The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(13)

Each step of his feet through the woods rang through them like a vibration, the fight the forest gave him minimal to keep him on my trail. I couldn’t risk him deciding to go after Ash instead.

He would be easy prey.

I returned my knife to my sheath, hefting my handmade stake fashioned from the hawthorn tree and testing its weight.

He moved out of the clearing, his body traveling at a speed I had no hope of really seeing. He emerged in a swirling black mass that was stark against the setting sun. Bats fluttered as they left him, flying around his body in a vortex that must have protected him from the worst of the damage the forest could cause.

A single gash sliced across his cheekbone, cutting through the ethereal beauty as he bared his teeth at me. A trickle of blood stained his cheek. His eyes fell to the stake clutched in my hand, the animalistic look in his eyes making them seem darker when he raised them to mine finally.

“Careful, Witchling. At some point, this will all cease to be entertaining,” he said, taking a step toward me.

The trees reacted before I did, a root swiping for his feet. He jumped over it without taking his gaze from mine, advancing as those bats fluttered protectively.

A branch lashed out, aiming for his throat, but the tiny creature blocked it, taking the blow meant for him with a screech.

I held out my free hand, signaling the trees to stop their attack. While the Vessel might have been willing to sacrifice them to the fight, that was something I couldn’t tolerate.

The Vessel turned his head to look at where the branches withdrew, studying me curiously. “It’s just my kind you want to kill then?” he asked, laughing as if the thought was ridiculous.

It made me want to prove that I could do it, but unless I got the perfect shot, it would be next to impossible. A Vessel could only be destroyed by a Necromancer, their magic sending the thing within back to the depths of Hell. A stake could do the job, technically, if a witch managed to slip their magic into the chasm where the heart might have been.

Mine was a stake carved from wood. A Blue needed to find a way to slip water within their heart chasm, a Yellow fire.

But it wasn’t just the element itself that needed to fill the hole in their existence, but the essence of magic it would take to unmake the Vessel. Only a Black could do it without great personal sacrifice. It wasn’t a sacrifice many witches were willing to make.

Not when it drained them of everything and left them powerless. A fate worse than death for a witch of the Coven.

Humanity.

“I’m not stupid enough to think I can kill you,” I said in answer, spinning the stake in my hand dramatically, distracting him, stalling for time. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t maim you.”

The Vessel moved so slowly, acting as if he could sneak up on me before I realized what he was doing. I waited until he was within my grasp, letting him get far too close for my comfort. The scent of him washed over me, filling the woods with it. It was the scent of wet soil after a light summer rain, earthen and fresh all at once.

When his foot struck the leaves that the trees had gathered around me, I leapt forward. A tree root raised beneath me, shoving me forward and giving me momentum as I flung myself toward him. I drove the stake toward his heartless chest, screaming as I channeled my magic into the wood in my hand.

The forest around us went silent, my magic leaving it to focus on that stake. Headmaster Thorne caught my wrist just as the tip touched the fabric of his suit. He fell backward as the rest of my body followed, crashing into him so that he landed on the forest floor.

I fell on top of him, scrambling to get my legs around his hips even as his grip tightened on my wrist. He held me with ease, squeezing at the joint until I felt my bones grind together.

“Release it,” he ordered. I pressed my other hand to his chest, pushing myself up so that I sat astride his hips and put all my weight into the hand he seemed determined to shatter.

“Fuck you,“ I snarled, pressing harder. His eyes widened as it indented the fabric, the stake slipping just slightly closer to his chest.

He grinned, a cruel laugh sliding over my skin as he wrapped his free hand around the front of my throat. He squeezed, cutting off my breath as the webbing between his thumb and index finger pressed against my windpipe.

“Gladly, Witchling. Though I must admit, I thought I’d need to buy you dinner first.”

He used it to flip me to my back suddenly, and I might have lost the air in my lungs if he hadn’t already stolen it. His body covered mine immediately, slipping between my thighs and holding me still. With his body pinning my hips, his hand on my throat and the other grasping my wrist, I did the only thing I could do.

I used my other hand to grab him by the hair, tugging his head to the side as he glared down at me. His fangs gleamed in the darkness. His eyes drifted closed as I pulled, trying to yank him back so that he would release my throat. Instead, he only laughed again, running his tongue over his teeth before that haunting blue stare met mine.

“You’re quite the little demon, aren’t you?”

“Do not insult me by comparing me to your kind, bloodsucker,” I hissed.

“I wouldn’t dare to insult you, love. It’s a compliment,” he said, his thumb pressing harder into the side of my neck where he gripped it. He tipped it to the side, baring my neck to his gaze as my eyes widened with realization.

I released the stake, attempting to push my hand into the dirt beneath my body to connect to the forest once more. He dropped his head toward me too quickly, his mouth approaching my exposed neck.