The Witches of the Dark Power Page 6

  ‘Excellent,’ Amos praised with a nod. ‘Good work. How was Demetrius?’

  ‘Slow,’ Colt said bluntly.

  ‘Slow?’ Amos echoed in disbelief. ‘But he’s one of my fastest Hunters.’

  ‘His legs are fine.’

  Amos took the hint and smiled in a diplomatic way. ‘Never mind. What he lacks in some areas, he will more than make up for in others.’

  Colt raised an eyebrow. ‘I will notify you if any such miracle occurs.’

  ‘Colt, my boy,’ said Amos, extending his index finger, ‘let us remember that no one is perfect.’

  Colt mustered a lazy smirk. ‘Said like a true gentleman, Amos.’

  The older man looked around the room. ‘So, gang, if the forest is secure, how about we all call it a night?’

  There was a chorus of relieved sighs and the sound of closing books.

  Mia caught Colt’s eye before he retreated from the room. He beckoned to her from the doorway. She set her book down on the apothecary table and rose to her feet. As she crossed the library to meet him, she could feel Jonathan’s eyes on her back.

  ‘How was your night?’ she asked. The room bustled as people began returning books to the shelves.

  ‘Oh, you know, mostly painless. Yours?’

  ‘Same. Wendolyn looks really sick, though.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Colt asked.

  ‘She went to bed.’

  ‘Good. Guess what?’

  Mia frowned. ‘What? Not more bad news, I hope.’

  A wicked smile flickered across Colt’s lips. ‘It’s debatable.’

  Mia groaned. ‘That sounds bad. Tell me.’

  ‘I’m going to do you a favour.’

  ‘You’re going to do me a favour?’ she repeated, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Should I be scared?’

  ‘Terrified. Consider this your health warning.’

  ‘Way to sell it.’

  He backed into the candlelit corridor. ‘Your move,’ he said, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. ‘Are you playing or not?’

  Mia smiled in response. She cast a glance over her shoulder into the library. ‘Just give me a second,’ she said before retreating to her former seat.

  Jonathan looked up as she approached. For a split second his gaze wandered to Colt, who remained standing alone in the doorway. A self-satisfied expression crossed Jonathan’s face as he returned his attention to Mia.

  But it dissolved the moment she began speaking.

  ‘Can we take a rain check on tonight?’ she asked. She felt a stab of guilt as she saw his face fall.

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘No big deal. Another night.’

  Another night, Mia processed his suggestion. Let’s just hope I survive this night first.

  Chapter Five

  Take a Horse to Water

  Mia followed Colt along the dark, winding corridor. The pulse of candlelight flickered around them, lighting their path with a misted orange glow.

  ‘Here,’ said Colt, coming to a stop at a black door. He leaned against the wall and rested his arm on a brass sconce. The flame of the candle danced in response, as though it were greeting him.

  Mia stared at the door. ‘Where does it lead?’ she asked.

  Colt’s mouth moved into a half-smile as he reached for the iron deadbolt. The bolt shrieked as he dragged it back, unlocking the door before heaving it open. He stepped aside and gestured for Mia to enter the unknown passageway.

  She peered into the dark tunnel that stretched out before her. Uneven stone steps descended into the unlit subterranean territory.

  ‘Go on,’ Colt told her. He glanced furtively over his shoulder along the main candlelit corridor of the castle. ‘It’s a shortcut,’ he explained.

  Mia stepped gingerly onto the first stone step. ‘A shortcut to what?’ She felt her way down the rough, bumpy wall as she descended the stairway.

  ‘A shortcut to my chamber,’ he answered.

  Behind her, she heard the click of footsteps as Colt began down the stone steps after her. The door slammed shut with a reverberating thud, plunging them into complete darkness.

  Mia’s heart sank. ‘We’re going to the Hunter wing?’ she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Siren and the two new Hunters?’

  ‘Siren is on night watch in the forest,’ Colt reassured her. ‘And as for Talon and Finn, they won’t even know you’re here. Not if we take this route, anyway.’

  ‘What about the other Hunter?’ Mia pressed. ‘The new guy. The one with the neck.’

  ‘They all have necks.’

  Mia waved her hand in the darkness. ‘You know the one I mean. Amos’s guy. The greatest Hunter of all time, blah, blah, blah.’

  ‘He most certainly is not!’ Colt exclaimed.

  ‘Right. But what’s his name?’

  ‘Demetrius,’ Colt muttered, unable to hide his contempt. ‘And I don’t think we have to worry about him figuring anything out.’

  The floor levelled as they reached the bottom step and resurfaced in an even narrower passageway. The stone walls seemed to be closing in on them—so close that there was little room for movement beyond forging ahead in single file.

  Mia breathed in the air around her. It smelled musty and damp, and it weighed heavily on her somehow, hot with tension.

  Colt’s hand pressed to her back as they moved swiftly and silently along the passage.

  ‘Turn left,’ he whispered into her ear, using the hand on her back to guide her through the tunnel-like channels of the castle’s inner chasms. ‘Two lefts then a right, and repeat if necessary,’ Colt told her. ‘You might want to remember that.’

  Mia let him guide her, awed by his knowledge of each and every hairpin bend in the pitch-black corridors.

  ‘Stop,’ Colt murmured.

  She did as he asked, waiting patiently as he pried open a second door. A stream of light leaked out from another stairway.

  Mia blinked. She was able to see Colt’s outline now, and the coarse texture of the stone walls surrounding them.

  ‘Go on,’ he prodded gently. He nodded towards the stone staircase, which tapered steeply upwards.

  In a stolen moment, Mia allowed her eyes to linger on Colt’s face. Lit by the fracture of light cast down the stone stairwell by an oil lamp mounted to the wall, he was partly submerged in shadows and partly aglow with ethereal warmth. He was both light and dark. Both good and bad. Both Hunter and human.

  ‘Go on,’ he said again. ‘Don’t worry, it’s safe.’ He nudged her, urging her to move forward.

  Before she knew it, she was making her way up the steps, with Colt trailing closely behind her. The doorway at the bottom of the stairs fell shut behind them, enclosing them in the private stairwell—the entrance to Colt’s bedchamber.

  After a long series of switchbacks, Mia reached the arched oak door at the top of the steep steps. ‘Shall I go in?’ she asked hesitantly, slightly out of breath from the climb.

  ‘It’d be a shame to turn back now . . .’ he joked.

  She twisted the handle and eased the door open. As she stepped cautiously into the room, Colt slipped past her. He began lighting candles, bringing pools of light to the chamber. High in the castle’s turret, a towering four-poster bed stood in the centre of the room, and panoramic windows looked out over the grounds below.

  Mia closed the door behind them and leaned against it. She let out a tense breath. She felt safe here. She’d been in this room before, last summer, when she’d realised her feelings for Colt.

  Is he ever going to kiss me again? she wondered. Or are we back to being just friends? Her heart felt heavy at the thought. If he was planning on kissing her, now would certainly be a good time.

  But apparently Colt had different ideas.

  Across the room, he struck a match, igniting a rippling flame that reflected in his eyes. He dipped the lit match to a black cylindrical candle. Once the wick ha
d caught alight, he set the candle on the floor and then placed an identical, but unlit, candle beside it. Satisfied, he stepped back and surveyed the scene.

  ‘I need you to light the second candle,’ he said to Mia, gesturing to the arrangement on the floor. He set the matchbox down on his mahogany desk.

  ‘Okay.’ She ventured into the room and approached the desk. As she moved for the matchbox, Colt slid it out of her reach.

  ‘No,’ he said meaningfully. ‘Not that way.’

  She sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said in a thin voice. This time, she knelt on the floorboards and raised the lit candle, poising it above its dormant twin.

  ‘Not that way, either,’ Colt told her.

  She frowned at him. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Light the candle,’ he prompted again.

  ‘I’m about to,’ she replied.

  ‘What am I asking you to do?’

  Her frown lines deepened. ‘You’re asking me to light the candle.’

  Colt blinked at her. ‘Yes. So do it.’

  ‘I’m about to,’ she repeated. She held up the flickering candle in the air as if perhaps he had not noticed her actions.

  ‘Not that way,’ Colt said again.

  Mia groaned as the understanding began to sink in.

  ‘Go on,’ Colt urged. ‘Light the candle.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said finally. ‘At least, not the way you want me to.’ He expected her to use her power, connecting the live flame to the dormant wick, just as she’d witnessed him do in the past.

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Colt argued. ‘You’re a Tempestus. You were born to do this.’

  ‘Born to light candles without matches?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Wow. Good to know my life has such purpose.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ Colt droned in a humourless tone. ‘Light the candle.’

  ‘You light the candle,’ she shot back.

  He cast his gaze downwards and extended his palm towards the amber flame. It rose on his silent command, and a brilliant blaze leaped towards the turret roof. A spear of fire created a divide between them. Colt held his palm steadily, his eyes trained on hers through the pillar of fire.

  Mia shrank back from the heat.

  ‘You’re not afraid, are you?’ Colt asked in disbelief.

  ‘No,’ she stammered. ‘Of course I’m not.’

  He moved his hand in fluid circles, causing the beam of fire to twist and spiral, bending outwards towards Mia.

  She resisted every urge to cower from it.

  ‘Take over,’ Colt advised. ‘Take it.’

  Mia took an involuntary step backwards. ‘No. Stop it.’

  The fire curved towards her, never quite making contact but threatening to all the same.

  ‘Stop!’ she cried, shielding her face from the hot blaze. ‘You’re going to burn me!’

  ‘Impossible,’ he said. ‘I control it. It’s not the fire, it’s me. But then, you’d know that if you ever tried.’

  ‘Stop,’ she demanded.

  ‘Make me,’ he challenged above the fire’s hiss.

  Her teeth clenched. ‘No,’ she said as she met Colt’s eyes through the flames. ‘Stop.’

  Resignedly, he curtailed the blaze until it settled on the wick as a humble amber teardrop once more.

  Mia pursed her lips. ‘Thank you,’ she managed.

  Colt laughed under his breath. He turned his back on her and walked to the window. He took a seat at his desk and opened a small treasure chest of ceremonial tools, then lifted a steel blade and began polishing its scored surface with a silk cloth. His interest in Mia had vanished.

  Mia glared at the back of his head. ‘Is that why you brought me up here?’ she asked. ‘To laugh at how incompetent I am?’

  ‘Light the candle,’ Colt answered without turning around.

  Her cheeks burned. Is he trying to humiliate me?

  Angry and hurt, she lifted the lit candle and used its flame to light the one beside it. Clutching the newly burning candle, she stormed over to Colt. She slammed it down on the antique desktop.

  ‘There,’ she said crossly.

  Colt stared at the dancing flame. In one quick breath, he extinguished it. A trail of smoke wafted upwards towards Mia. He returned his attention to the blade and resumed polishing it. ‘Light the candle,’ he said dispassionately.

  Mia raked her hands through her long brown hair. ‘Stop saying that!’

  ‘I’ll stop saying it when I see you do it. Light the—’

  ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence!’

  ‘Candle.’

  Scowling, Mia met his hardened gaze.

  ‘How have your powers diminished?’ he asked, staggered. ‘Last summer you were doing so well, and now…’

  ‘I don’t know! Last summer it just happened!’

  ‘And a few months on it’s, what, just not happening anymore?’

  ‘Clearly,’ Mia muttered. She broke their stare and turned to leave. ‘I’m going,’ she told him as she marched across the room towards the exit.

  As she flung open the door, Colt turned in his chair. He raised his palm, charging a strong gust of air to wrench it from her grasp and slam it closed again.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he said, standing up to face her.

  The last of the wind ruffled her hair before the air in the room stilled.

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Mia despaired, throwing up her hands. ‘You can’t force me to stay here for your amusement!’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Colt shouted with none of his usual composure. ‘I can. I can keep you here. And you have no desire to do anything about it.’

  ‘I think leaving counts as doing something about it,’ she shot back.

  Colt pounded his fist on the desktop, venting his frustration in any way he could. ‘And what happens when it’s not my chamber you’re leaving?’ he challenged. ‘What if someone less accommodating than me is holding you captive? Will you be so passive with them?’

  ‘Less accommodating?’ she echoed, folding her arms. ‘Is there such a thing? I hate to break it to you, but you’ve hardly been a welcoming host.’

  Colt scowled and his pupils began to engorge, darkening his eyes like coal. ‘I won’t indulge you, if that’s what you’re expecting. You need to learn to protect yourself, and I don’t mind being the one who drives you to do it.’

  ‘I can protect myself,’ Mia exclaimed. ‘And I certainly would never expect any kind of compassion or comfort from you! You’re a Hunter, after all.’ Her breath caught as her final words left her mouth.

  They both fell silent.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mia murmured. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  But Colt didn’t react. He did nothing but hold her gaze.

  ‘Light the candle,’ he said at last.

  With a sigh, she reached for the door once more. But as her hand enveloped the handle, again the air tore it from her grip, slamming it shut with such force that it made her jump.

  Colt made a noise somewhere akin to laughter.

  ‘It’s not funny!’ Mia cried.

  ‘I know,’ he said, soberly now. ‘It’s pitiful, really.’

  ‘I’m not pitiful!’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, ‘you aren’t. You’re complacent. And your complacency is what I find pitiful. You cannot . . .’ he trailed off, raking his hands through his dark hair. He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘You cannot afford to be complacent. There’s a witch out there who’s trying to kill you, Mia. This is not a game. And at this rate, you will die.’

  Mia swallowed a lump in her throat, looking beyond him and through the windows into the moonlit night. ‘The others will help me,’ she said weakly. ‘Even if you don’t want to—’

  ‘Don’t be insane,’ he interrupted. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course I’ll help you. Of course I’ll protect you. I would do anything for you! And I’d sooner die than see you harmed . . .’

  Mia’s heart thudded in her chest.

&n
bsp; ‘So if it comes to that,’ he went on calmly, ‘if I’m . . . not around,’ he clarified, ‘I need to know that I’ve done all I can to prepare you. To give you a fighting chance. I need to be certain that you can protect yourself when I’m not there to do it for you.’

  Mia was stunned to silence.

  ‘I mean, when I’m dead,’ he elaborated, in case she had missed his point. ‘Completely dead.’

  She lifted her palm to stop him. ‘I get it.’

  Colt ran his hands over his face, weary now. His eyes had paled to their usual forest-green hue and he was subdued again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mia told him.

  He shrugged. ‘Go, if you have to. I won’t stop you this time.’ He sat back in his chair and lifted a new blade from the desk, inspecting it under the moonlight’s glow. With his back to her, he lifted the silk cloth and slid the blade across it.

  Mia closed her eyes for a moment, processing their exchange. ‘I get it,’ she told him. ‘I understand what you’re trying to do.’

  He continued running the cloth along the blade.

  ‘I don’t like to think of you as . . . completely dead,’ Mia confessed.

  ‘It’s not ideal.’

  Mia sighed. ‘I suppose you can take a fish to water, but you can’t make it drink,’ she mused thoughtfully.

  Colt laughed. ‘Horse,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You can take a horse to water.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He craned his neck to look at her. ‘Fish, one would imagine, are already there.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it, you know,’ she ventured in a small voice. ‘What I said about you being a Hunter and all.’

  His expression was indifferent. ‘I am a Hunter,’ he said simply.

  ‘But you’re not . . . a heartless one,’ she offered meekly.

  He frowned, and a pained expression crossed his face. ‘Of all your remarks, that’s the one that stings the most.’

  ‘Okay, you’re very heartless,’ she humoured him.

  He paused, turning fully in his chair to look at her. ‘Keep talking.’

  ‘Cruel, too,’ she said, edging timorously back into the room.

  ‘The cruellest,’ he added.

  ‘Definitely.’