AllFreeNovel
Share Us
None of this made sense. Not why she came for him. Not how she refused to tell him anything. Nor how damn attractive he found her. He should hate her. Perhaps he was resigned to his fate as he’d tried to convince Merritt. He certainly feared her; she held his life at the edge of her blade.His thoughts were consumed with these freakishly oxymoronic ideals as they pushed through the woods. Eventually the trees gave way to the dip of a valley and at its end were the crumbling remains of old stone and what might have once been homes.
“Oh good.” Remis sighed. “I’m assuming these are our luxurious sleeping arrangements?”
The witch didn’t smile up at him as she stared out at the mess of ruins. Her shoulders were slumped though her knuckles had turned white on the handle of her dagger. She didn’t deign to respond to him but trudged through a pile of snow that the wind had created against the swooping land.
She made it two feet ahead of him before the thought of running crossed his mind. He looked to the trees behind him, considered the state of his numb feet…What was the worst that could happen? She’d kill him? He almost chuckled at the passing thought. He was already marching straight for his death; it could be worth the attempt. Would she be fast enough to catch up with him? He’d looked to the sky several times and never saw a sign of her dragon and unless witches could fly on their own he doubted she could match his pace.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Remis turned back the way they’d come into the brush that was already trampled and ran. He sprinted, feet pounding into the snow and heart hammering in his throat. He made it back into the treeline and—
Snow was shoved up his nostrils. Remis landed face first, an upturned root painfully digging into his cheek and the weight of a woman on his back. Fingers threaded in his hair and then tugged his head up, angling his face. The woman’s face hovered next to his cheek.
“I honestly thought you’d try that sooner,” she practically sang against the shell of his ear. His body warmed as her lips brushed against him.
“You’re quick for a woman.” Remis laughed and her fingers loosened in his hair. He twisted though she didn’t rise from her position on top of him, she let him turn himself so that she sat snuggly over his hips. Her dagger was poised for his ribs as she watched.
She sat up, her weight shifting against him. Her ass brushing his cock in a way he was certain was purposeful. “You don’t need to add the ‘woman’ part. I’m quick. That is the statement. I am fast for a human, and faster than you are, certainly. I wouldn’t try this again.”
He swore for a moment her eyes fell to his mouth, but she stood up off him so quickly he could have imagined it. Her heat was gone and the cold at his back was unbearable without her. Not to mention he’d gone from flaccid to half-staff in his trousers. He tried to reason with his cock; this woman would sooner cut his member from his body than have sex with him.
“Come on my little rabbit. Let’s find a place to rest and if you can behave I promise I won’t kill you tonight.” Her voice had gone silky, a dangerous purr.
Remis glared down at the ground as his feet caught against each other and he stumbled. He pretended to blame the uneven terrain when really he’d been distracted by her. Were all witches also seductresses? Was this how they lured their victims? If so, Remis didn’t think it was the worst way to go.
He followed her back down into the valley, his steps a cacophony of noise compared to her quiet delicate movements. She certainly moved like a predator, all grace and lethal prowess.
If he was a rabbit then she was a wolf.
The valley came to an end where only fractions of an old stone wall remained. There was a clear opening where the city's main road might have once been. Now all the grass was overgrown enough that Remis couldn’t make out where the old path started and where the weeds began. Two moss-covered stone pillars remained mostly intact. The top half of one had been toppled over and lay in a collection of shattered rock behind it.
The witch stopped at one of the pillars and looked it up and down before she continued on. Remis paused where she’d stood for a moment. Here he could see where plants had grown over what could have been art or some sort of meaningful design. He ran his fingers over the surface, softened only by cold damp moss. He thought he could make out the shape of a woman but the structure was weather-worn and the image faded with age.
Pulling his cloak tighter against his body, Remis followed the witch as she walked slowly amongst the rubble. A howling breeze was barreling between buildings, ruffling his hair and threatening to blow him away. The thin top layer of the snow was caught in the wind's fury and thrown up into their faces. The witch sighed and tugged her hood up.
All around them, what could have been homes or storefronts were now nothing more than a few standing walls and rotting broken doors. In some places, a few windows remained intact and frost was already coating the corners. Remis’ boot caught against something in the snow. It jingled as he kicked it. Brows pulling together, he leaned down and plucked the item out of the snow, dusting the white off it. It was heavy with moisture but made of fabric and it drooped down in his hand. He gave it a slight shake, and when it jingled again he turned it over.
A faded smiling face looked back at him. A doll with a ribbon tied around its neck, a small bell attached at the end of it like a necklace and its charm. His throat tightened. Children had lived here. It was silly that the idea had only just occurred to him. Of course, if there had been a town here there had also once been children. What had happened to these people? The owner of this doll? Remis propped the doll up against the nearest fragments of whatever building had been there.
“Don’t dally,” the witch called over her shoulder.
Hairs rose on the back of his neck. His attention scanned the rubble looking for watchful eyes but not even the witch was watching him. He started forward, hurrying as something like fright rose up within him.
Remis wasn’t sure that ghosts existed. He’d heard stories of such things of course, but usually they could be chalked up to tricks of light and people not in their right minds. What happened to spirits after they passed? His mother believed they went to live with her god, but what if whatever had happened here had trapped their spirits? What if the child who’d lost their doll was watching him now?
He was starting to scare himself. Chuckling, though the sound was dry, he hurried to catch up with the witch. The road she’d turned on offered homes that were much more intact. Several had broken windows and looked as if time was slowly starting to make them sag but porches were still erect. A rocking chair moved in the breeze, creaking against the wooden planks underneath it. Something clattered in the distance and the hiss of an animal echoed around them.
The witch only scowled at the noise and came to a stop. “Seems as luxurious as any other one.” She motioned to the home, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she played on the words he'd said earlier when they’d arrived. Before he’d tried to run and before her body had been on top of his.
Remis shook his head and started up the steps behind her as she shoved a shoulder into the closed door. The porch groaned so loudly at their movements he wondered if it would cave in under them. With another shove of her weight, the woman splintered the wood frame with a crack and the door swung open, hinges screaming in protest.
“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” she called as she sauntered forward.
For most of his life, Remis had thought the worst thing in the world was his father. Nothing could be more terrifying than his disapproval and the rings on his knuckles when Remis was to be punished. He supposed that had left him with this terrible need to be liked. So then he feared people hating him and had grown quite used to changing the mask he wore to suit the people he was around. More often than not he wore the mask of false confidence and arrogance noticing how people took to that better. Yet the idea of heading into this abandoned house with the witch who'd hunted him down turned his stomach.
She’d promised not to kill him tonight, but of all people, he couldn’t trust her.
Still, he had little choice in the matter, and when the gust of wind behind him started to sound like an old woman sobbing he hurried inside after her.
The air in the home was damp and musty. He wrinkled his nose and pulled his cloak up over his face. At least when he’d slept on the raft he’d had the open air around him.
