Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy)
Soul of a Witch: Chapter 8

Callum’s hand was warm around mine. The contact between us was the only thing I could focus on as he led me through the halls and down several short flights of stairs.

I couldn’t recall the last time I’d held someone’s hand. The last time I’d been embraced or kissed.

I’d never even been intimate with another person.

Isolating myself was habitual. Any friendship I formed ran the risk of dragging someone innocent into a horrific underworld they didn’t deserve to be exposed to.

As if he could read my mind, Callum’s fingers tightened around my own.

“Don’t scare yourself,” he said. “Remember the sigil. If I misbehave, make me regret it.” He winked at me, and that simple gesture turned up the heat on my already flushed skin.

He’d proven himself to be beautiful and charming. Perhaps not entirely sane…but charming.

Oh, God, what was wrong with me? Demons weren’t charming; they were predators, tricksters! For all I knew, this one was leading me to my slaughter.

We didn’t encounter any wraiths as we made our way through the house, but I could hear them. Distant shrieks echoed in the hallways, setting my teeth on edge and making the hairs stand up on my arms.

“How do all these plants stay alive?” I said, marveling at the number of potted plants we encountered. Many of them were so large they were sprawling from their pots, roots bursting out and tendrils crawling up the walls, encircling the windows in their search for sunlight.

“The land this house is built on is protected,” Callum said. “Not only by me, but also by other beings who struck deals with the coven throughout the years. The plants are connected to the forest itself. They’re part of the barrier that hides this place from unfriendly eyes.”

We reached an area of the house that looked different from the rest. The walls and floors were stone instead of wood, the ceiling high and arched like an ancient cathedral. It was colder here, and I shivered slightly in my thin blouse. Callum led me down another series of short stairways into a wide corridor that ended with a set of tall, narrow glass doors.

His fingers loosened, pulling away. My grip tightened, and he looked back at me in surprise.

“Oh, shit — sorry.” I immediately winced at my apology, snatching my hand away. But I regretted the absence of his touch. It was ridiculous. Foolish, even.

However, the way he was looking at me, it was like he regretted it too. It was a little glimpse of the monster he’d been last night; suddenly eager, suddenly ravenous. The way a starving man looked at a feast he’d been told not to touch.

He stepped closer, leaning down so he could stare directly into my face. It was unnerving to look into those black eyes, even more so when I realized he wasn’t breathing.

Did demons need to breathe? Did their heart need to beat, their blood pump, their organs function? Or was it all an illusion, an elaborate costume they put on for Earth and nothing more?

Against my better judgment, I looked down. Down, toward his unbuttoned trousers, toward that one crucial part of him that almost certainly needed blood flow to function.

Or perhaps he was always that hard. Damn, it was like a fifth limb down there. Was that normal?

He made a soft sound as he smirked, two fingers tapping lightly beneath my chin to encourage me to lift my gaze.

His voice was a dark, crooning whisper as he said, “If you apologize to me again, I’ll eat you.” He leaned even closer, so close I could feel the heat of his skin. “I will eat you slowly. I will savor every inch of flesh and suck every tender morsel. I’ll savor you like a goddamn dessert.”

His teeth clipped together on the final word, and he turned away, proceeding toward the doors. But I was unable to move, unable to think a single comprehensible thought, as the heat of a thousand suns drenched me in a blush to end all blushes.

His snapping fingers brought me back to reality.

“Don’t fall behind, my lady.”

Barely biting back another apology, I trotted after him.

The tall glass doors swung out as we approached, opening into a courtyard. Flat gray stones lined the crescent-shaped space, and bushes covered with white and yellow flowers bordered the walkway. A massive greenhouse stood at the far end of the courtyard; its blue-tinted glass covered with thick creeping vines.

The rain was still pouring, splattering across the stones and forming little puddles.

“Stay close,” Callum said, his arm brushing lightly against my own. The touch was so quick, so casual, yet it was as stark and shocking as if he’d slapped me.

We stepped outside, and I braced for the cold downpour, but it never hit me. The rain simply slid around us as if we were holding a large umbrella. I looked up to replace a translucent dome above us, colored faintly purple and iridescent. The rain struck it and rolled off, and I gaped in amazement.

“Is that aether?” I whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

Aether was a magical substance, naturally occurring, invisible and nearly impossible to control. It was strange and malleable, full of potential. It could allow a witch to create something out of nothing, like a pull a needle out of thin air.

“Yes, it is.” The demon glanced at me, a smirk curving his lips. Damn it all, he knew I was impressed. I cleared my throat and nodded, focusing on the path ahead.

A massive tree had grown over the greenhouse door, its sprawling roots sitting on top of the stones. The trunk was gnarled and bent in a way that made it appear like a man was trapped within the wood, his head resting at the apex of the long branches.

“Is there another way in?” I said.

Callum was looking at the tree with a frown.

“No. If this entrance is guarded, the other one will be as well.”

“Guarded?” I stepped toward the tree, laying my hand against the wood. It was surprisingly warm. “You mean the tree is guarding it on purpose? It didn’t simply grow here?”

“Woodspries do not grow without intention, woman.”

The voice was melodic but deep, with a timbre that hinted at a clever tongue and wicked mischief.

The tree moved. The human face I’d seen within it was real. The eyes blinked, the head lifted, a torso and arms melted out of the wood. The man in the tree leaned toward me, his eyes like orbs of sap and his pupils like tiny clustered seeds. He had no flesh — he was made of the wood itself, his upper body leaning out of the trunk like a serpent.

Callum regarded him coldly, but the man in the tree only had eyes for me.

“Well, well,” he said, repeating the word nearly a dozen times before he inhaled and darted his face toward me. Callum’s arm shot out and braced against my chest, forcing me back several steps at the wooden man’s sudden movement. I wasn’t sure which was more alarming: the being in the tree or the demon’s touch.

“Who seeks entry here?” the tree man said, amber eyes roaming over me greedily. “A witch and her demon, peculiar, peculiar, hmm…there hasn’t been a witch here in a long time, eh? Has there?” He looked off to the side, nodding as if someone else was speaking to him. “Ah, yes, yes. No witches have been here in a great many years…ten, fifteen, twenty…” His gaze slid back over to me. “Except the dead ones.”

“Who are you?” I said. What had he called himself? A Woodsprie?

“I have been called Darragh by some,” the creature said. “Not a very clever witch, are you? Never even heard of a Woodsprie.” He made a sound as if he’d sharply clicked his tongue. “Terrible. What are they teaching these days?”

“I think you forget, Darragh, how rare your kind is now,” Callum said dryly.

Darragh rolled his eyes over to him, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Oh yes, how dare I forget,” he said. “The slaughter of my kind. Humans love to cut us down. Cutting, burning, chopping. Laying waste to the forests we once protected. It will destroy them, one day. When the last Woodsprie is dead, Earth will die, too.” His gaze darted back to me; his expression suddenly sharper, suspicious. “Who are you?”

I took a deep breath. Time to see if I could indeed claim a little power.

“I’m Everly Laverne,” I said, mustering as much confidence into my voice as I could. “I am the daughter of Heidi Laverne, the granddaughter of Winona. And I need entry, if you would allow me.”

“He will,” Callum said, and the Woodsprie’s head twitched.

“Everly Laverne,” Darragh repeated my name slowly. He extended his hand, palm up. “Very well. Let us see.” I wasn’t sure what he wanted until he added, “Your hand, witch.”

I thought he meant to read my palm, to see my identity laid out in the fragile lines of my skin. I placed my hand in his, replaceing him warm but gentle as he drew me closer. His amber eyes were so strange, liquid and glassy. He brought his head down, tracing his nose close to my hand as he sniffed.

“So sweet. A truly intoxicating scent, isn’t it?” I didn’t know if he was asking me or simply musing, so I said nothing. He lifted his head and his lips drew back, revealing rows of teeth…no, not teeth.

Thorns. Thick, sharp, white thorns filled his mouth.

Before I realized what was happening, he put my finger into his mouth. There was a sharp pain as he bit down, and I tried to pull away but his hold was inescapable. Callum growled beside me as something like a tongue swirled over my finger, stroking my skin. The pain was already forgotten as Darragh’s mouth suckled around me.

My face was reddening again, but this was more than just a blush. Heat poured through my veins, settling in my abdomen as Darragh met my eyes, slowly withdrawing my finger from his mouth.

“What was that?” I said softly, clutching my hand close the moment he let me go. There was a tiny wound on my fingertip, like a puncture from a thick needle, and blood leaked out.

“I needed a little taste,” he said, humming as he swallowed. The tree shuddered, from its branches to its roots, and Darragh gasped. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he opened them again, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, that is good. Well, well, Everly Laverne. You are who you say. You may enter. And please, don’t hesitate to come to me if you need any further assistance.” He smiled again, and I could see where my blood had stained one of his thorny teeth. He leaned back as the tree rippled, roots slithering like snakes as the entire structure moved to the side, opening our way into the greenhouse.

“Thank you, Darragh,” I said, nodding my head to him as I passed. Callum was right behind me, but instead of following me through the doorway, his hand snapped out and gripped the Woodsprie’s throat.

The tree’s roots tightened, writhing on the ground. The bushes rustled, even the grass and the flowers shuddered. From deep within the greenhouse came a groan, like a beam of wood about to split as Callum’s claws dug into Darragh’s wooden throat.

“Touch her like that again, and I’ll rip your roots off your body and burn you alive.” Callum’s voice was a snarl that reverberated around the courtyard, vibrating in the stones beneath my feet. My head pounded, atmospheric pressure rapidly changing and making my ears pop.

Darragh hissed, but his voice was simpering as he said, “I could drink your blood too, demon, if you so desire. No need for jealousy.”

Callum narrowed his eyes.

“Consider yourself lucky she enjoyed it,” he said, releasing the Woodsprie with a scoff before stalking ahead of me into the greenhouse. Darragh kept smiling with all those sharp teeth as he melted back into the trunk of his tree, then disappeared.