Page 82 of Witchbane
A shadow moved through the trees, coming closer, human in shape, yet dark, very dark. Under the light of the moon, I couldn’t make out much until he got to the clearing. And for a few seconds I had a burst of joy thinking it was someone… a glimpse of blond hair, but the face lost in shadows. But as this man stepped closer, his hair was dark.
He smiled at me, wide with a lot of teeth, the charming smile of a man who knew his looks meant something, but it felt… fake? And I was temporarily lost in confusion. He was familiar, yet it was wrong that he was there at all. It actually took my brain a few seconds to add the face to a name.
“Felix?” The name fell from my lips in a breathy sigh that had nothing to do with want, and a whole lot to do with fear.
He crossed the open space, headed my way. A memory of something dark, terrifying, monstrous, face emaciated, fangs beyond anything I’d ever seen from even a werewolf, and long spindly fingers tipped in dagger-like claws reaching for me. Then it was back to him again, human, smiling, handsome.
Wrong. Something was very wrong.
“Baby,” he said, reaching out a hand for me as he got closer. “I’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?”
The spindly monster hand appeared again, layered over the human one, and it was too much. I could barely breathe. The panic rose up fast; I couldn’t help but flee. I flipped backward, rolling away from him and finding my feet like I’d performed some fancy martial arts move.
Instinct riding me, I turned and ran. I knew if he touched me, things would go south fast. I needed to get to my camper, the wards would keep him out, I’d strengthened the wards. Layered them one upon another like some delicate puff pastry design only a master baker could create. Yet much stronger.
The vivid imagery of a bakery welled up in my mind, counters, ovens, a proofing room, and a bakery case filled with treats as the decadent smell of bread surrounded me. Again it was swatted away by something, stolen even as I heard someone call my name.
Seb.
I blinked away the memory, trying to focus on my wards. I had to find something solid. And my camper was the only thing I could think of that had that sort of stability. How had I known to layer wards?
The wards in my head, the sudden mass of symbols that I had memorized, seemed too much, more than what I could remember studying. And I could recall that I’d etched some in ink on my arms. But when I glanced at my arms, they were still bare, blank, a canvas waiting to be filled.
Wrong. Missing. Void.
I stumbled, hearing Felix behind me, and confused as to why the camper was so far away. The clearing hadn’t been. A few dozen yards at most, and yet as I ran, I couldn’t seem to find it. Not my camper, or the garden, or even the path toApa’s house. It was all gone. Had I run in the wrong direction?
I tripped, falling hard, landing with stinging force on my hands and knees. Too close to that last memory. Almost enough to feel the blood pouring from me. The mental scream for help echoed from inside, powerful enough it felt like a roar.
Was this a dream?
It didn’t feel like a dream. My knees stung from hitting the ground and blood welled up on my palms, sliced in places from small rocks and aching with dirt. Dreams didn’t hurt like this.
Claws thudded into a tree behind me, tearing through wood like the sound of an axe hitting the trunk. The canopy shook, scattering leaves all around, and my heart raced in terror while I climbed to my feet, ready to run.
You promised you wouldn’t run.
The words caressed over me in a soothing heat. At first it burned hot. I thought I’d burst into flames at any second, then it began to settle, a glowing warmth, soothing back some of the terror even as pieces of the puzzle plunked into place with all the delicacy of a mallet smashing into my skull.
Felix was dead. Underhill was dead. I was alone. The last made me want to die.
You are the death of us all. This was not the soothing voice, but something intrusive that made me snarl and rise up to swipe at it like I had claws. My fox screaming danger, only there was something else there, wasn’t there? Inside. Something bigger? Reaching for it was like swimming against the tide, someone or something shoving me down beneath the waves while I fought not to drown. It told me to run, that only by running could I escape. But I wouldn’t run. I had promised someone.
Who?
Seb.
The voice sounded familiar and yet I couldn’t break through the barrier keeping him veiled from my memory.Mine, my gut said. I’d promised him I wouldn’t run. Not without him.
I turned toward the woods, trees looking snarled and not at all normal, more like the twisted landscape of Underhill. Only this wasn’t Underhill. That was gone too. Destroyed, absorbed, reborn…
Daddy?
I heard the small voice like they were standing beside me, and suddenly felt a small hand in my grasp. I looked down to find the little red-haired child with one blue eye, one brown.
A sharp spike of pain arched through my brow, piercing pain behind my eyes, sending me to my knees again, and I gasped for air as suddenly blood burst from my nose in a hot rush. Everything hurt.
“Daddy?”The child tugged on my hand until I turned their way. A small hand stroked my cheek. I wanted to push them away, worried my blood would get all over them. But there was no blood on those tiny fingers, and the wide eyes were worried.“Wake up now.”