Entangled

As I climbed out of the tower window, I rubbed my swollen lip and winced from the sting. My back pinched from the whippings I’d received last night, but I didn’t stop. Today, I was breaking free. I would risk everything to escape my captor. To gain freedom. To stop the insanity developed over the past eight years from eating away at my mind.

The sun dipped behind the horizon of trees, smearing the sky in bloody streaks. In the distance, the bastard who beat me each time I left the tower sailed through the sky. But he also attacked anything that came near the tower. His stone wings flapped, and his hideous gargoyle mouth gaped open. He dove toward birds picking at the food I’d placed near the woods yesterday for a distraction so I could escape. Besides, I’d left enough food scattered in the field for dozens of disturbances as more animals would be drawn to the scents.

My stomach churned and my hands shook, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. I scaled down the makeshift rope comprised of bed sheets tied together.

The witch with purple eyes who had shoved me in the tower eight years ago had never returned to check on me or even bothered to barricade the only window on the tower. Why would she when she’d compelled a freaking gargoyle to watch over me? I was clearly a nobody and she probably forgot about me. Then again, she’d made sure I had food magically appear in the tower as if she intended for me to sit there for eternity. I’d attempted to escape so many times, each ending in a beating and me getting tossed back into the tower. I hated her, and one day, I’d get my revenge.

Hurry. This is your chance, my subconscious repeated in my head, like she always did. Reminding me of my mistakes, what I should do, and other nagging things. But this time, she was right about getting a move on. The voice in my head had been there ever since I was thrown into the tower. I called her my make-believe friend, but I wasn’t stupid and knew it was my twisted mind dealing with my loneliness. Yes, I spoke to myself, and my mind responded, but she offered me a sliver of company. Anything to stop the insanity of being on my own.

I scrambled out of the window. The bag on my back bounced about as I jerked downward.

Behind me, the gargoyle glided toward the tower’s roof, and I froze. Sweat drenched my skin, and my shirt clung to my skin as I trembled. My arms ached from holding on, but if I moved at all, he’d see me. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying he’d leave and go kill some defenseless animal in the forest or something.

Stone fragments cascaded down from the roof. I opened my eyes.

He vanished, and I slid down in haste. But all at once the fabric slackened in my hands. I fell, my arms flaying outward. A yelp pushed against my throat. The rope fell out of the window, along with the table I’d tied it to. I hit the enormous shrubs with a thud, the air in my lungs gushing out. I groaned. The material landed on me in a heap, and I covered my head with my arms. The table fell inches from me. A loud crack of wood sounding as it broke into dozens of pieces.

My heart raced, and breathing seemed impossible. A shadow fell over me, and I rolled beneath the bushes. My skin prickled as I pictured the monster coming for me, striking me until I writhed in my own blood.

But nothing came.

I peered out from my hiding spot to find the gargoyle rushing after more birds. So I scrambled to my feet and careened around the tower. Stubs of ruins dotted the field, and I leaped over them, the wind ripping at my clothes. I pushed the bag strap up my shoulder, my ridiculously long hair stuffed inside.

Never stop. This is your chance.

My pulse pounded in my ears. Goosebumps crawled up my legs. I looked back. No sign. The creature would be distracted long enough for me to put distance between us.

On a previous escape, I’d run into someone. A magic caster who’d agreed to create an incantation to finish off the gargoyle, but I’d had to collect it from her home. It had come with a hefty cost of ten thousand gold coins, which could buy a small mansion. Of course, I didn’t have the money, which I had made clear to the witch, but I’d guaranteed her I’d repay her in installments. Otherwise, she’d come for my blood. If her spell worked and got rid of the gargoyle, I’d be free from my prison, meaning I’d take any job to earn the money I owed.

I burst into the thick forest. The gargoyle would find me soon enough. He always chased me down after a while, and I figured he somehow sensed wherever I went. Who knew how, but I despised the notion of being connected with him in any way. And now, I needed time to reach the witch’s home. Dread squeezed my lungs because last time I’d dealt with a witch, I’d ended up trapped in a tower. Could I really trust another magic caster?

Night fell over the woods. I jumped over a dead log and dodged a low-hanging branch. When I finally reached the track in the forest, I swung left and darted. My lungs burned for air. Around the next bend, I spotted the back of a carriage. My ride.

It stood near Ghost, a tiny town only open at night for anyone who dared to venture into the depths of the Darkwoods. No one lived here, as it was an entertainment center for those looking to gamble, get drunk, or find a woman for the night.

But I’d also discovered that the carriage traveled here from Tritonia with deliveries of rum. The black vehicle already rolled forward, the wagon covered with a tight canopy, and the back flapped open. Perfect. I pushed forward, but they moved too fast.

“Wait!” I called out, running after them. “Please, wait!”

The cart vanished into the shadows, and I cried out in frustration. Stopping in the middle of the track, I gasped for air, and my stomach somersaulted.

He’ll come for you. Keep moving.

I scanned the empty woods behind me, trembling. Ahead was the tiny town, huddled amid the lush green trees with basically two main businesses: a tavern and masseuse house. I heard the beat of horses’ hooves, then rushed forward when another carriage emerged from behind the tavern. Laughter belched out from inside the building.

Two terrifying black stallions pulled the covered carriage. Each had two red horns on their brows and snorted fire. No rider guided the beasts. I shuddered and recoiled.

Dragon horses. Larger than the average horse, they were fast, and once they learned to follow a path, they traveled it without stopping for anyone. I’d read about them in books because the witch who had locked me up had a sense of humor. She’d filled the tower with furniture, magically generated food, clothes, and walls full of books. Maybe she’d figured if I was away from the world, I might as well read up on it.

Move. Get ready.

“Yes, I know.” I rushed along the path where it merged with the path leading out of town and waited behind a tree.

The moment the cart passed by, I leaped up into the back, where the covering flapped in the wind. Dimness greeted me inside, and I scrambled forward on hands and knees as the carriage bounced beneath me. Empty wooden boxes were tied to the edges of the carriage, so I pushed myself into a corner and curled up, hugging my knees. I prayed the gargoyle hadn’t sensed me leave yet and we’d travel fast enough to avoid the monster…at least for longer than ever before.

***

The moon crawled behind the gathering clouds, plunging the open field into a murky darkness. I’d jumped out of the wagon a while back and crossed the woods in haste. Only a few stars freckled the black sky. I pushed one leg in front of the other, despite my ragged breaths and aching muscles. I’d been on the run for the past day.

Never stop.

A quick glance over my shoulder, and a shiver clawed up my spine. No silhouette shifted through the forest at my back. The sky remained silent, peaceful. No movement. That didn’t mean shit. He always came for me, found me, and beat me. I gasped at the thought and sprinted faster. I had to put distance between me and him.

Gripping the straps of my backpack, I raced toward the lights amid the lofty trees ahead. They sparkled like fireflies. Wakefield, the village in this godforsaken Tritonia realm, was my destination. Sweat beaded across my upper lip. I wiped it away, hating the humidity, the insects trying to chew off my eyelids. I’d been on the run for most of the day and night. But this was my chance to break free from my prison, to never be locked up or forgotten again. Desperation crept through me.

A growl screeched through the hot, stifling air behind me.

I flinched as I turned around, my breaths caught in my chest, and my hand fell to the dagger on my belt. The unforgiving place lay silent, swallowed by the night, and my earlier reassurance ebbed away.

Never stop! This time, if the gargoyle catches you, he’ll shatter more than your bones.

“Yes, you’re right,” I mumbled under my voice, thankful she was speaking to me. I felt less alone.

I trembled and kept running.

Salvation is near. Yes, you can do this.

Flamed torches lined the street in the distance, and I closed in on them. A briny, salty scent found me. The ocean lay close—the place where pirates plundered, witches ruled, and mermaids lured you to your death if you dared enter their watery realm. But I’d risk that and more to gain liberty. To stop the insanity eating away at my mind and the torture destroying my body.

Desperation pressed on my heaving lungs. My captor was somewhere on my heels.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

“Enough!” I’d had it all planned out.

Evade the guardian.

Collect the spell to eradicate him.

And put an end to my incarcerated life.

Shifting the heavy bag across my back, my hair too long and cumbersome to not keep contained, I trampled the grass and foliage, hurrying closer to the village. I emerged from the forest. Huts riddled the tiny village, their windows dark, as if unoccupied.

A dozen homes flanked the wide dirt track. No fences, just shrubs and flowers. By daytime, the place might have resembled a quaint town, but now, I might as well have stepped into a nightmare. I couldn’t stop shivering from the feeling of being watched.

Just get this done quick. Move fast.

Bones tied to a rope dangled from the front porch of one house, and with the sudden gust of air, they clattered, announcing my arrival to the homeowner. Enormous oaks with branches fanning out wide stood like a wall behind the houses. They rustled and seemed to whisper on the warm breeze that whirled around me.

Hurrying onward, I ignored the three cats prowling across another lawn watching me with their lamp-like eyes. Their brown-black fur fluttered in the wind. They weren’t skinny, so someone fed them well.

The silence stroked my skin like a cold wind filled with jagged edges. I breathed heavily, scanning the makeshift road. The witch had given me instructions and I’d followed them to a T. Travel the thick woods of Tritonia. Check. Overhead, the glorious silvery orb hung full. Check. Creepy town where witches lived. Check. Yep, this was the place. Now to find the house with a single burning candle sitting on the windowsill.

Stop overthinking everything. Keep moving.

I rolled my eyes and marched past a double-story building covered in tiny bones…wait, no! I squinted for a better look. Shriveled vines, barren of leaves.

The wind swept against me, bones rattling, the felines yowling. Creepy-ass naked dolls were scattered on a lawn, and I ran past. “Please don’t come to life.”

I strangled the bag straps over my shoulders and approached the last home on the road. A single candle sat on the front windowsill. This was it.

My flesh rippled into goosebumps, and I glanced behind me. The street lay abandoned. No shadow following me.

Do this fast.

“You don’t say.” I marched down a rocky path across the yard toward the porch. The stairs creaked beneath my steps, and I knocked, praying I hadn’t made a mistake and picked the wrong house. I really didn’t need to upset a witch tonight.

I took another glance around, but there was no sign of my pursuer.

When the door groaned open, I spun to face Vanore, the witch I’d met in Darkwoods who’d promised to help and whose smile now offered me hope. I breathed a sigh of relief. Her expression morphed into one of pity, but I didn’t care. If that made her want to aid me, then yep, she could feel sorry for me until the cows came home.

The swirled tattoos across her cheeks and brow creased when she smiled again, revealing two golden canine teeth. Her skin was deeply sun-kissed, and her eyes were as dark as tar, matching her dreadlocks. She gripped the waist of her mauve dress, her sleeves long and ruffled.

“Ey, Elliana girl, thought you’d break our arrangement.” She spoke with a burr where the letter ‘r’ trilled each time she pronounced it. She reached out, taking my elbow, her grip iron strong. “Let’s get inside.” She stared at something behind me. “Nothing good comes of lingering in doorways.”

When I turned to look behind, she dragged me into her home and slammed the door shut. I should have panicked, but I was desperate, ready to trust anyone who offered salvation. And in the grander scheme of things, I’d take my chances with the witch with a softness in her eyes.

A strong smell of spices and burnt wood permeated the air. To my right lay a battered brown sofa in the sitting room. Jars of various herbs and a large bowl brimming with white and black feathers sat on the coffee table. Curtains with holes covered the windows and only one remained open with the single candle on the sill. More candles littered the fireplace mantle, though I doubted it ever got cold enough in Tritonia to require a fire.

“Nice place.” My gaze settled on the dead crow on the floor near the foot of the table, its legs in the air. It was bigger than my foot. Was it dinner or for a concoction or some good luck charm?

“Me mama left the home to me, and her mama to her. Been in the family for five generations, and now this place is mine.” Her voice deepened, and I turned to find her rummaging through a tall wicker basket for dirty laundry, but I somehow suspected she used it for other purposes.

“No man getting their stinking hands on me home neither!” She snarled the word man, and I figured she had unresolved issues. But that wasn’t my problem because I hadn’t met any men in years, beyond what I remembered as a child about my dad and the people he’d visit to make his deals. He was a grand thief, renowned for his abilities in Darkwoods realm. I’d never known my mother, and he’d refused to speak about her. But Dad would take me on every heist, using me as his excuse for trespassing on anyone’s property if anyone caught him. I would fake-cry so people would think he was settling an upset young kid who had wandered onto their property. But most of the scum he’d dealt with would rip him off when it came to payment. That was a lifetime away now because when I’d been eight years of age, he’d made the grave mistake of stealing from a witch, and my life had changed forever. He had paid with his life, and I was thrown into the tower and kept in there by the stone guardian. And not a day went by when I didn’t think about the day when I would hunt the witch down and make her pay.

Vanore made a clicking sound with her tongue, and I refocused on her.

“Most men are bastards,” I added to fill the silence.

“Ey, you right there. They decide with their dick first, then the consequences of what they did comes later.” She glanced over. “How old are you? Fourteen or fifteen? Old enough to hear such talk.” Diving back into the wicker basket, she sighed.

“I’m sixteen.” Most days I felt like a child who had no clue about life beyond the things I read in books, but now I was enjoying Vanore’s company and her interacting with me as if I were normal. “Sounds as if you’ve met some bad men.” I strolled over to the cabinet and studied the array of tattered books stacked on top of each other. Most had missing spines or covers, but the ones still bound had titles like Magic for Sailors, Controlling the Elements, or Herbs and Aches.

“They have a split tongue and make better companions as cats.” She sniggered, and I recalled the animals outside. Had they once been men who’d cheated on a witch? Poor men, but they’d deserved what they’d gotten if they’d thought swindling a witch was ever a smart move. My thoughts flew back to my father. Stealing from a witch was the worst mistake of his life. Never lie to magical folk. That encounter had led to me getting locked up in a tower.

Get a move on. Remember what’s coming for you.

“Shhh. Don’t scare Vanore,” I whispered under my breath. “She’s about to give us a goddamn remedy to all our problems.”

“Found it!” she bellowed, and I flinched.

“Come ’ere, girl. Stop talking to yourself or they’ll call you crazy.”

The strap of my bag slid down my arm as I ambled toward Vanore. “Who’ll call me crazy?”

“People.” She frowned, as if I were indeed a child who didn’t understand the basics. “They ain’t understanding different and will judge.”

I stiffened. Was I different? Sure, I hadn’t lived amongst the community for years, but I was just like them.

You are different. Don’t kid yourself.

I shook my head. “I’m the same.”

“Concentrate, girl.” The witch grasped my hand and placed a soft pouch in my palm.

I drove away the thoughts, the ones that sometimes had a mind of their own, and focused on the bundle. Black fabric wrapped around a small parcel.

“Put that in your pocket.”

And I did.

“Now, we made a deal.” Her words darkened, her brow hooding over the tops of her eyes. “I gave you magic ingredients to smite the gargoyle for ten thousand gold coins.” She swung her arm out from behind her back with such speed, I didn’t see the knife she grabbed until the edge bit across my thumb.

“Ouch.” I wrenched my arm back.

But Vanore held on tight and pressed my thumb to her mouth, sticking it into her mouth and sucking on my blood.

My brain seized up at what was happening, and my free hand flew to my knife.

Her tongue rolled over my flesh, and I withdrew my arm hard, my finger popping out of her mouth. I stared at the bloody cut. “What is wrong with you? Who does that?” Panic curled deep in my gut. “T-This wasn’t part of the deal.”

I retreated until my legs hit the side to the sofa, and I gripped the knife still on my belt. What could I do? Stab her before she gave me a solution to finish the guardian?

She laughed and licked a drop of crimson from her lips. “Need to track you for me payment. And child, whoever put that spell on you was serious. It’s tangled with your soul, girl. Ain’t something anyone can remove but the caster.”

My breaths froze in my chest, and it took several tries to find them again. “You can sense the type of spell it is? Who did it?” I flirted with the idea of this being my salvation. A way to rid myself of the hex. A smile played at the corners of my lips as a weight lifted off my shoulders.

I turned sideways and wriggled the bag on my back, holding up my long hair with one hand. “Stupid strands won’t stop growing, and I can’t cut them. Trust me; I tried everything, even fire. So please tell me everything you know to break the curse.” The pleading in my voice made me cringe.

A flicker of hope sprung through me, and I reached out, my fingers extended for her arm. I clutched on to her as if my life depended on it.

“Elliana, me child.” She clasped my wrist the way my dad used to hold on to my hands when I got scared each time we went out on a heist. But the witch’s eyes carried sorrow, and it left me breathless.

“I ain’t got such insight—only that there’s darkness in your blood, the magic prickling me tongue, and its connection to your soul. Whoever did this to you had no intention of ever releasing you. I’m sorry. All I can do is help you with the stone guard and a temporary solution to your hair problems. Pray to the Goddess that my incantation frees you, and the witch responsible will leave you alone, but magic lays inside you. And since I don’t understand its purpose, I can’t assist you without endangering your life.”

My legs refused to hold me as I sank onto the couch.

You have no time to get soft. Get up.

My insides stung at hearing the absoluteness of my predicament. What if this spell notified the witch who’d cursed me? Would she return and lock me up again if I destroyed the gargoyle?

“Sorry, child. But your best bet is to find who cast this spell on you.”

I nodded and climbed to my feet. This wasn’t the time to fall apart.

“Now, as part of our bargain,” the witch continued, “I’ll take payment in ten installments as we agreed, and I will come to you every full moon to collect. If you fail to pay, I will slit the veins on your arms and use the blood to warm me rum. Death won’t allow you to escape.” She smiled her toothy grin and gone was the sympathy. Just like everyone my dad had dealt with, Vanore was in this for herself. I was a means to getting what she wanted. Nothing more.

I gasped but summoned my courage and lifted my chin. “Deal. Now tell me how to activate the herbs you gave me.”

“Good girl. First”—she counted on her fingers—“you must find an animal for the spell.”

I stiffened. “I’m not killing an animal.”

“Hush, girl.” She waved a hand between us as if I were a pesky gnat. “No killing required. Just do as I say. Second, best you do the incantation outdoors beneath the moon.”

“Okay, well, can I do it now? I saw a few cats outside.”

“No.” Her voice rose. “This must be done where your guard lives, as the magic on you both will be strongest there. Soak the herbs I gave you in water for you and the animal to use together. But first, let the concoction sit in the moonlight for a short while, then—”

A sudden crashing explosion detonated behind me, shards of wood pinging against my back and legs.

I shuddered on the spot, both the witch and me twisting toward the entrance in unison. The smashed door lay scattered around our feet.

The gargoyle stood there. My prison guard.

A strangled cry pressed on my throat and my feet glued to the rug.

His shoulders pushed past the edges of the doorway. Three long strides and he marched into the room.

He found you. Run. Run. Run.

“Bloody hell!” Vanore stammered.

Dread coiled in my chest and clung to my ribs. I dragged Vanore backward by a hand through the house. “The spell. What’re the words?” I couldn’t pull my gaze from the gargoyle made of rock, standing still for those few moments as if he had frozen in place. Stones the size of my palm covered his body, allowing his movement. His head was a boulder with empty eyes, a hooked nose, and buckled mouth. Oversized ears unnaturally pivoted, listening for anyone sneaking up on him. He stared down at me in the dim light with a sadistic grin, as if any second now the hatred in his expression would burst forth.

“Plague seize you,” Vanore called out as she tossed a handful of powder from her pocket at the guard. The contents sparked and bounced against him, but he didn’t budge.

“Run, child!” She nudged me toward the back of the house.

I stumbled into the kitchen, gasping. “Vanore, what’s the rest of the spell?”

But she didn’t answer me and hissed at the monster, “Devil take you!”

The guardian charged and shoved a hand against Vanore’s chest. She flew across the room and slammed into the wall, her breaths gushing out with a grunt. Powerful and final. Being hit by the side of a mountain wasn’t something one got up from. Vanore slumped to the ground in a heap and didn’t move.

“Vanore!” My body wracked with shivers. I ought to have dragged her to her feet, make sure she was all right. But the gargoyle now faced me, and it made more sense to lead him away from her so he wouldn’t hurt her further.

My heart hit the back of my throat, and I whipped around, sprinting across the kitchen and ripping open the back door. Panic snaked over my skin.

Outside, the hot wind buffeted into me. Without a thought, I swung left and dashed past the house and onto the road, dread chewing on my confidence.

Told ya. Told ya. He’ll punish you.

Numbness took hold of my thoughts, and I ran, crossing the dirt road.

Pounding footfalls closed in on me, but I didn’t dare to look back.

Icy daggers stabbed my heart.

He grabbed my bag with such force, I was hurled backward, hitting the ground with my ass. He ripped the bag off my arms. My hair burst free from the bag and splayed around me, swallowing me in its golden threads.

But when the gargoyle towered over me, I cried out and dragged myself away, picturing my punishment and how I’d failed. Was Vanore dead because of me? I choked on my hitched inhale.

His wings unfurled from his back, the sound of crushing stones grating in my ears. Magic had this creature flying with stone wings when it shouldn’t be able to. They snapped out wide and lengthened to six feet on each side, blotting out the moonlight. Claw-like daggers tipped the ends of the bat-like wings.

“Please don’t do this. Stop!” I backpedaled farther.

He stormed after me, his clawed hands seizing my ankles, his nails piercing into my skin.

I yelled out in agony, grabbing the dagger from my belt, and stabbing it into a crevice between two stones in the center of his chest. The knife met resistance. I shoved it in there with two hands, hearing a satisfying squish as the blade sank deep enough to make the gargoyle hiss.

He knocked my arms aside, and the sting lanced across my hands as he plucked the weapon free before hurling it into Vanore’s yard. There wasn’t any blood. The wound hadn’t even slowed him down.

A rush of air beat into me as we lifted off the ground, him dragging me upward, legs first.

My world swayed upside down. Dread swam in my stomach. Below, the town remained silent without a single person coming to my rescue. Would someone check on Vanore?

You’ve done it now. Yes, you’re in fucked-up shit here.

I blocked out the words as we coasted over forests and rivers and towns in Tritonia. The wind colliding into me had me swaying back and forth with each flap of the monster’s wings. Every inch of me throbbed with terror. Part of me had hoped I could cast the spell at Vanore’s house and then be free. But that was me being idiotic—to think anything could go well for a change.

Tears blurred my vision. They ran up and over my brow and into my hair. I’d spent the last eight years alone, and it was killing me every day just a little more, erasing my inner light with shadows of darkness. The rest of the world went on while I remained frozen in time, my life drifting away. I didn’t worry about where I’d end up in the afterlife, because I already lived in Hell.

Dizziness captured my head, and everything faded.

Branches slapped my face, and I woke startled. I must have been upside down for a while. Now we flew over treetops and up ahead, I spotted my prison. A circular tower stood erect amid the rubble of destroyed ruins.

I writhed, needing to escape. I didn’t want to go back there. The structure with a wide-brimmed flat roof soared over most of trees circling the open land. Moonlight lit the moss clinging to the sides of the stone walls. Woodland surrounded the open area like a great army watching my demise.

I wriggled in his grip for escape. We sailed toward the oversized window. The only way in and out of the tower. He tossed me through the window as if I were a rag doll.

I slammed into a wall and crumpled to the ground, groaning from the sharpness zapping over my spine.

A shadow fell over the window. The gargoyle hovered there, not a sound, as if proud of his catch.

But the moment his wings snapped flat against his sides and he hopped inside, I screamed. “Please no! I promise not to leave again.”

In his hand he carried a branch, and when he whipped it across my legs, I bellowed from the acidic sting. He never used his hands because stone would kill me, but breaking me was allowed. Permitted. Endlessly encouraged.

He snatched my leg and hurled me to the other side of the room. I crashed into my table and fell down, the table’s legs snapping under my weight. I sobbed. The pain was a spider web, spreading over me, intricately and viciously.

When the branch connected with my back, I yelled and arched. I couldn’t think beyond the agonizing strikes ripping me to shreds.

I lay on my back in a pool of my blood. A silvery hue stretched through the darkness inside the tower. My breaths wheezed with each exhale. My mouth tasted as if I’d been sucking on coins. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. I sobbed loudly, loathing how many times I’d been here: useless, defeated, trapped.

This wasn’t how the night should have gone. Every inch of me screamed from the sharp ache in my cuts, and I couldn’t even wriggle the toes on my left leg. What bones had the bastard broken this time? Desperation clung to me, the kind that pleaded for the end to come. I shut my eyes and lay there, letting my spinning head claim my thoughts.

***

I started to wake, as a light breeze brushed my cheek, my eyes flipping open to sunlight. Morning already? I pushed myself to a sitting position and it felt like my skin was splitting with each movement. Dried blood layered my arms while my foot lay at a weird angle. I hiccupped a breath as I reached over to move it. Excruciating pain sliced through me, stabbing the arch of my foot and racing up my leg. I cried out, curling in on myself, hating that the wound would take months to heal, hating the monster who gave no shit, and I was pissed with the universe for sending no one to help.

My dad had taught me to be quick with my hands, to steal the shirt off a person’s back without them noticing. I might have been young, yet he’d said I was the best. But when I’d turned eight, a lunatic man under the witch’s instructions had killed him, and my world had ended. I’d never forget him, or his wild, white hair and eyebrows. After that, the witch with purple irises, had shoved me into the tower, and she’d set the devil perched on the roof to watch me, wait for me to escape so he could beat the shit out of me. I was paying for my dad’s sins, but the price was too high. I dreamed of having friends, settling down in a real home, and once and for all, eradicating the gargoyle. But they were fantasies.

Told you to be careful.

“Shut up!” I didn’t need snarky remarks from myself right now.

Broken chairs and a shattered bookshelf surrounded me. Books lay scattered across the enormous room. They had found their way to the foot of my double bed, near the unlit fireplace, and into the small exercise section to keep my body moving, and my head sane. The whole place was an oversized room with all necessary amenities, and food that replicated the moment I removed it from the pantry. The wood-fire did the same, and even hot water magically ran from the bathroom and kitchen taps. Everything I could want while I rotted my life away. The witch didn’t intend for me to starve or die…She needed to keep me alive for a reason I didn’t understand.

Who the fuck knows why?

Was it to punish my father for stealing her wig made of real gold strands? Clear as day, I remembered the witch ordering her henchman to take my dad into the woods. I screamed for him to stop, to leave him alone. Moments later, the white-haired monster had returned, holding my poor father’s head. I’d fallen to my knees, and my world had shredded. Grief surged through every expelled breath, tears never stopped, and all I could picture for weeks afterward was his decapitated head. His lifeless, open eyes, and how I hadn’t been able do a thing to save him. The hole in my heart would never heal, but instead of grief, I now craved revenge.

So why had the witch offered me a comfortable life? Was it guilt for making an eight-year-old child see her dad’s decapitated head? All because he stole her gold wig. That couldn’t be worth a person’s life.

Was that why she had cursed my hair? As a lesson? It kept growing and was impossible to cut. I suspected it was meant to slow me down from running away.

But unlike my previous escape attempts, this time I’d brought something back. I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out the magic bag from Vanore. Thankfully, my injuries hadn’t been in vain. I prayed Vanore still lived.

Now I needed an animal for the spell and knew where to find one. So I dragged myself backward on my ass to the open, arched window. Groaning, I rolled onto my knees, grasping the windowsill with a death grip, and propped myself up on one foot, letting the wall hold my weight. I gasped for air, waiting for the waves of throbbing in my foot to subside.

Outside, woods surrounded the clearing. The place I called home. Below were old remnants of a castle…a wall, an arched doorway…the floor plan still visible from up here despite the weeds and flowers that now swallowed the landscape.

These woods had apparently once been home to the first human kingdom established in Darkwoods after Haven Realm had split into seven territories. That had been long ago—ancient times—and this location reeked of history. My books explained the land had once been grand and blossoming with vegetation, the most beautiful flowers. Castle walls dripped with precious crystals, gold. Except the royal lords had been greedy and overworked their staff with no compensation, despite having rooms piled high with jewels. When everyone rebelled, the family was attacked by enemies frantic to take their place. So this kingdom had housed the first royal family to fall. The remains were evidence of the price paid for corruption.

Some books stated the youngest son of the royal family had escaped death and ended up marrying a fae princess. So maybe the fae regal families weren’t as pure as they insisted. I smirked. Snobs, the lot of them.

The skies were a patchwork of clouds. Birds flew overhead, but down below not a creature stirred. Once night came, my little furry friend would arrive. I’d bring the little furball into the tower and do Vanore’s spell.

Now to clean and bandage myself. Determination plowed through me because tonight I’d eradicate the gargoyle problem once and for all. Even if I had to drag my leg behind me. That monster would never lay a hand on me again.

***

The partial moon hung low in the tapestry of stars overhead, but my gaze lowered to the base of the tower. I had to be close to fifty feet off the ground, and most nights, I dropped food to the ground for the only friend who visited me. And tonight, I was going fishing.

Sitting on a seat to help with my foot, I wore so many bandages, barely an inch of my skin was left exposed. The bowl of water and herbs from Vanore’s brew sat on a small stool nearby beneath the moon’s light.

How do you know this will work? What if you’re using the herbs wrong?

“Zip it. I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m not sitting here feeling sorry for myself anymore. I’ll try anything.” Plus, Vanore had said the herbs and water were to be used by both the animal and me. So we either splash ourselves or drink it.

I hung half out the window with my hair dangling over the edge. It didn’t reach the bottom, so I’d knotted a longer strip of linen with a fish tied to the end of my hair. The food was stinky enough to bring out most critters in the woods, but also delicious served with tomatoes and bread.

Bait set, I slouched forward, elbows resting against the windowsill, and waited. I had all the time in the world and could both laugh and cry at how pathetic that sounded. My thoughts flew to Vanore. She hadn’t given me all the instructions on casting the spell or what to do with the watery concoction and animal. No killing, that was clear. I’d spent the afternoon reading, but my books didn’t reveal a thing about spells cast with herbs. Since I used them for cooking, I was going with the theory of eating them.

You sure about this?

“Yes! No time for your doubts.”

Staring out into the darkness, the cypress and oaks swayed in the wind, as they had hundreds of times I’d studied them, and I wished someone…anyone would visit the ruins and defeat the gargoyle.

Rustling came from below, and I glanced down at the ginger cat with three legs rubbing herself against a nearby shrub. She must have lost one of her front legs at birth or in a fight, but it didn’t stop her from attacking lizards and bugs. The first time she’d appeared, she’d been skin and bones, so I’d fed her every night, and now she was plump and healthy. Luckily, she wasn’t noisy and never grabbed the gargoyle’s attention.

“Hello, princess. Look what I have for you. Yummy fish.” I jiggled my hair. I figured it was easier to capture her this way then go down there and chase her without the gargoyle noticing. Plus, with my injured foot, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to climb down the tower.

The cat lifted her head and sniffed the air, then pounced on the snack. I jerked my locks upward, but she missed, as I’d pulled up too fast.

Take your time.

I lowered the bait once more. She prowled closer, crouched low in hunting mode. Perfect.

A quick shake of the morsel.

The cat leaped after her meal, and I lifted my hair. She captured the treat with a claw, getting caught in the fabric, and I held my breath.

Yes.

I wrenched my hair up, one arm after the next, drawing her up into the tower. But halfway up, she bucked and fell into the bushes.

“No!”

She stood there amid the bushes, chewing on something. The fish. I’d never tried getting the cat in the tower before because I’d had no reason to, so maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.

“You dirty scoundrel.” With a sigh, I drew my hair up and tied another piece of fish to the end, then dropped the tresses out the window again. She’d eat all night if I continued to feed her.

Once again, I shook the offering. She attacked the swinging meal, and right when she jumped for it, I towed her up fast. This time, she panicked, but her claws were caught, entangled in my hair. She kicked and thrashed, twisting herself around my tresses like a fishnet capturing a mermaid.

“Don’t struggle. I won’t hurt you.” In haste, I pulled her toward me. She fought and hissed. I beamed with excitement because part one of my plan was falling into place. Now I just prayed to the heavens the rest worked out as easily.

“Come on, princess. I have something delicious for you to drink if you come inside.”

You sound creepy when you say it like that.

“Oh, keep quiet.”

The feline hissed, and I drew her through the window without hesitation. Her claw swiped the air, catching me on the arm. I flinched, dropping her. She crouched there, stomach flat to the floor, her eyes round discs peering out from the tangle of my golden hair. Blood bubbled on my arm, with the flesh itching already.

In haste, I shut the wooden shutters. The room glowed from the candles I’d lit up across the fireplace mantel.

The furball screeched and tossed about in my hair. I leaned closer to release her from the tangled mess, but she burst free and spun to face me. Her ears peeled back, and her lips curled over her fangs. Her menacing yowl echoed through the tower.

“Looks, I’m sorry for taking you, but it’s just a temporary thing. All right, I’m lying, as I’m not sure how this will go, but I need your help. Please. And in exchange, I will feed you and you can live here. I’ll build a ladder so you have a spot to stay when it rains.” I clutched at straws, guilt pulsing through me for drawing a poor cat into my problems, but we weren’t that different. Both alone, imperfect, and desperate for survival.

“I won’t harm you. How about I get you some food?” I shifted toward the kitchen, but she recoiled against the chair holding the bowl of herbal water. At that exact moment, the bowl rocked forward, and the contents splashed toward the cat, who glanced up with her mouth open, mid-meow.

The concoction hit her face and fell into her gaping mouth. I lunged toward it, arms stretched outward, catching the bowl with half the spell remaining. “Shit!”

The cat darted under the bed, and my heart beat rapidly.

Drink it now too, or you’ll waste the opportunity.

I gulped the water. Grittiness assaulted my tongue and tiny bits got stuck in my teeth. But I swallowed the briny, soil-tasting drink, and held back the gagging reflex.

Smacking my chest, I spat out a chunk that clung to my throat. A tiny piece of…What is that? Please don’t let it be a bone. I inspected the thin stem near the candle and heaved a sigh of relief. Only a twig. I stumbled onto the chair, my foot pinching with pain, and my stomach gurgling.

From beneath the bed came popping and noisy sniffing…not sounds a tiny feline should have made.

“Are you okay under there?”

A piercing ache stabbed me in the gut, and I clasped my arms around my middle. Panic swirled in my chest. I’d drank the spell without a second thought. What if I’d done the incantation wrong? My scalp itched as I tore at my head, unable to stop. The insatiability had me gritting my teeth.

“Hell!”

The orange furball scrambled out from under the bed, screeching as she crazily scratched herself. She clawed behind an ear with such vigor, she fell onto her side. It was then that I realized “Princess” wasn’t a girl at all. Geez, he had huge, round…I gawked and looked away. Not that it mattered when we resembled chimpanzees doing the itchy dance.

She…He meowed and glared at me with a look of what-have-you-done-to-me?

“Sorry, this is new for me too.” I raked my nails across the back of my head, relief lasting mere seconds. Heat bubbled in my chest, and I sweated like a beast, so I flipped open the window shutters. The cool breeze did little to help, but when a tingle started at my spine and climbed upward, I froze.

I exchanged glances with the ginger cat when golden sparks danced across his back. And at once, a lightning bolt zapped in from the heavens and struck us both in the chest.

Thrown to the ground, I writhed and screamed as my vision darkened. What the fuck was the spell doing?