Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy)

As soon as I vanished the ropes from her limbs, Everly disappeared.

Luckily, it wasn’t another instance of spontaneous teleportation. She shut herself in the bathroom, mumbling something about cleaning up. Within a few minutes, the pipes groaned, and the sound of running water emanated from behind the closed door.

Usually, I was the one making a swift exit. Although I’d neglected my desires for the past few decades, prior to that, I was a fiend for pleasure. But humans were clingy, and I didn’t have the time nor desire. Sticky skin, their arms around me, murmuring words of praise and affection — I shuddered at the thought. That was why I was always sure to quickly leave after an encounter, lest these humans think there was some kind of coitus-induced bond between us.

But every time I paced toward Everly’s bedroom door, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

The rush of hormones and happy chemicals that flooded her as we played were fading now; I could smell them growing faint. From experience, I was aware such a drastic change in hormone levels could result in a human not feeling well, depressing one’s mood until the body was in balance again.

She needed sugar, alcohol, and food. Those things usually made humans feel better.

With that thought in mind, I teleported down to the kitchen. There was plenty of food here, kept perfectly preserved, thanks to magic. Now that a witch was in the house again, the herbs in the windowsill planter box were growing, and doubtlessly, the garden behind the greenhouse was full of fruits and vegetables once more. Facing a plethora of teas, wines, meads, potions and poultices, I frowned at the dizzying options.

“Winona,” I said, and the air stirred as her ghost came near. “What does one give to a woman after fucking her?”

“What does one — WHAT!” Ghostly hands smacked my head. “You wretched demon! Have you killed the poor girl?!”

“Killed? I’ve never killed a mate.” I frowned, waving my hands to shoo away the furious wisps of her spirit. “You said yourself she should take the pleasure she wanted. And need I remind you that the human vaginal cavity is made to stretch to accommodate —”

“I swear, if you dare try to explain childbirth to an old grandmother, I will curse you to never be erect again.”

Immediately, I shut my mouth. While I didn’t believe ghosts could cast curses, I wasn’t going to risk it. She was still grumbling, but things were moving about on the shelves as if she was searching for something, sending canisters and little pouches of herbs floating down to the countertop.

“I don’t understand your anger,” I said. “Would you have preferred she penetrate me instead?”

Whispered curses floated through the air. “It certainly would have been preferable.”

That was fair enough. I still didn’t understand, but humans worked in mysterious ways. “Well then, we’ll try that next time.”

The explosion of cursing that followed my declaration told me perhaps I should stop talking entirely.

Regardless of Winona’s irritation, she gave me what I needed. At her instruction, I selected a crisp biscotti from its jar, laying it on a plate with a variety of fresh fruits. Meanwhile, Winona was combining a variety of herbs in a bubbling pot, and when she deposited it into a teacup, the scent was vile.

“This tea smells like piss,” I said. Another ghostly smack was delivered to the back of my head.

“Make sure she drinks all of it.” A soft breeze whispered through the air, masking the gross smell with the somewhat milder scent of lemongrass. “The last thing that poor girl needs is to get pregnant.”

With a scoff, I said, “She’s not a full-blooded witch; her father has no magic. Such a thing is nearly impossible.”

“You know how much magic is in her. Full-blooded or not, we can’t risk it.”

“As you say, then.” With a shrug, I let her have her way. Collecting the plate and the gross-smelling tea, I couldn’t help chuckling as the old ghost grumbled one last complaint at me.

“Wretched demon waited two thousand years for that woman and couldn’t even keep it in his pants for forty-eight hours. Typical.”

Everly was still in the bath when I returned to her bedroom, but the door wasn’t locked. She jolted upright as I walked into the bathroom, staring at me with her arms crossed over her naked chest and her legs pulled up.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” she exclaimed. Why the hell was she bothering to cover herself? I’d already seen all of her, I’d been inside her.

Humans were so strange.

“You need sustenance.” I set the plate of fruit and biscotti on the small glass table beside the tub. “And your grandmother says you must drink this. Blame her for the taste, not me.”

She stared at the things I’d brought her with suspicion. The way her eyes darted around reminded me of a cornered rabbit, searching constantly for an exit. Usually such a display of fear would turn me on, but from her, it made me uncomfortable in a way I wasn’t used to.

She should have been running wild through an endless summer. Naked limbs and wild hair. Unbridled smiles and laughs that were too loud. She should have been bursting with all the power and hope inside her.

Instead, she was muted. A fire struggling to survive in the rain, a masterpiece with gray paint thrown over it. It made me long to throw kindling on her flames, shelter her heat until it grew so strong nothing could vanquish it.

It was dangerous to feel that way. Fate taught me better than to feel such things.

“You brought this for me?”

She was obviously hungry; I could hear her stomach growling as she stared at the fruit.

“Your body needs fuel to recover,” I said. Picking up a sliver of orange, I offered it to her, holding it close to her lips so the smell could tempt her. “Go on. You’re shaking. The food will help.”

Never taking her eyes from my face, she ate the fruit from my fingers. Her lips touched me briefly, an electric current shooting between us that made her wince, then softly smile as she chewed the food.

If only I could see into her mind, read her thoughts like a book. So many years had passed since I first saw her face, but in all that time, I’d tried not to imagine what she would be like. Listening for her name, through century after century, watching the human world change and countless generations pass by — never finding her. Always wondering, but never daring to hope.

That first taste of food whet her appetite, and she ate enthusiastically. She eyed me with uncertainty when I dragged in a chair from the bedroom, positioning it so I could keep my eyes on her.

“You really don’t understand what privacy is, do you?” Her lips twitched with a suppressed smile.

“To be free of observation or disturbance by other people,” I said, reciting the definition easily. I was perfectly fluent in most human languages. The ones I didn’t know, I could easily learn by listening to it for a couple of days. Propping one leg atop the other so I was a bit more comfortable, I said, “But I am not people. I’m your guardian.”

“Self-declared guardian,” she said. But she didn’t tell me to leave. She took a sip of her tea, made a face, and put it down again.

“Your grandmother insists you drink it,” I said. “I suppose it’s a method of birth control.”

She suddenly looked as if she was going to spew out the tea she’d just choked down. “It’s — what? That’s possible? For you to…oh, God.”

“Calm yourself. Winona is showing an overabundance of caution. It is likely wise of her, but don’t let it frighten you. Such pregnancies are extremely uncommon.”

Despite my assurances, she gulped down the rest of the tea. As she chewed a mouthful of fruit to wash down the taste, I was distracted by the shine of the juice upon her lips. Her face hid her emotions, but her eyes gave it away.

“Something is still worrying you,” I said. More discomfort poured into me, demanding that I fix whatever was causing her distress. It made me fidget, and I began snapping my fingers to keep calm.

She stared out the window, at the streaking rain, her heart fluttering like the wings of a frightened bird.

“I have to go back, don’t I?” she said grimly. “I have to go back to my family to steal the grimoire, if we’re going to get into the vault.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. The decision is yours alone. No one will force you. There may be other opportunities to steal the grimoire, without making your presence known to your family. Besides, Winona is only guessing that whatever is contained in the vault will help us. Even she doesn’t know exactly what lies within.”

Although I didn’t say it aloud, the situation was certainly complicated. Her father was clearly a cautious man, and I couldn’t steal the grimoire from him myself. Nor could I kill the man, as much as I wanted to, thanks to the wretched iron talisman he carried. Any attack I attempted on him would be turned against me.

Everly shook her head, determination on her face. “This whole situation is going to make my father extremely paranoid. I don’t think he knew Jeremiah was going to kill Marcus; he would never have allowed a sacrifice to be so messy. People are going to ask questions, there’s going to be investigations. He hates that.” She gulped, finally looking at me again. “He might stop leaving the house with the grimoire. He might lock it up somewhere. I need to be close to him to know what he does. To steal it, I need him to let his guard down.”

“As I said, the decision is yours alone. Whatever you choose to do, I will assist you.”

She looked at me curiously. She and I wore similar armor, and I didn’t blame her for her caution.

When I left Hell behind, I was running from the pain that came with every long night and burning sunrise. Pain I couldn’t escape in the depths of liquor or the heights of mind-altering potions. I took humans as lovers but never claimed their souls. I avoided other demons, and over the years, my name was forgotten.

I did everything and anything I could to disappear. I pursued no friendships, I offered no love. And yet, one glimpse of her, and I was broken. I was weak again, aching. All the raw pain I’d buried was clawing to the surface.

She didn’t need magic to destroy me; she could do so with delicate caresses and kisses light as feathers. She could make me pour out my pain and then fill me with more.

Yet, I’d let her do it. Even if it meant the death of me. If this was the final joke cruel fate would play, then I would laugh along with it.

“I choose to go back,” she said. Her words shook, but they were brave. “I’m going to steal the grimoire, and get into that damn vault. And then…” Her fingers tightened on the edge of the tub. “You and I, we’re going to kill that thing.”

The fierceness in her voice made me want to kiss her again. Every second I wasn’t touching her filled me with the most blissful, agonized longing, but I would gladly suffer for her. Bowing my head, I said, “As my lady commands, so it shall be done.”