The first man I ever killed had only one eye.
No, wait... did he have one eye before I killed him, or after?
Hmm. I can't really remember. I was only eleven.
When I killed the second man, I was fourteen, so I perfectly recall that he had both eyes. He was perfectly intact, in fact. After I was done, all he missed was a large chunk of his neck.
For the third man, I was seventeen, but it was pretty dark in the woods so I can't tell what he ended up missing. It got really messy at some point.
But hold on a second: should I be held responsible for the actions of an animal? Even if that animal lived in my head, used my body to hunt and kill, called all the shots about everything and pretty much owned my ass?
Because I didn't really kill those men. I really wanted to, but I didn't.
Your honor, the defendant pleads not guilty to all charges.
Seriously, I had no control over the wolf whatsoever. It was worse that she was so sexist, too. She'd never killed a woman before—just men.
In a normal world, werewolves learn to control their animals from birth.
They learn to keep them inside, make a rational decision on when to let them out, and how to lock them in again. Not a smooth process, but it worked for the most part.
But there was nothing normal about me. I found that out five years ago, right after I'd committed my third and last murder.
Anyway, all of that is in the past now.
Unfortunately, my future wasn't looking any brighter right now, either.
The smart thing to do would have been to get a good night's sleep, but I couldn't. Not when the smell of Izzy's shirt filled my entire apartment, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. For three hours I tried to get the idea out of my head, but when the clock struck eleven pm, I gave up.
The tavern where she was last spotted was called Moon Howl. Very original. I'd never been, but I'd heard about it. Only werewolves and certain witches allowed inside. And it wasn't even an hour away, which meant I would be there even before midnight. No idea why that seemed like a good thing, but it did. I got dressed, took Izzy's shirt, and got into my car. I would have never been able to sleep, anyway. I also wouldn't have been able to distract my wolf from the pictures Finn had showed me for too long. Not unless I was doing something besides pretending to watch TV.
I'd taken a few knives from the kitchen, some of the sharpest ones, but I already knew that they'd be useless. I wasn't a fighter. My wolf took care of that part. I just…gave her a body to do it—and not even willingly.
I turned the volume on the radio up all the way to drown my thoughts and the nasty sound of the engine and ate the sandwiches I'd made for the road. The drive was much shorter than I would have liked, but in what felt like ten minutes, I was in Jersey City, just a couple blocks from the Moon Howl. The City was mostly populated by humans, but there was a good number of paranormals here, too. Vampires, werewolves, witches, even fairies.
When I got close to the tavern's building, I parked the car on the side of the road and continued on foot. I allowed myself a sniff to find out what I was up against, and the smells of the spells hit me hard. Blood magic, most likely. Out of all, Blood magic was believed to be the strongest. Then came Bone magic, and Green. Hedge magic was very strong, too, but mostly during nighttime.
Oh, right—and Storm witches. Nobody knew how powerful they were yet, but their magic was made of actual lightning, so I doubted the other kinds of witches were going to like what we'd all soon discover.
Werewolves can't do magic, but they have enough in them to activate spell stones—what we called Pretters. Pretters contain spells, and the stronger the Pretter Master, the stronger the spell inside the stone. That's why it stunk of magic in that place. The owners, like most people with money to spend these days, used spell stones to cast protective shields over their territory, but this particular place didn't have any violent spells to throw you off if you attempted to walk in with bad intentions. Yes, there are spells that could actually detect that. This tavern's protection was against magic, against other spells—and against shifting. The sign by the front door said it, too: No Shifting Allowed. Smart man, whoever had made that rule.
When normal werewolves shifted, they became a cross between man and beast. Basically a person-sized wolf standing on two feet. It was not a pretty sight. I had no idea if my wolf looked like that, or even close to it.
But mine, as well as all other werewolves, lost it pretty quickly when shifted. Very few could fully control their animals, and even they never risked it. It's why even the ECU werewolf soldiers weren't allowed to shift under any circumstance.
I left Izzy's shirt in the car, but my nose was filled with her scent. If she was there, I was going to smell her as soon as I opened the door. A couple, both werewolves, came out of the tavern. I had no idea how they could see the way when they were eating each other's faces, but I soon forgot all about it when the smell of the inside hit me hard. My stomach rolled.
Werewolves, testosterone, Green witch, two Bone witches. I swallowed hard and proceeded to breathe through my mouth only. This was going to be very interesting.
The bar was located in a two-story building, and it was bigger than it looked from the outside. The wooden floor creaked with every single step anyone took. Luckily, most were drunk and sitting. The bar to my right was packed, and half the tables across from it were taken. There were mirrors mounted on the walls on three sides, as if they wanted to make sure everyone saw everyone coming from all angles. The music was loud, an old country song that had a few werewolves singing along and raising their glasses. Boy, these people really knew how to have a good time.
Nobody watched me as I made my way to the bar. My scent was the same as a werewolf's, and there were plenty of them here. No reason to be alarmed by my presence.
Two people worked the bar—a werewolf, possibly in his forties, with a nasty goatee, and a Bone witch with short hair dyed bright pink. She smiled at everyone, and everybody was eager to give her their order—and a tip. I tried to decide who to talk to. The guy or the girl?
Shit. Animals were so easy to talk to, even though I did all the talking.
They always listened to me. They never made me feel uncomfortable.
Maybe it was because they could smell my wolf and were afraid of her, or maybe they all liked me for me, but this was terrifying. I had no idea how to get a person to tell me anything.
Undecided, I watched a werewolf stand from a barstool, and I jumped to it. Whoever came to take my order first was going to have to do.
The wood of the counter was wet and sticky and full of cigarette ashes —same as every other bar, I guess.
"What can I get you?" the werewolf said. So the guy. Maybe that's for the better.
"Any beer's fine," I said and reached for a twenty in my pocket to pay him. He slid the beer bottle to me and took my money, then turned away.
"Hey, wait!" I called. Sure, he didn't know me and he had no reason to tell me anything, but I did know how to flirt. And he was a guy. It was the best chance I had.
I smiled my brightest smile when he stopped in front of me again.
"What's your name?"
He pressed his lips together, and his goatee moved like a living thing.
Ugh. "Rick," he said. "Can I get you anything else?"
I batted my lashes at him. "Maybe your number?"
That's when the werewolf took a second to look at me. And he liked what he saw, though I hadn't even bothered with mascara.
So he smiled. "You didn't tell me yours."
I reached out my hand to him. "Gia Hall."
Slowly, he brought my hand to his lips. My God, his goatee touched my skin. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. He thought I was excited by his gesture so he showed me all his teeth.
"What's a girl like you doing in this shit hole, Gia?" Rick said and rested his elbows on the counter. I wiped the back of my hand against my jeans as hard as I could. Maybe his saliva wouldn't smell as bad as I feared.
"I'm actually looking for someone," I said in my sweetest voice.
"Have you found him?" he said and raised a brow.
"Maybe," I said with a wink. "When do you get off?"
His cheeks flushed instantly. "At dawn," he said. Thank God.
"Well, then we can leave here together if you tell me what I wanna know." Could he tell that I was lying through my teeth? I usually dealt with humans when I told lies, so I wasn't sure.
His smile froze. Maybe my flirting game wasn't as good as I thought it was. Damn it.
Rick straightened his shoulders. "And what's that?"
"A girl. She used to come here a couple months ago. Not sure if she's been around lately," I said and leaned closer to him. Too bad I'd worn a plain black shirt with no cleavage. That could have worked to my advantage.
Then, Rick laughed. "I ain't no snitch, lady. Go do your dirty business somewhere else," he said and turned away.
"Hey, it's not dirty business, I swear!" I called, but he didn't care. He was already at the other end of the bar, talking to a customer. "Shit!" I spit, and when the woman next to me turned to look, I realized I'd said it out loud. I raised my bottle to her. "Shit happens," I mumbled, and she immediately looked away.
The beer was at least cold. I drank half of it while looking at Ricky, hoping he'd come over again, but he didn't.
"You all set?" the pink-haired witch said, making me jump. I hadn't seen her come in front of me.
"Yes," I said, letting go of a long breath. "Where's your toilet?"
I wasn't going to try to flirt information out of her this time, but I could look around the place, try to pick up Izzy's scent.
"Right over there," the witch said, pointing at the end of the room.
There was only one door across from the bar.
"Thanks," I said, and pushing the beer bottle away, I stood up and made my way to it. I walked slowly, sniffing the air every now and then, searching. Other than getting myself ready to throw up, I didn't get anything.
The toilets were a mess. It looked like everyone who went in there made it their mission to miss the toilets. Both the men's room and the ladies' were a mess of toilet paper, cigarette butts and water (probably piss). I wondered how people used these toilets without getting an STD. Just standing there made me feel infected already.
When I realized I was going to have to smell the air in there, too, I almost cried. Gritting my teeth, I sniffed as lightly as I could, but it was still too much. Yep. It wasn't water. Ninety percent of it was urine. I turned around to leave when a bear of a man stepped into the narrow corridor that separated the toilets. He was in a hurry so he knocked me over into the wall, and I accidentally drew in air through my nose.
And I smelled him.
He smelled…different. A werewolf, but there was a scent on his clothes, something very close to an animal. An animal I hadn't come across yet. Or maybe a bunch of animal smells together? He walked into the men's room and slammed the door shut, but I couldn't move for a few seconds. Why was that smell so strange? Had I imagined it?
Only one way to find out.
I stepped out in the bar again and sat down at one of the three empty tables closest to the toilets' door. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.
The werewolf was surprisingly quick. Maybe he couldn't stand the smell in there, either. But as soon as he walked out, I let go of my breath and sniffed hard.
I had definitely not imagined it. The smell hanging on his leather jacket was that of an animal—a strange kind I'd never smelled before. But something like it, something close but not quite, had been on Izzy's shirt, too. He didn't stop by the bar. He made for the exit right away without bothering to even look to the sides.
Jumping to my feet, I followed. The smell made me very curious even though it wasn't exactly like Izzy's. It made my wolf very curious, but the way her emotions were intertwined with mine, it was very hard to tell who was feeling what most of the time. Nevertheless, I went with it. I followed the werewolf outside. He was still alone, walking down the street to my right. I rushed my steps—he was a big man and very fast—to get close to him and to smell him once more before he disappeared, just to make sure I wasn't imagining this. I could already smell his trail and followed my nose instead of my eyes when he turned the corner and crossed the road, jogging.
A black car was waiting for him there with two other people inside. I sniffed hard and almost threw up. The car reeked of the same smell.
I ran to it, not caring to even try to hide from them, but by the time I made it across the street, the car was already gone. Mine was on the other side of the neighborhood. If I went to get it, could I still follow them in time?
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I whispered to myself. I couldn't follow their scent while they were in a car. Which was why it was so much easier to find animals. They didn't drive fucking cars.
It was a dead end. I couldn't follow them on foot, either. And besides, it didn't matter that they smelled strange, unlike anything I'd smelled before.
I was there to look for my sister and maybe too much breathing through my nose had messed up my sense. Maybe Izzy's shirt didn't smell like this at all. I had turned to go back to the Big Bad Wolf, when I took in a deep breath to calm my racing heart. And I smelled that stupid smell again.
It was coming from the building right behind me.
This time, I didn't bother to breathe through my mouth again.
The building was three stories high, and the first was made out of glass.
Thick white blinds were drawn from the inside, and the door was locked.
There was no sign on the outside, and there was nothing I could see through the blinds, but I could definitely smell that animal smell clearly. Since the building was at the corner of the street, it was easy to find my way to the back. The narrow alleyway that separated it from the next building smelled of werewolves, too. There was a light at the end of it, and when I walked deeper, they became two. Car lights. A second later, the roar of the engine told me that there were people there, too. I should have turned back while I had the chance, but my legs took me closer and closer to what looked like a black truck. There was no other light in there, and the shadows shielded me perfectly. I pressed my back against the wall and walked sideways, taking in deep breaths every few seconds.
Two werewolves were in the truck—and the third was coming out of the back door of the building. This last one smelled like the guy from the tavern —strange animal mixture.
"Come on, man! We're late," the driver said, slamming his hand on the truck's door while his friend locked the back door.
"No, we're not," he said.
"Are they gone?" Another guy said, this one sitting in the truck. It was too dark to see the faces. I couldn't make out anything except their silhouettes.
"Yep. They're already on the way to the Palace. It shouldn't be long now." The guy finished locking up and turned for the truck. I had to get the hell out of there.
"So we're early?" the driver asked, a bit disappointed. I began to move back to the street.
"We've got time for a beer, then we're off," the wolf said. "Tonight's going to be huge, guys. The boss will be very pleased."
The tires screeched. The driver put the truck in reverse and hit the gas.
There was no way I was getting out of there in time—unless I ran.
That's exactly what I did. And if they saw me, I'd just keep on running.
Thank God for the darkness. I made it out of the alley and turned the corner around the building before the truck drove out. They didn't stop. They didn't look like they were searching for someone. They hadn't seen me.
I let go of a long breath. That had been close.
Not to mention stupid.
Enough of this nonsense. What the hell did I care about a strange smell and some werewolves in an alley? I was here for Izzy, and I was going to go search for her. Pissed off at myself, I made my way back to the tavern and did a full circle around the entire building. I worked with animals. I sucked at searching for people. Too easily distracted. And my wolf was on edge, more so than usual. She was awake and watching. Waiting, though I had no idea what for.
Half an hour later, I had to admit to myself that Izzy hadn't been around that place in the last couple of days. The best I could do was come back every night until she made an appearance. Until I caught her scent. My father was going to be disappointed. He was disappointed in me a lot before. My mother, too. When I brought home my school grades. When I got into fights. When I sneaked out at night to go hang out in the woods.
She hid it well, though. I couldn't tell how she felt until I was a teenager.
This time would be no different. I'd give Finn a call tomorrow and ask him for Dad's number. I'd call him and tell him that I'd found nothing, but that I'd continue to search. Every night. Until I found Izzy. Which might well never happen.
When I got back to my car, I regretted having come out tonight. I was tired and pissed off at way too many people. It didn't help that when I sniffed her shirt once more, I got a hint of the same kind of smell as those werewolves. Spicy. A lot of spices mixed together, though Izzy's were a bit different. A spell, maybe? Same magic, different spells, and it also smelled like animals. I tried to tell myself that I was wrong, that too much had happened in too little time, but my wolf wouldn't have it. She left no doubt in my—our?—mind: it was the same kind of smell.
What the hell was the Palace? Where were those guys going?
It couldn't hurt to check, could it? Just a quick search on my phone.
No, it didn't hurt at all. And according to the app, the Palace in Jersey City was an apartment complex right by the Hudson.
See? It was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
And it would take me less than twenty minutes to get there.
So…what was the worst that could happen if I just drove there?
That very thought seemed implanted in my head. It was my own voice but not my own thought. It was my wolf. She was curious. Very curious about that smell on Izzy's shirt. What kind of an animal smelled like that?
What kind of magic smelled so spicy? I knew how all kinds of magic smelled, but this was a mix I'd never encountered before so I couldn't be sure. Maybe, if we went to check this place, we could see it with our own eyes. We weren't going to find Izzy tonight, anyway. And maybe this would help me get better at this investigation job. Experience. I was gathering experience.
And with that foreign thought in mind, I drove myself to the beginning of the end of my life as I knew it.
THE PALACE WAS a ten-story apartment complex by the Hudson River with five wide buildings standing back to back. The faded yellow color of the facade made it look old, but the windows were brand new. It was unusually quiet close to the entrance. I parked the car by the complex's sign and got out, sure that I'd find nothing here. What would a bunch of werewolves want with a place like this?
But then I sniffed the air, and I caught the scent. That stupid scent. It wasn't as strong as it had been on those guys back in the City, but it was there. I smelled it. My wolf growled, freezing me in place. The terrifying sound took hold of my thoughts and kept me prisoner, and I waited. I waited for the pain.
It never came.
She didn't want to come out. Not yet.
Letting go of a long breath, I slowly walked up the four stairs that led to the buildings. It was quiet out there. Lampposts every few feet and no guards anywhere in sight. I spun around and searched with my eyes, but other than the sound of the pitch-black Hudson at my side, nothing moved in that place. So I turned to my nose.
The first building was clean. I walked close to the entrance door, and inside I saw a receptionist looking at his phone, a few people standing in the lobby, talking and laughing. Human. There was no strange scent close to that building.
I moved on to the next. No scent there, either. Or the third.
But at the fourth, I felt it everywhere. There was definitely something inside.
I walked close to the entrance door and looked through the glass. No receptionist. No people. Would the door open if I tried?
It did. The smell hit me anew, making my stomach turn. I already knew I was batshit crazy for walking into this place, but believe it or not, the decision wasn't entirely mine. My gut was in on it with my wolf. They both propelled me forward into the lobby—the only one of the buildings with the lights turned off. But I could see in the dark just fine with my nose. So I sniffed and found my way to a door in less than five seconds. It was the fire door.
I pushed the heavy, white door open and the strong light blinded me.
The stairway was wide, white, and very clean. I closed the door behind me and took a second to calm down.
The scent was coming from downstairs. Maybe the parking garage? I had no idea what was down there, but that didn't stop me from descending those stairs. With shaking hands, I reached for one of my kitchen knives.
Whoever was down there, they weren't going to be happy to see me if they did.
The scent took me to a floor below—and to a door, identical to the one above. It was getting so strong, it was impossible to keep breathing through my nose.
But as soon as I opened that door, I didn't need my nose to guide me anymore. I could hear the voices clearly. I could hear the gunshots.
I could hear the growls.
I ran down the dark corridor with my heart in my throat. I hadn't been wrong. There were animals down there, and people were shooting at them.
Not good. Not good at all. It was only a matter of time before my wolf demanded to be let out and took matters into her own paws.
At the end of the corridor, there were three doors in a square hallway, and the one in the middle was open. I was so certain I'd see hurt animals and men with guns shooting at them.
Instead, I saw four wolves ripping apart the three men who were trying to shoot them dead.
I'd never seen anything like it before. My wolf hadn't seen anything like it before. No longer able to run, I walked toward the door, blinking away the blur to make sure I hadn't seen wrong.
I hadn't.
The smell of spells was heavy, but the smell of animals was worse. The smell of those four wolves. The room was big with no windows, only two doors in the wall across from me. It looked like an apartment—or what was left of it. Broken glass, torn furniture, pieces of wood everywhere. The wolves had cornered the three men right across from the door, and they attacked them every few seconds. The men were trying to defend themselves, but it was no use.
As I watched, confused as hell, the guy on the left tried to shoot at a wolf, but the wolf jumped to the side and bit the man in the ankle, dragging him to the middle of the room. And then he tore the man's neck apart.
Even my wolf was speechless. This didn't normally happen. Animals didn't go into apartments to kill people. People went to the woods to kill animals.
So what the hell was this?
When the second guy ran out of bullets, and the wolf fell onto his chest, my body unfroze. I couldn't let this happen. Yes, I helped animals, but these animals had to be stopped.
The man in the middle, the only one left standing, had begun to chant a spell—a Blood spell—when I stepped into the room.
"Stop!" I shouted with all my voice, still unable to properly process what was happening.
Everybody stopped. Even the witch no longer chanted. He pressed himself against the wall and watched me, terrified. And the four wolves turned to me, too. Their eyes were dark, their furs matted with blood. They weren't big by any means, and they looked to be ordinary wolves, but I had no clue how they'd found their way to Jersey City.
I stepped deeper into the room until I was between the wolves and the witch.
"That's enough," I said to the wolves, needing to understand the look in their eyes. "Leave, right now." And when they left, I could talk to the witch and ask him what the hell was going on. Why were wolves in Jersey City, in an apartment building, killing people? I couldn't wait to get to that part already.
But then something…impossible happened.
The wolves didn't leave like I'd asked them. Instead, they began to approach me and bared their teeth.
"What the fuck?" I asked, as if I was expecting them to answer. "What are you doing?"
I'd done this since I was a kid. Even bears didn't dare approach me. My wolf's scent was too powerful. They smelled it on me, and they retreated, no questions asked. And animals always obeyed me.
Well, until now.
Because these wolves didn't care about who I was or what I smelled like, not like others I'd met before.
"Hey!" I shouted, scared out of my mind, a second before they attacked me. "Stop!"
I have no idea how I managed to raise my hand and swing my pathetic kitchen knife at the wolf's face. Without realizing it, I had backed away and was against the wall now, the dead body of one of the witches right by my feet.
No matter how many of those I saw, it never got any easier. The witch standing next to me was chanting again, the words of his spell bringing shivers down my back as the wolf came for me again, and I swung my arms as fast as I could. His paws were faster. He tore the skin of my forearm apart before jumping back, leaving me panting, even more scared than before.
"Come on, come on, come on," I said to my wolf. This was the first time in my life that I asked her to come out. She was the only one who could save me now. The only one.
But she was not…there. I couldn't feel her. She'd retreated to God knows where, but I was sure she was watching. She was just watching these wolves try to tear me apart.
Or rather, try to tear the witch standing next to me apart.
The man was chanting desperately, his body covered in blood. The pain on my arm was breathtaking, but I forgot all about it when the same wolf who'd attacked me jumped. His friends were suspended in time, probably by the witch's spell, but he wasn't. He jumped and he aimed for the witch with his jaws open.
Without thought, I stepped forward with my arms wide open. You'd think I was looking to hug that animal—and I did. He fell right on my chest.
His balls may or may have not touched my cheeks, but the thought didn't register then. I just wrapped my arms around his body and pushed him back with all my strength, until we were both down on the ground.
I barely had a second to draw in air when ice-cold pain grabbed me by my ankle. I screamed, but the sound wasn't nearly powerful enough to describe what I was feeling. I really, really, really hated pain, and the wolf who'd bitten me was dragging me off his friend, toward the middle of the room while I watched.
I tried to grab something, anything to attack him with because my knives had slipped from my hands, and their blades were too small to cause damage anyway. When I finally reached a piece of wood, probably from the broken table, I turned around and almost passed out from the pain. But I hit the wolf on the head with all my strength until he let go of me with a growl.
By then, the witch was on the ground. I sat up, trying to get a better look at the room to find a weapon to fight with, when I realized the wolves had stopped attacking. They watched the both of us, their teeth bared, neither of them even wounded too much, and slowly, they began to walk backward to the door.
Finn came to my mind then. He'd said that somebody was using animals somehow to do things. Could he have meant this? Because those wolves weren't normal. No, normal wolves would have never attacked me.
There was a gleaming in their dark eyes, and judging by the heavy smell of magic lingering around them, I'd say it wasn't natural. All I knew was that they'd attacked me when no other animal ever had, and now they were leaving because they'd killed the third witch, too.
My ankle was a mess of blood and torn flesh. It was going to heal—I healed as fast as any other werewolf—but it was going to hurt a lot while it did.
And then somebody coughed.
I looked up at the door, sure that other people had come to find us here, but there was nobody there. And when he coughed again, I realized it was the witch with his chest torn open.
Getting to my feet was impossible, but I dragged myself on one knee and my hands closer to him. His blue eyes were half open, stuck to the ceiling, and his hands were trying to press on the tear on his chest, but he was still coughing blood. Taking off my jacket, I put it on his chest and helped him press onto the wound harder.
"Heal yourself," I said, breathing heavily. "Come on, heal yourself." He was a Blood witch. Blood magic had some of the most powerful healing spells in the world. He could conjure one, and he'd be as good as new in no time.
"Not…not…" he said, but another cough, and he sprayed my face with blood.
"Use your spells!" I shouted at his face. "Do you have any Pretters?"
Maybe he couldn't chant. He was barely breathing.
But instead of speaking, the man moved his hands. He moved them until my jacket was no longer covering the mess that was his chest.
And he raised his hand. He hadn't been trying to press onto his wound like I'd thought. He was just holding onto something. Something covered in his blood.
"Not find it," he said, his voice weak. He was shaking, blinking fast as tears streamed down his temples. His eyes met mine, and for a second, it felt like I knew him. It felt like I'd known him all my life.
He reached out his hand, and it looked like he was reaching for me, so I gave him mine. The round-shaped piece of steel was cold against my skin.
"They cannot find it," the man whispered, but he didn't say the whole words. I just guessed. "They can't have it."
He pushed the piece of steel into my palm and then tried to make me close my fingers around it. He wanted me to have it.
"Please, just heal yourself. Come on, you can still survive!" I shouted.
He was wasting unnecessary time with saying things I didn't understand when he could be working on himself instead.
"Don't let them find it. Please, they cannot…" His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes. Strength left him and his hands fell away from mine.
The steel piece remained between my fingers.
"Chant!" I shouted. "Chant, damn it!"
He finally did.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited for the words of his spell to knit him together, to close the wound on his chest. As long as he stopped losing blood, I could get him out of there. I could take him to a hospital. I could find a Pretter so strong, he'd be on his feet by sunrise.
But his wound didn't react to his chanting. His skin and flesh didn't move closer together like I expected. It was like…it was like he wasn't chanting a healing spell. I wouldn't know because I wasn't a witch, but the spell was so long.
The witch ran out of breath, and his head fell to the side. I thought for sure that he was dead. Why hadn't he chanted a healing spell?
But he wasn't dead. At least not yet. Two more words left his lips in a whisper.
And my whole body convulsed.
The fire began between the fingers of my left hand. It spread up my arm too fast to comprehend, and before I took in the next breath, it had consumed all of me. My every cell was burning in flames. My chest was opening, much like the witch's. Breathing was no longer possible. My body was paralyzed and I collapsed. I tried to scream, but my throat was closed.
My eyes turned in their sockets. It felt like death. I knew it was death.
Whatever that witch had chanted, it had killed me, which was strange. From what I knew, there was no spell that could kill you on the spot. Not like this.
But as strange as it sounds, and as surprising as it was to me, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't regretful. I wasn't even panicked.
I welcomed the sense of nothingness with arms wide open, and then I was gone.