Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy)

For the remainder of the evening, I explored the library. The sheer volume of books was astounding, and it wasn’t long until I amassed a stack of fascinating tomes. For hours, I was curled in one of the cushioned velvet chairs, consuming the literature like it was the only sustenance I needed.

At some point, food and drink appeared on the table beside me: a creamy bisque, mug of tea, and pitcher of water. Whether the house provided it or the demon brought it, I couldn’t be sure, but my stomach was satiated and so was my mind.

Callum made frequent appearances to check in on me, although he said very little and didn’t stay long. But he remained nearby; watching, lurking. I could feel his presence in the air, in tingling pressure that crept slowly up the back of my skull.

I had all the magical knowledge I could desire at my fingertips. I consumed books of spell craft until my head ached and my vision grew blurry, but I didn’t stop. There was a frantic need within me to absorb all the information I possibly could.

When I was too tired to sit upright anymore, I wandered out of the library in search of Callum, hoping he could escort me back to my room. But I only took a couple of steps down the hall, my arms full of books, before an open door caught my eye. Few doors were left open in this place; I couldn’t resist peeking inside.

It was a small sitting room. Nudging open the door with my shoulder, I stepped onto an elegant, plush rug covering the shining wood floor. A large fireplace was to my left, and the moment I stepped inside, the stack of wood within caught flame, swiftly chasing the chill from the room.

Velvet furniture was set before the fire; a chaise lounge and several chairs. To my right, on a slightly raised dais before a tall open window, was a grand piano.

Quietly closing the door behind me, I settled on the chaise lounge with my books. It wasn’t long before my tired eyes grew heavy, the steady rain lulling me into drowsiness.

Only when my book slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a heavy thud did my eyes suddenly fly open, finding the room dark and the fire burned low. Hours must have passed, but it wasn’t only the light that changed while I slept.

I wasn’t alone.

Moving slowly, so as not to make a sound, I turned my head. The curtains were drawn, but I could hear the rain tapping against the window and the distant rumble of thunder.

The chair beside the fireplace was occupied. Only the silhouette of massive wings was visible in the dark.

With half-lidded eyes, I stared at the dark shape, knowing he was staring back. Neither of us said a word, neither moved.

The demon inhaled slowly, and I resisted the urge to shrink down and close my eyes. My heart pounded as the chair creaked, and he rose, a looming specter that seemed to glide toward me.

It was so dark I couldn’t see his face. He reached for something, and a moment later, a soft heavy blanket draped over me.

“Your mind is restless.” The demon spoke softly, igniting goosebumps along my arms.

“It always is. I don’t usually sleep this much.”

I was used to long nights, aching eyes, and drowsy days. When the world was asleep, that was when I found freedom.

There was another long beat of silence.

Then he said, “When my mind will not calm, music helps me. If you would like, I can play for you.”

Perhaps this truly was a dream. The difference between waking and sleeping seemed utterly insignificant in the dead of night, in that tiny room with a demon at my side. Silently, I nodded, and watched his shadow cross the room to sit on the bench before the piano.

His clawed fingers moved soundlessly over the keys, exploring them, as if refamiliarizing himself with something long forgotten.

Then, he began to play.

The melody that poured out of his fingers could have been written by an old master of the instrument. Slow and gentle at first, it soared into a complex crescendo. His fingers moved with inhuman speed and ease. The song was unlike anything I’d ever heard, and yet, it was familiar too. Like a memory from early childhood, impossible to remember clearly but imprinted on my mind.

It wasn’t long before I was asleep again.

When I awoke the next morning, I was alone. But a blanket lay over me, and my books had been carefully stacked on the table nearby.

It wasn’t a dream.

Hesitant as I was to wander the halls alone, I desperately needed to find my way to a bathroom. Cautiously, I poked my head out into the hall, looking to and fro for any wandering wraiths. I’d left Grandma’s radio in the library, but I could feel her presence nearby in a lingering scent of patchouli and a cool, directionless breeze. It made me feel a little bolder.

“Callum?” I winced the moment I called out. I really didn’t like raising my voice, but this house was so vast and I didn’t trust myself to find my way alone just yet. There was no answer, and I took a few cautious steps down the hall toward the staircase. “Callum? I don’t really know how to summon you, but uh…appear, please?”

A prickly feeling went up the back of my neck, and I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing but a long, empty hallway. My fingertips tingled, heat trickling through my veins. My magic was so close, more accessible than ever before. But the weight of it was intimidating, like waves crashing against the walls of a dam, threatening to break through.

Turning back around, I came face-to-face with black eyes and sharp teeth.

Sparks burst from my mouth as I shrieked, stumbling backward. Clapping my hand over my mouth in disbelief, I took deep breaths for several moments to calm my racing heart, glaring at the demon who’d snuck up on me.

“You called?” he said, giving me a crooked smile that was hardly innocent.

It was remarkable I hadn’t pissed myself. Folding my arms, I grumbled, “You should wear a bell so you don’t give me a heart attack.”

“A bell? Like the one’s humans put on their cats?” He tipped his head to the side curiously, seeming to give the idea some thought. “Only if you promise to drag me around on a leash. Then I’ll gladly wear your collar.”

My face bloomed with heat. That was not the kind of thought I needed right now, but it was too late — he’d planted the seed and all I could think about was this monstrous being crawling toward me on his hands and knees, as I pulled the leash taut.

The demon drew in his breath, suddenly turning his face away from me. “Stop that, Everly.”

“Stop? Stop what?”

“Stop fantasizing.” His voice was sharp, but not with anger. It was desperation. “It arouses you, and that is incredibly…” He paused, his throat visibly moving as he swallowed. “…distracting.”

Part of me was embarrassed he could tell. But another part of me, in a deeper and practically unexplored part of my mind, felt a sudden rush of power.

“Where were you?” Maybe conversation would distract me from the fantasies still roaring through my mind.

“I was clearing the house of wraiths for you, lady witch. The halls are now safe for you to wander. I would suggest familiarizing yourself with the layout, but remain cautious. This house holds many secrets, and not everything is as it seems.”

The idea of being able to finally explore these halls safely, whenever I wished, brought an immediate smile to my face. “Thank you! I will, I’ll be careful. Maybe I should make a map, if my sketchbook isn’t completely ruined…”

“It isn’t,” he said. “Your books are a bit waterlogged but readable. You have some interesting choices in literature.”

He said it so casually, with a mischievous smile. Shaking my head in disbelief, I said, “You went through my bag?”

He blinked slowly, as if my irritation confused him. “Yes, I did.”

“That’s private.” I sighed in exasperation. “You can’t do that.”

“Private?” He laughed as he repeated the word, but his smile faded when I didn’t unfold my arms. “I see. I won’t go through it again.”

The concept of privacy seemed utterly lost on him. But my bladder still needed relief, so instead of trying to explain any further, I said, “Can you point me to my room? I can find my — Oh, shit —”

The next thing I knew, I’d been flung onto his back and was clinging to his wings for dear life as he sprinted through the halls. Faster than I could snap my fingers, I found myself standing dizzily on my feet outside the bedroom door.

“It would not be kind to leave you to wander when you need to relieve yourself,” he said. His actions had, once again, come dangerously close to voiding my need for a toilet. “You’ll find breakfast on the coffee table. If you need me, simply call.”

And with that, he was gone again, disappearing like a guard dog that suddenly got a whiff of a nearby cat.

After taking care of my business and washing my face, I found another platter of food waiting for me on the table near the fire. As I ate my breakfast — coddled eggs with wheat toast and a mug of coffee — I stared mindlessly at Callum’s bloody sigil on the floor.

Something so precious, so intimate, yet he’d given it to me without any hesitation.

As curious as I was, I wasn’t yet brave enough to ask him about the vision he’d supposedly had of me. How could something like that happen? How could a demon in Hell receive a premonition about a witch who wouldn’t be born for thousands of years?

It was the kind of thing that happened in books, not real life.

I didn’t believe I was capable of much. But one thing I certainly wasn’t capable of was simply rolling over and giving up. Finding this place had provided me with opportunities I’d once thought were impossible.

No matter how much it frightened me, I was going to fight.

But without knowing how to use my magic, my fight wouldn’t last very long. Before leaving last night, Grandma told me I needed to start practicing my magic whenever I had an opportunity. She said I needed to build my confidence; using magic should feel as natural as breathing.

Yeah, right. It felt about as natural as breathing underwater.

Leaving my breakfast on the table, I walked from my chair to crouch near Callum’s sigil. His blood had settled into the wood, giving it a dark brown stain. It would be wise to keep his mark close to me, somewhere safe.

Retrieving my sketchbook from my bag, I pursed my lips when I saw my stack of swollen books stored beside it. Most of them were innocent: textbooks I’d selected so I could get a head start on my studies before the school semester began.

But a small paperback with a dramatic cover was doubtlessly what Callum was referring to when he said I had interesting choices in literature.

Ravaged by the Duke of Shadows was the type of book I read late at night while hiding under my bed covers. If I couldn’t live out my fantasies in real life, then reading was the closest I could get.

Victoria had taunted me relentlessly when she found out I read these smutty books. While she was going through a different boy-toy every week, I was daydreaming about gruff, growly book boyfriends who could only touch me in my dreams.

Goddamn it, why did Callum have to see that? I wanted to crawl under the bed in shame and never come out.

With a groan, I fished a pen out of my bag so I could carefully recreate the demon’s sigil within my sketchbook. Taking my time to ensure every line and dash was positioned just right, my hand flowed through the marks as if I already knew them by heart.

The sudden, unbidden memory of Callum’s hands stroking gently down my arms gave me an involuntary shiver. A sigh escaped me as I thought of how carefully he’d uncurled my clenched fingers, warm hands and sharp claws touching me tenderly.

There was a creak outside the door, and I paused. Although I’d finished drawing the sigil, my pen kept tracing the design, over and over. It was involuntary but comforting. Even as I lifted my eyes toward the door and spotted the shadow of someone beneath it, my hand kept moving.

If there was ever a time to experiment, to try to flex my power, it was now. It felt forbidden, like I was doing something inherently wrong. But instead of ignoring the heat, instead of trying to bury the jittery feeling in my chest, I allowed it to spread. A chill went up my spine, and a subtle but sweet scent filled the air. Like strawberries crushed in sugar.

As I traced the sigil, I formed my intention as clearly and confidently as I could. Open the door. Come to me.

The door swung open. Callum walked in, taking his time as he softly shut the door behind him. He stopped halfway across the room and clasped his hands behind his back.

“You needed me?” he said, and my mouth went so dry it may as well have been stuffed with cotton.

There was anticipation in his voice. He was shirtless still, and I was getting the feeling he simply never wore one; perhaps it was difficult for clothing to accommodate his wings. But I had no complaints about the view.

The intricate lacing on his trousers seemed purposefully designed to make me stare exactly where I shouldn’t.

“I wanted to test it,” I said softly, my pen finally held still on the page. “I wanted to see if it would work. If you would really come.”

A small smile curled the corner of his mouth. “It’s wise you’ve begun practicing. I assure you, I find it very difficult to ignore your voice. Even when you’re not stroking my sigil.”

Snatching my hand away from the page, I awkwardly looked away. Now that he was here, I didn’t have a clue what to do with him.

Well…that wasn’t entirely true. I certainly had ideas of what I could do with him, but they were wild, nonsensical…

“Don’t lose your nerve now.” His voice was a dark croon that made my stomach do a spontaneous backflip. “You can be far rougher with me, if you wish.”

Good God, it was suddenly so hot in here. I was practically sweating through my clothes. A thousand unbidden fantasies exploded into my brain, awkward mashups of my own dreams and the ones I’d read in books. I didn’t dare give voice to the things I wished for.

Why did my throat have to close like I was having an allergic reaction to my own desires? Had I gone so long pushing away what I wanted that having the opportunity to seize something for myself was frightening?

But Callum was patient. In fact, my hesitancy seemed to excite him more.

“Come now, Everly. Take control, or I may end up taking advantage —”

“Get on your knees.” It was the first command that popped into my racing mind, and I honestly expected him to laugh at me. But instead, this massive, clawed, fanged demon sank to the ground and knelt for me.

“Aren’t you curious?” he said. The way his lips parted around those soft words was mesmerizing. “Don’t you want to know how powerful you are?” He lowered his head, placing his palms flat upon the floor as he sat on his heels. “Don’t you want to find out how far you can command me?” My breath was throttled in my throat as he crawled toward me. On his hands and knees. “Don’t you want to see… experience…the things you can make me do?”