Page 4 of The Witch and His Crow
‘Is…she gone?’ The child choked out, voice shivering.
‘For now, my son. You did it, you’ve slain the Grand High. Now, we burn her body, soBahmetcan never damn another soul again.’
By the timethe shadow being released me, the Hunters were long gone. I stepped free from the shadows, fire reflecting off my eyes, the heat hissing over my skin.
Because there, inches before the fireplace, both my parents lay, bodies encased in flame and melted flesh. Father’s skull is caved in, the oozing brain matter leaking across our rattan rug.But it was the clean slice across his neck that had clearly ended his life.
Mother looked peaceful, hands laid beside her punctured chest, a bloodied athame—a ritual dagger—discarded on the floor beside her. The fire crept over her legs, devouring skin and catching on her blue floral dress.
Beneath the roaring flames and the crackling skin, I paced towards the knife and picked it up. The bone handle was still warm, not from the fire but from the child who had held it, the child who had driven it into my mother over and over.
I turned the handle, knowing the symbol was going to be waiting for me before I saw it. The crucifix captured within the circle—the mark of a witch hunter.
My little hands tightened, knuckles paling to the hue of fresh snow.
‘Come, child, I shall protect you.’
I turned around, ready to face the monster who waited for me. What I found was a crow, perched on the mantle above the fireplace, studying me. I knew without doubt that it was the crow who spoke to me.
It opened its wings, shadows spilling from its feathers as it flapped and cawed. This time, I didn’t need to be pushed into the dark. I stepped into it willingly, finally accepting the creature who’d swaddled me as my parents were murdered.
The darkness reached out once again, embracing me assomething feralwormed its way out of my heart. It crept out from the fine cracks, freeing itself.
It was hatred, it was anger but mostly, it washunger.
Hunger for revenge.
Hunger for death.
Hunger for the Hunters.
CHAPTER ONE
There were only two reasons I would bother stepping into club Energy. One: for a double vodka and cranberry juice, light ice. And reason two, the far more common: cock.
Sometimes I would be lucky and get both, but in all honesty, I’d be happy with just the drink. But tonight, there was a third reason I passed beneath the glowing neon sign, paid the extortionate five-pound entry fee, and dealt with the usual scrutiny from the bouncer.
Witch Hunters. Three of them, who I’d been stalking since I unfortunately bumped into them at dusk. Not unfortunate for me, but for them. They wouldn’t be leaving Energy with a pulse.
‘Usual?’ The good-looking barman said, bicep curling the pully as though he was doing reps at the gym. His tone was flirtatious, almost hopeful. I barely spared him a glance when I nodded. Mainly because I couldn’t take my eyes off the Hunters as they took their seats in one of the booths at the back of the club.
It took no time for a tall glass to be passed over the sticky bar, red juice spilling over the rim.
‘Thanks, Jon,’ I muttered distractedly, transfixed by my thirst for vengeance.
‘My name is Alex,’ Not-Jon replied, as though I should know that. Which I probably should have. One more look and I realised that I’d either been fucked orhadfucked him. Flipping a coin to decide which was the answer was likely an easier bet.
‘Yes, of course.’ I flashed him an award-winning smile. ‘Alex. Sorry.’
Alex blushed with what only could be second-hand embarrassment. His brown eyes traced my outfit, drinking in my skinny black jeans, baggy knitted sweater, and unpolished Doc Martins. I’d never looked so out of place. While every else around me wore bright colours, showing skin painted in glitter, I looked more ready for glass of tea in some well-to-do establishment.
‘Bodleian Library is a few streets down,’ Alex chided, his attempt at flirting almost making me embarrassed.
Usually, I could cope with sarcasm. Hell, most of the time I was the king of it. But tonight, I was as unbothered as the girl in the club’s corner currently vomiting against the wall.
I handed over payment with a wink. ‘Yeah, thanks again,Jon.’
‘It’s Alex!’
