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After several tense minutes, her shoulders sagged in relief when she spied a solitary flame returning to her, cutting through the darkness like a beacon on a stormy sea.
Her uncle clutched a few sticks in one hand while he lit the way with the other. He dropped the sticks by her feet, then hit them with his flames.
They both jumped back when a conflagration flew into the air like a flaming geyser. Arabella thought she was going mad, for she heard the wood screaming.
Her uncle found an old log wide enough for only one person and placed it beside the fire. Then he sat on it, leaving her there to fend for herself. She made do with sitting on her cloak opposite him, making sure to tuck her hideous hands beneath her. Though she was tempted to walk around the fire and sit beside him, let him wrap his wing around her shoulders and promise he’d keep her safe, she feared he’d turn her away.
He pulled a canteen from beneath his cloak and took several gulps, a vacant expression in his eyes while he stared at the fire.
It was obvious he wasn’t going to offer her a drink or hunt for food. She licked her parched lips and ignored that churning in her gut while resisting the urge to itch the leathery skin that now crept past her elbows. “How long before we reach the witch?” she finally asked, tired of the deafening silence that stretched between them, leaving only the crackling fire to fill the void.
“We’re not far,” he answered, his voice devoid of inflection as the flame’s shadows danced across his hollowed cheeks. “We should find her by tomorrow.”
She was growing ever tired of his aloofness. He had not once tried to kiss or pet her since they’d left Peloponese. He had offered her no reassurances, not even a kind word. “And then what?”
His gaze snapped to hers, his eyes flaring with rage, stealing the breath from her lungs. She’d seen that look before, the night in Peloponese he’d forced himself into her bed. Though she knew he wouldn’t force her to lie with him now, she feared what else he might do as she eyed the sword strapped to his hip.
He took another long sip from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And then I demand she change you back.”
Her throat tightened as her eyes watered. “What if she refuses?”
His features hardened. “She won’t.”
“How do you know?” she pressed. She couldn’t help it, for she feared his plan was doomed to fail.
“Because she’s a feeble, simple-minded witch.” He waved away her concern with a sneer. “She will do as I command.”
The witch inside her let out a mad cackle, and she feared her uncle was making a terrible mistake.
He patted his breast pocket with a wicked gleam. “Plus, I have her book.”
“Book?” she asked.
He nodded. “I stole it when last we visited just in case I ever needed leverage over her. It is supposedly the book of demon names.” He pulled out a book with dull, brown leather bindings that fit inside his hand. “I can’t decipher it, but she kept it in her pocket, so I’m sure it meant something to her.”
He made no sense. “If you can’t decipher it, how did you know my demon name?”
His eyes flared with memories as a forked tongue darted out and licked his lips. “I extracted it from you when you were just a tot. You may not remember, but I used a combination of torture and truth serum on you, and now I have the power to control not just you, but the demon inside you.”
Torture? When she was a tot? What a monster! “Then why can’t you send her back?” Arabella held up her hideous hands. “And get rid of these?”
He jerked back, scowling at the bloated sausages extending from her arms. “I don’t know, but the striga will.”
Arabella was about to ask the significance of the book, but she jumped with a shriek when something poked her backside. She ran to her uncle as he stumbled to his feet, pocketing the book and unsheathing his sword.
“Uncle!” She grabbed his arm. “There’s something moving out there!”
He shook her off as if she had the plague. “Don’t touch me!” he roared, raising his sword.
She flinched, backing away, her heart shattering at the look of disgust in his eyes. Then she and her uncle froze when a distinct sound echoed through the forest, like a million raindrops striking slate.
They spun around, and her stomach hurled into her throat at the sight, thousands of little glowing red eyes blinking at them. They were everywhere, on the ground, on the tree trunks, even hanging from the limbs, their bodies obscured by the night.
Her uncle shone his flame on them, then hollered and jumped into the air, leaving her defenseless on the ground.
“Uncle!” she shrieked as the creatures surrounded her. She lurched for her uncle, grabbing onto his ankle, but he kicked her away with a snarl.
No! He can’t do this to me! He said he loved me!
