their throats were raw.

Feeling as if I was walking through waist-deep water, I stumbled away. Nearly blind, I shoved through the crowd, trying to keep my thoughts focused. Get back to the house. Dig up the map. Hike to the coven house before the sun goes down.

The sun was setting. Dusk was already here.

“Everly. Everly!”

My head was swimming. The sound of my name was so far away. The faces of the crowd blurred sickeningly as I stumbled through them, single-minded determination keeping my feet moving as my brain disconnected.

“Callum,” I whispered, the crowd blurring before my eyes. “Please, Callum, please find me…”

Get home. Get the map. Run.

It would be dark. The Eld would be hunting. I had no way to defend myself.

Home. Map. Run.

There was no other choice.

“Everly!”

A hand closed tightly around my upper arm, jerking me back, and I screamed in alarm before my father’s face filled my vision.

“Come with me.” He dragged me, my feet tangling as I stumbled to follow. The screaming in my head wouldn’t stop, and it made it impossible to hear him. Something about the sacrifice. Something about Jeremiah.

Raelynn. Something about Raelynn.