Page 95 of The Witch and His Crow
My only thought was she must’ve known that one day, despite her plans and hopes, I’d find myself here, partaking in the Witch Trials—and she wanted me to be prepared.
I blinked away the tears, catching them in my palm. A small puddle gathered in the centre, just as I wanted. Eleanor’s grimoire was beside me on the desk, turned to the table of symbols. The same that had once occupied my bedroom wall.
I took my finger and traced the symbol for water. A downturned triangle. I focused my intention on the symbol, whilst thinking only of the element it represented. It took practice to work. Unlike with air and fire, this element resisted me. Like a band pulling taut, threatening to break or snap back and hurt me.
My breathing evened as more tears fell down my face. It was like the only water I successfully conjured or controlled was that which pooled in my eyes.
Then I felt it. A shift. A spark. It was a sensation that rippled over my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand. In a blink, I was not only focused on the salty tears in my palm, but Iwasthe tears. They spun, gathering into a bullet-sized ball which hovered over my outstretched hand.
I held my breath, not wanting to break my concentration.
I didn’t hear the footsteps beyond the door until the sound of a lock clicked free. Panic made my concentration spike. I broke away from the orb of water, but instead of it splashing against my palm, it shot out ahead of me. Glass cracked, followed by my gasp. Webs formed across the pane of glass the water had just cut through. Then Arwyn kicked back into the room, panicked, wide eyes searching for what made the noise.
‘Are you alright?’ Arwyn was breathless. It was the most words he’d said to me since we left the bathroom earlier that morning. Despite my annoyance at him, I couldn’t help but ignore him and look behind where he stood. The hallway beyond was empty, meaning Romy still hadn’t been found. He read my body language and said, ‘I didn’t find her. She didn’t go back to the room.’
He lifted up a plate of food. ‘But I picked up some more supplies.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ I said, returning my gaze back to him.
‘You need to eat. Romy can’t hide forever.’
‘Nor can your voice apparently. Are we talking now?’
A flush spread across his face, like a band of heat. He knew exactly what I meant with my jibe. I waited for him to apologise or even to give me a good enough excuse as to why he’d fucked me then ignored me. Instead, Arwyn looked back to the smashed window.
‘Did you break that?’
I shrugged, picking up Eleanor’s grimoire and busying myself flicking through it. ‘Must’ve been a stone, or a bird.’
I could’ve told him about the old magic, but decided not to. If he was punishing me for something, then what right did he have to anything I deemed important?
Arwyn closed the door, exhaling loud enough for the mice in the walls to hear.
Not looking up from the grimoire, although I wasn’t focusing on anything in it, I decided to keep the conversation going. It was better than sitting in awkward silence, nor did I want to give Arwyn the impression he was bothering me with his reaction. ‘There are scrying spells in this which we could try.’
‘I’d rather not waste time on fables and myths,’ Arwyn said, audibly dismissing me. He hadn’t seen the magic Romy and I used to defend off the demons. He hadn’t even asked how I’d taken down a coven of witches by myself.
In fact, he didn’t really ask much about me.
‘Those myths and fables healed you,’ I said, ‘did you forget about that?’
‘Science, Hector.’ Arwyn paced towards the broken window and peered out. There was something heavy about his expression. From my vantage point, he looked exhausted. ‘Modern medicine relies on the combination of herbs and plants, and yet doctors don’t go round preaching magic. We were lucky.’
‘Youwere lucky,’ I snapped, reminding him that it was he who survived only because of Eleanor’s salve. ‘And you’re in a foul mood.’
‘No, I’m not.’
I laughed, unable to control myself. At this point I was flipping through the book without even looking at it. ‘Yes, yes you are. You know the majority of men I sleep with at least thank me afterwards. You’ve barely looked at me.’
To prove a point, Arwyn glared over his shoulder in my direction. It actually proved the opposite, because I caught the way he winced and his lip curled. It was like he was disgusted…
‘Do you know what,’ I said, feeling my body vibrate with fury. ‘Fuck you.’
‘Hector,’ Arwyn began to plead, but I didn’t let him get in another word.
I closed the space between us, lifted the grimoire and smacked it into his broad chest. ‘Don’t treat me like a stranger, Arwyn. Don’t you dare act like this. I’m not saying you owe me anything, and trust me when I say I don’t plan to make the mistake again. But if you really think you can do what you did to me back there, act the way you did, then turn around and punish me for it…’ I smacked him a second time with the grimoire. ‘Then fuck you.’
I couldn’t tell if I was frustrated with him, or if this was an amalgamation of all my emotions finally spilling out.
