The Bound Witch by Ivy Asher
23
Outrage and shock bombard me from all angles. And maybe it’s all this new demon magic that I just inherited, but I’m feeling smug as fuck.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dyad snarls.
Sorrel looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “That’s not possible,” she declares dismissively.
Rogan just looks at me, stunned, his gaze dropping to my feet as he makes the same connection I just did.
The High Priestess sneers at me as though she’s calling what she thinks is my bluff. I don’t say anything, perfectly happy to let her think she’s about to walk out of here. The Crone knows, Sorrel Adair has fucked with me enough times for me to appreciate the importance of dangling the carrot and then snatching it away at the last possible moment.
Unfortunately for them, the carrot I’m dangling is their souls, and there’s absolutely zero chance that they’ll be leaving anywhere with those anymore. The High Priestess doesn’t get that yet, but she will. Soon.
She turns on her heel and motions for the other two to follow her as she tries to leave. I turn calmly to Dyad, my eyes icy and commanding.
“I am Botis’s next in line. His transference of power occurred at the precise moment he died. If you don’t believe me, check, I don’t care,” I tell him evenly. “But I suggest you stop them from leaving,” I add, gesturing to the High Council members, “or I’ll personally hold you responsible for allowing three souls that I own to escape,” I threaten, eyeing the High Demons, officially done with all the bullshit.
They wanted to play when I was just a lowly Osteomancer, let’s see how well they do with a level playing field.
Dyad debates for all of two seconds. Oddly, I feel the moment Sorrel and the others call on whatever magic brought them here. It’s not a ley line, but close. I didn’t feel it before, but I certainly do now. Interesting.
“Stop!” Dyad orders, and the High Priestess extends a murderous look at him for the command.
“You can’t be serious. What? Do High Demons now entertain every impossible and ridiculous claim that crosses their paths these days? Maybe you have time to waste, but I certainly don’t,” she snaps at him, and I can’t help but smile when a strand of white hair falls in her face.
Awww, is the High Priestess feeling a little flustered?
Rogan watches everything with a stoic, guarded expression, and I wish more than anything I could feel what he’s feeling right now.
“If you make one more move to leave after you’ve been ordered to stay, I will consider it an act of war. Think very carefully, High Priestess, about whether you have time to deal with that,” Dyad snarks, and if I didn’t hate his guts, I’d be offering him an oh snap.
Sorrel practically snarls and pushes the errant strand of hair out of her face with such force I’m surprised she doesn’t just rip the traitorous thing from her scalp altogether. I look over at Rogan’s dad, whose name I can never remember, and wonder if the man ever talks or reacts to anything. I suspect his wife might have had him lobotomized at some point, but who the fuck knows. Bordow, however, looks like he has a better understanding of the severity of the situation. His olive skin is waxy, and his eyes dart around the room like he’s waiting for the shadows to come and eat him.
“You have exactly five minutes to make it very clear why you’re detaining us, or I will consider this an act of war,” the High Priestess barks as she marches back over to stand in front of Botis’s bones.
Dyad looks over to Gremory and then to Cozen and nods. Gremory disappears without a word, and Sorrel grumbles something under her breath. I’ve never seen her so out of sorts, and I look over to Rogan to see what he thinks about it. He slips me a sly wink and then moves closer to me so that his arm is brushing mine, and I bite back the smile that wants to sneak across my face.
I pull in a deep breath and try to put my game face on as Cozen’s haunting white eyes fix on me and she looks me over. Her gaze stops on my feet, and instead of seeing shock in her gaze, I think I see...satisfaction.
“What exactly makes you think you are Botis’s heir?” she asks me, her eyes alight with the answer already.
“Something happened when Botis kidnapped and tried to kill me. I don’t know what exactly it was, but it bonded his magic with mine.” The orb in front of Cozen blinks white, and I’m a little surprised, although maybe I shouldn’t be.
I technically have an idea of how Botis accidentally bonded his magic to mine, but I’m not lying when I say I don’t know exactly how it happened. Either way, the details of that will get locked in the vault next to my hey, guess what, I can’t die secret.
“When he was executed just now, I felt the transference. And if that’s not enough...look at the marks,” I tell everyone, holding one foot out and then the other for everyone to see.
Internally I thank my Grammy for giving my Aunt Hillen a heads-up to “look at the marks.”
Sorrel and Bordow both look over, which is exactly when the High Priestess once again thinks she’s off the hook. I shrug at her.
“If you don’t believe me, then look at your marks,” I tell her simply, one eyebrow lifted in challenge.
The High Priestess looks down at her high heel booted feet, and for a second, I think she’s actually going to take her bootie off. Instead, she glares at the Contegomancer until Bordow begins to unlace his shoe.
Rogan laces his fingers in mine and squeezes once as we both watch the Contegomancer slip off his shoe and pull off his sock. He stares at the mark on the top of his foot, and I see his shoulders slump in defeat.
“What?” Sorrel stammers, staring at the new pattern of Bordow’s mark as though it’s a cobra ready to strike at any moment. “How?” she demands on a haunted whisper, her green eyes snapping up to mine. Her gaze quickly morphs from denial to bewilderment to outrage.
The High Priestess calls power to her so fast I feel it create a vacuum of magic all around her, her eyes alight with the fire she’s calling on, and Rogan and I both ready ourselves for an attack. She opens her mouth to screech something at us, but before she can so much as blow a plume of smoke in our direction, a glass cage slams down all around them, trapping the High Council members in there and cutting off Sorrel’s access to her magic.
I jump a little as the cage slams down on top of them, and then I try to brush it off as nothing when I feel Rogan chuckling at my expense next to me.
“This is an act of war, do you hear me?” Sorrel shouts at Dyad, her voice slightly muffled by the glass encasing her. “Let me out right this minute!” she screams even louder.
She paces inside the glass like an animal, and I can see her calculating and twisting things and trying to figure a way out. I should feel bad for her; I was just in her shoes, terrified and trying to figure out a way to save Rogan and Elon, but all she’s doing is looking for a way to save herself. She can rot in that glass cage for all I care.
I feel a strange pull on that magical source that feels similar to a ley line, the one Sorrel tapped into earlier when she was trying to leave. I want to ask what it is, but Gremory appears back in the bone room, and he’s accompanied by three other demons. One looks strikingly like a praying mantis with a long human-like face, and the other two demons look like people-sized versions of a bright yellow tarsier monkey. Their eyes are huge and dart around the room frantically in a way that makes me nervous.
All the demons start discussing things amongst themselves again, and this time I don’t even try to listen.
“You okay?” Rogan leans in to ask me, and I nod.
“Yeah, I just wish this was all over already. My nerves are shot to shit,” I tell him, and he nods with understanding. “Are you okay?” I turn to him to ask, looking him over for any signs that what’s happening is taking a bigger toll on him than I realized.
Technically, there are two people in the cage to our left who are the reason Rogan and Elon even exist. I wouldn’t blame him if this turned out to be harder than he realized.
“I’m fine, I keep waiting for her to find a way out of this,” he admits with a hollow laugh. “She’s been hunting me and Elon for so long now I don’t even know if I believe this is it. I doubt I’ll even believe she’s dead when she actually is. I’m afraid to get too hopeful.”
“I know exactly what you mean, and I haven’t even been dealing with her nearly as long as you have. It’s going to take time to deal with everything. There’s a lot to unpack and process,” I agree, and Rogan pulls me in for a hug.
I burrow in against him, relishing his warmth and strength. I thought for a while there I was never going to feel his arms around me again, and now I want to be sure that I never take this for granted, not even for a second.
“Do you not want me to kill them?” I ask quietly, not looking Rogan in the eye so that he feels he has the space and support to answer this question however he wants to.
He sighs and kisses the top of my head. “I hate that they’re forcing you to make this decision. I wish all of this wasn’t on your shoulders, but as brutal as it sounds, they need to die,” he tells me with firm conviction. “There isn’t a redeeming quality in any of them, and the world will be far better off without them than it would with them.”
I nod my agreement and look up at him. I offer what comfort I can in a soft smile and a gaze filled with respect and admiration.
“Should I request that Elon be allowed to witness this?” I press.
Rogan runs his fingers through my hair in thought. “He probably won’t like me deciding for him, but he’s seen enough horrible things in life. I don’t see the point in adding more to that, especially not for monsters like them,” he tells me, gesturing to the glass cage, and I look over to see Rogan’s mother is watching us.
Unease skitters over my skin, and I can tell by the manic twinkle in her eyes that she has a plan.
Oh goodie...not.
“Lennox Osseous,” Dyad calls, and I look up at the collection of demons by the dais. “In order to confirm your claim, Julius will test your magic,” he tells me, gesturing to the praying mantis demon. “Once that’s established, the twins will then review your contract for the souls.”
“Fine with me,” I tell him, and he studies me as though he’s looking for how I’m tricking them right now.
Jokes on you, bud, no tricks up my oversized sleeves.
Julius scurries closer to me, and I try not to flinch away from him as he does. He indicates for me to extend my arm, and when I do, he gives me a small scratch. He collects a small amount of blood and then scrapes it into a vial where he promptly starts to shake it, and then all eyes are on him as he analyzes it with nothing more than his own two eyes.
“Rogan Kendrick, you will let me out of this cage right now, do you hear me?” Sorrel suddenly snaps out of nowhere, and fury instantly boils in my blood.
I hear Rogan scoffnext to me like he finds her efforts amusing, but I don’t find anything funny about it. This bitch hired a fucking demon to torture secrets out of her own children, and now she wants to order one around like she has any right to play the mom card.
I whirl on her. “If you know what is good for you, you will never speak to him again. Don’t say his name, in fact don’t even look at him. I don’t have to make your death painless, let’s be very fucking clear about that,” I growl at her.
She glares at me but doesn’t say another word to him.
“The claim is valid,” Julius announces, and then just like that, he disappears.
The High Demons all look at me again like I’m some sort of freak of nature. They’re not wrong, but still it’s rude. Sorrel and Bordow start to argue venomously, but I’m distracted from their catfight when a leather reclining chair appears behind me out of nowhere. I squeal in surprise when there’s suddenly a giant yellow tarsier monkey in my face, pushing me down into the chair. My feet go flying up with a shriek when someone pulls the reclining lever without warning, and Rogan chuckles but doesn’t leave my side. I wrangle in my fight-or-flight instinct and barely stop myself from giving the man I love the bird for laughing at my expense, damn handsy monkeys. The yellow tarsier demons stare at my feet intently, and I try very hard not to fidget.
“Uhhh, what are you doing?” I ask them after a couple of minutes of weird ass staring at my marks.
“We’re reading your contract, Countess,” one of the demons squeaks.
Countess?
I’m taken aback by the title, but I suppose it makes sense. I look over to Rogan and wag my eyebrows at him. “I think I found a cutesy couple pet name that doesn’t make me cringe,” I inform him, and he chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“Does that mean I’ll have to go by the Count?” he asks, appalled.
“Please,” I scoff. “You haven’t earned that title. Go get your own demon magic,” I challenge, and he cracks up. “You think I have a castle somewhere in the UK that comes with this title?” I ask thoughtfully.
“No, but I have a stinky dog and a stinkless skunk back home who will be happy to see you, if that entices you to move into my place,” he counters, and I crack up.
“Throw in coffee and orgasms whenever I want them, and you, sir, have yourself a deal,” I tell him, and his smile melts my damn heart.
“Done,” he agrees, and what do you know, our smiles match.
“I want to speak to the High Demons alone,” Sorrel demands. “I have reason to believe that this witch is tricking you, and if you’ll just give me a moment, I can prove it.”
“The contracts are valid,” the twins squeak, and I’m suddenly flung forward out of the chair and back on to my feet.
Fucking hell, why do I feel like a demon-led NASCAR pit crew just came at me?
Rogan catches me and keeps me from face planting, and I offer him a grateful smile.
“I said I want to speak to the High Demons alone,” Sorrel screeches, and the High Demons all look at me for a response. “Don’t look at her, I’m speaking to you. I’m the fucking High Priestess of—”
“You’re the fucking High Priestess of nothing,” I bellow at her, and she flinches with shock. “What do you not understand about the fact that I own your useless soul? I watched a psychopath, that you created by the way, torture your son, and he whined a hell of a lot less than you. Shut the hell up and die with some dignity, you fucking coward,” I snap, fed up with the entitled commands and delusional rants.
“Countess, would you like us to silence the cage?” one of the yellow twins asks me.
“Oh, I can do that?” I ask, surprised and a little embarrassed.
I didn’t know I could choose the mute option.
I turn to Rogan. “I think I’ve reached the hangry part of my cycle,” I admit, and he laughs.
“Good to know, but on the plus side, only one more phase and it’s cuddle slut time,” he announces as though we’re almost home free.
“We have silenced the cage and will keep it that way until the procedure is over. Would you like to be present for the soul retrieval or simply informed when it’s complete?” the yellow twins query in unison, as though we’re not talking about snatching souls like it’s no big deal.
First bodies and now souls. Oh dear, I think I’m escalating.
I shake my head at myself. What is this world even doing to me?
I think about what Rogan said about Elon and having seen enough bad things in life. I look over at him, and he nods in the way that tells me he’s good to do whatever I want to do.
The glass of the cage rattles slightly as Sorrel pounds on it furiously. She screams and snarls, her eyes so full of hate and her face contorted with rage. Venom pours out of her mouth, and I’m grateful I can’t hear the vitriol being spewed at me right now. My eyes land on the Contegomancer, Bordow. His face is swollen, and bruises are starting to mottle the skin of his cheek and jaw from where I hit him. He looks resigned but completely unremorseful as he turns to say something to Rogan’s dad. The High Priest doesn’t respond; he just stares blankly at a pile of bones as though they have all the answers. Maybe they do, I know how much a pouch of bones changed my life for the better.
I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly, turning away from the evil in the cage once and for all.
“Just let me know when it’s done,” I tell the twins, and then, as easy as blinking, they disappear, taking the glass cage with them.
“How do you know they’ll do it?” Rogan asks, eyeing the cage’s former spot warily.
“Look at the marks,” I tell him simply. “If my marks disappear, then the contract is fulfilled. If they don’t, I’ll know something is up,” I tell him, and he considers that.
“Seems like a solid system,” he agrees after a beat. “Where to now?”
I smile at him sweetly as I feel for the magic that everyone keeps using to get in and out of here. “Let’s go home.”