Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy)
Soul of a Witch: Chapter 3

Earth – Present Day

Fog rolled around my ankles like ocean waves. The forest was dark, but moonlight fell through the pine needles in broken shafts. The dirt was cool beneath my bare feet as I walked, aimless, beneath the trees.

The night was silent. The creatures of the woods fled before me; the crickets’ song fell silent.

My prey was close. Her breathing was harsh, quick with terror. Her steps were loud and clumsy. She shot panicked glances over her shoulder, growing more frantic every time she saw me.

No matter how fast she ran, it would not be fast enough.

Her boot caught on a tree root, and she tripped, sprawling to the ground. She pushed herself up, facing me, whispering frantically, “Please, Everly. Please, don’t do this.”

Her glasses had cracked in the fall. Her palms were bloody as she held them up pleadingly.

My chest was hollow and cold. Something was scratching at the inside of my skull, pressing at the back of my eyes. A voice whispered in my head, harsh and demanding, “Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.”

The knife in my hand caught the moonlight and glinted. I knew what I needed to do.

“Please, Everly!” Tears streamed down her face. “You need to remember. It’s important, please, you need to remember.”

I stood over her, tipping my head slowly to the side. Her blood would paint this forest. It would be my greatest work of art.

“Sybil knows the way,” she whispered. She said it again. And again.

Her words grew faster. They ran together.

My ears were ringing. My lungs ached. The scratching in my skull wouldn’t stop.

I needed it to stop.

I lifted the knife, and she didn’t react. She just kept whispering.

“Your blood will feed this soil, Raelynn,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like my own.

She instantly fell silent. Her eyes were wide, and she was still as stone. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth. Wide. Too wide. Her jaw audibly popped out of place, and she screamed –

I jolted awake.

My sketchbook slipped off my lap, hitting the wood floor with a thud. Colored pencils rolled away from me across the desk, falling to the ground one by one before I could scramble to grab them.

“Shit – damn it!” I slammed my head on the desk as I tried to crawl underneath to grab them. For a moment, I sat there on the floor, rubbing my head and feeling sorry for myself.

It was late. The library would be closing any minute. Damn it, I must have been asleep for hours. With a heavy sigh, I collected my fallen items and crawled to my feet, before putting everything away into my bag.

The university library was quiet; the only sound was the rain as it streaked down the large stained-glass window over the entry doors. My head ached, but the memory of my nightmare was already fading. All that remained was that name.

Raelynn. Who the hell was Raelynn?

The semester wouldn’t start for another couple of weeks, but I’d spent most of my summer here in the library regardless. I adored the dusty-vanilla scent of the books. I loved the hidden alcoves, vaulted ceiling, and muted light from the old sconces lining the walls.

It was my haven, my little taste of freedom; a glimpse into all the wonders of the world that lay waiting for me.

Waiting for me to get away.

I was on the library’s second floor, overlooking the entryway below, surrounded by tall shelves and scattered desks. One of my pencils had rolled out of my reach, and I narrowed my eyes as I extended my hand toward it. I envisioned it rolling toward me, back to the foot of my seat so I could pick it up.

It didn’t even wiggle.

Trying to use magic was like stretching a stiff muscle, or writing with my left hand. It required intense focus, and even then, my control was weak at best.

Gritting my teeth, I curled my fingers as if to draw the pencil toward me.

The pencil flew from the floor, spearing through the air. It pierced into the wall behind me, barely missing my head as I ducked. Shit. I hurriedly yanked the pencil from the wall and winced when I saw the hole it left behind.

Hopefully, no one would notice.

It was late enough that I’d surely missed the last bus. I would need to jog back home in the dark. Most people around here would never dare go out alone after sunset, but I didn’t mind it anymore. If I stayed on the road, I would likely be fine.

If I wasn’t…there would be one final nightmare before it was all over.

A nearby footstep made me jump, but I sighed in relief when William Frawley rounded the bookshelves, a curious look on his bespectacled face. He was one of the librarians, and could usually be found sitting behind the crescent-shaped desk in the entryway, nose buried in a book.

“Are you okay?” he said. “I heard a noise.”

“I bumped my knee,” I said, wincing and rubbing the appendage to give credit to my lie. “Sorry. Did I disturb anyone?”

“No one is left to disturb.” He chuckled lightly, holding up his keyring. “I was just about to start locking up.”

“Ah, damn it, I stayed late again. Sorry.” With haste, I shoved the last of my things haphazardly into my bag. “I have a stack of books downstairs too, if it isn’t too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all.” His eyes fell on my drawing pad, and he picked it up before I could stuff it into my bag. I’d been sketching the stained-glass window, the colorful panes glowing with the light of the setting sun. “Is this what you’ve been working on up here?” I nodded, and his smile widened. “It’s beautiful.”

As I took the sketchbook from his hands, I said, “Mama used to talk about how much she wanted to paint it. She loved that window. How the sun shone through it, the colors. She always said it was like magic.”

William’s smile turned sheepish, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Ev. I didn’t mean to…”

“It doesn’t make me sad to bring up my mom,” I assured him, smiling gently as I put the book into my bag. “It’s been five years. It’s okay.”

Five years since she left this Earth. Five years since she vanished from my life. Five years alone.

It was okay, even though the writhing anxiety inside me said otherwise.

“I’ll let you get back to locking up,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Can I use the self-checkout for my books?”

“Of course. Oh, uh – Everly?”

“Yeah?” I stopped at the top of the stairway. Will awkwardly coughed.

“Some friends and I are going to take the ferry to Seattle this weekend,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat. “We’re going to a place called Unicorn Bar. Seems like somewhere you might like, so I…uh…was wondering…”

My stomach churned. I plastered an apologetic smile on my face. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m helping my dad at the Historical Society this weekend. I promised him.” Shrugging helplessly, I added, “I hope you have fun though!”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s – that’s totally okay. Yeah, of course. Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you later!” He waved, his face bright red.

“See you!” I left him with a wave, making a hasty exit down the stairs. I kept up my smile until I was out of his sight.

I’d had plenty of experience putting on masks, fitting into whatever role was required of me. At twenty-three, I could lie more easily than tell the truth.

Will was kind. Sweet, polite. The kind of guy I would have liked to take a ferry ride to Seattle with.

But that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t allowed.

While most young adults my age were planning to move away from Abelaum and replace better opportunities in Seattle or Tacoma, I’d made no such plans. I couldn’t. Even if I started walking and never looked back, Abelaum would never release its hold on me.

My father, and his God, wouldn’t let me go.

Mama had warned me. Her final words, scribbled on a note I found tucked beneath my pillow the morning her body was discovered, told me the truth she hadn’t been able to utter in life.

I am the betrayer. I let Juniper go and shielded her from the demon’s sight. This rot cannot be allowed to spread. Take back your power or the Deep One will consume all that you are and make you Its vessel. Sybil knows the way.

That was all she’d written. Like the ravings of a mad woman.

The nightmares started after she died. Her suicide, and the letter she left me, ripped my life apart and left me raw. No longer did I simply fear the suffering my father and his cult would inflict on others; now, I knew exactly how much suffering was intended for me.

The Deep One needed a vessel. Mama claimed the vessel would be me. My magic, no matter how wild and untrained, would provide the God with the power It needed when It eventually emerged from Its resting place.

There was no way in hell I would accept that fate. No matter what it took, no matter how much it hurt or how terrified I was, I would rather follow my mother to her grave than become a mindless meat puppet for an ancient deity.

Unfortunately, I had no idea who “Sybil” was, nor how to escape from the God. Her name haunted me, a ghost in my dreams. With every passing night, my nightmares grew more frequent, more vivid. Sometimes, I feared they weren’t dreams at all.

They felt too real.

A sharp pain pierced into the back of my skull, like a needle jabbing my spine. Wincing, I squeezed my eyes shut, stumbling forward until I was able to grip the handrail along the stairs.

My palms were cold with sweat. My eyes moved rapidly behind my closed lids, twitching and rolling outside of my control.

Whispers surrounded me. Angry imperceptible words sent shivers over my arms. A heavy presence loomed over me, filling me with terror.

It would pass. I just had to breathe, focus on the here and now. The smooth wood beneath my fingers, the pouring rain, the distant murmur of conversation and soft turning of pages. I had to remember where I was. Who I was. Why I was…

My phone vibrated in my pocket, snapping me out of the fog. My eyes flew open, a soft gasp bursting out of me. Rapidly blinking my eyes to get them back into focus, I noticed a text from Jeremiah.

Wrap it up. Me and the guys are bailing soon.

Crap. Dad must have told him I was on campus today. Being stuck in Jeremiah’s cramped car with him and his friends was the last thing I wanted to do. Father had been out all day, and he kept my car keys locked in his office, so I’d jogged here earlier and planned to take the bus back home.

As I reached the carrels on the first floor and the stack of books I’d left there, the back of my neck tingled yet again.

“Hi, Everly.”

Marcus Kynes waved as he approached, a small and uncertain smile on his face. “You’re here late. Need a ride?”

Marcus captained the university’s soccer team now — the same team Jeremiah played for. The two of them had become close over the years. After Juniper was sent away to a psychiatric hospital, Jeremiah took the younger man under his wing.

Father wanted us to keep Marcus close. God wouldn’t accept another failure.

Marcus would have been better off staying far away from our family. Still, I was grateful for the opportunity to avoid riding home with my brother.

“A ride would be great, thank you. I just need to check out my books.”

Our breath formed clouds in the cold night air as we walked from the library toward the student parking lot. Abelaum University was a relic hidden among the trees; an architectural beauty built when the mining town was first booming. Its gothic towers reached as tall as the pines, its stone pathways were carpeted in moss and its gray walls cloaked with ivy. When classes were in session, the windows lining its halls would glow in the night like beacons. But tonight, the multiple old buildings that made up the school were dark, save for the library behind us.

One day, despite everything, my studies would be my ticket out of here. Being a History Major wasn’t typically viewed as a recipe for success, but I didn’t care. Someday I would leave Abelaum, I would leave Washington; perhaps, I would even leave the country. The God’s whispers in my head would disappear, the constant fear of pain and retribution would vanish.

I’d seek a job. I wanted to research ancient languages, surround myself with the beauty and horror of history. Humanity was shaped by our past; all of us were the latest manifestation of a long line of human choices.

Some of us were manifested by choices that were far more wicked than others.

“It was Juniper’s birthday last week,” Marcus said suddenly. “I wanted to call her, but I guess her number was disconnected after they let her out of the hospital.”

We splashed through puddles as we walked, and I pulled up the hood of my jacket to defend against the rain.

And to hide my face from him.

“My mom never wants to talk about it either,” he said, when I gave no response. “No one does. Everyone just gets uncomfortable when I bring her up.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus,” I said slowly, but he shook his head.

“I get it. Especially after the accusations she made against your family. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He sounded so sad. Confused. “I’ve just been missing her lately. I never really got to say good-bye before she left.”

A familiar voice called out ahead of us. Marcus raised his hand in greeting at the three men walking toward us, and I stifled a groan.

“Look at you being a gentleman and protecting my sister, Marcus,” Jeremiah teased, as he and his friends — Sam and Nick — approached us. “Don’t worry about her though. No one is going to try to kidnap this freak.”

Marcus stopped walking to talk to them, but I didn’t bother. I headed for the road, determined to walk regardless of the risk. But Jeremiah grabbed my arm as I tried to get past him, pulling me back.

“Hey, woah, don’t rush off, sis.” He said that term of endearment like it was an insult.

“Let go,” I said. My fingertips tingled — a subtle warning that I might lose control. “I’m going home.”

“I need you and Marcus to help me with something first,” he said, as Nick and Sam nodded in agreement.

“I can help you out,” Marcus said. “No problem.”

“Great.” Jeremiah smiled; his eyes locked on me in warning. No one could ever call my half-brother nice, but there was something genuinely mean in his smile. Something that made me feel like I needed to run.

He tugged on my arm, pulling me close to him as he walked us back toward campus. “I told Coach Shelby I’d grab a couple boxes for him. He said they’re in the 2nd floor storage room in Calgary Hall. Almost forgot to do it.”

Sam laughed. He sounded high as a kite, whereas Nick had his hood up and his hands shoved into his pockets. I tried to pull my arm out of Jeremiah’s grip, but instead of fighting with me, he put his arm around my shoulders instead. He dropped his voice, leaned close to my ear, and hissed, “Just do your duty, Everly.”

Panic tightened like a vice around my lungs. My trembling hands were so hot, like fire was trying to burn its way out from under my skin.

I willed myself to calm down. I had to maintain control.

If I broke — if the prickling heat swelling in my chest was allowed to keep growing — I truly had no idea how much chaos I could unleash.

We ascended the steps into Calgary Hall. The interior was dark and cold, our footsteps echoing off the stone floors. The doors clicked shut behind us, cutting off the sounds of the crickets chirping and the breeze moving through the trees.

It was silent as a grave.

Jeremiah released my arm and placed his finger over his lips in warning. My world felt as if it were tipping on its axis as Nick handed Jeremiah a knife he pulled from beneath his jacket. Despite the dim light, everything around me was glowing, shimmering with a violet glow of magic.

My control was fragile. Like a balloon about to burst.

Jeremiah turned toward Marcus. My vision tunneled. Time slowed.

The Deep One’s demands had to be met. Three souls had to be given. That was our duty. That was worship. It was faith.

But when Jeremiah lifted the knife, I screamed.

Everything happened too fast. Sam grabbed me, restraining me as Jeremiah and Nick grappled Marcus to the floor. Sam tried to cover my mouth, but I bit his hand, squeezing my teeth down until I tasted blood, and he struck the back of my head.

“Fucking Christ, you little psycho!” He kept hitting, and I kept struggling, unclenching my jaw only when the force of his blows made me dizzy.

“Jeremiah, stop!” My voice broke as it echoed off the walls. “Not like this, please, don’t!”

He straddled Marcus as Nick pinned his arms above his head. Jeremiah cut the blade through Marcus’s shirt, moving in a terrifying slow and methodical pattern as his victim yelled, his legs kicking uselessly.

His cries turned ragged with pain as Jeremiah carved the ritual marks into his chest. Jeremiah was giggling like a child with a new toy, his smile widening every time Marcus struggled, every time his cries of pain grew more desperate.

“You know what’s funny, Kynes?” Jeremiah said, bringing his face close to the other man’s and dragging the blade slowly across his cheek. “Your crazy sister was right. She was right about everything.”

Heartbreaking realization made the pain melt from Marcus’s face. He looked over at me, and I choked on a sob, an unanswered question lingering in his eyes.

Why?

Jeremiah raised the knife over his head and plunged it into Marcus’s chest. Marcus made a small sound, the air knocked out of him. I struggled harder, flailing against Sam’s hold until my shoe hit something slick, and I slipped, sending both of us to the ground.

The knife came down again.

Again.

Again.

I was going to break.

Blood seeped across the floor, staining the edge of my dress. Sam’s breath smelled vile as it wafted in my face, his grip on my arms tight enough to bruise.

The heat inside me was rising, faster and faster. I didn’t have control.

Flashes of purple and orange bloomed behind my eyelids as I squeezed my eyes shut tight. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t here. I was somewhere else, somewhere quiet and safe. I couldn’t watch this happen again, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t, I couldn’t —

The pressure, the unbearable heat, burst open inside me. For a moment, I was nothing: floating, flying, bodiless. As irreverently free as a gust of wind.

My eyes remained closed as a waft of cold air sent a shiver up my back. My cheek was lying against something prickly, and the scent of damp soil filled my nose.

I opened my eyes.