Saving Death

Chapter 28

I hammer on the farmhouse door with my fist. It rattles on its hinges and I'm half tempted to kick it down. "Wake up, witch!" I hear my own voice bellow into the night. It's three in the morning, but there's no way I'm dealing with this any longer. It's even driven me to upset the balance. What the hell has she done to me?

The door swings open and she regards me with caution. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she says, her eyes attempting to hide her mirth, but I'm not laughing. Fuming, I push the door wide and march past her into the tiny hallway, bracing myself against the doorframe of the kitchen. The burning is still there, only quenched for mere seconds when I reaped the girl.

Turning to face the witch, I stare at her from under hooded brows. She radiates life, and I have to swallow back my appetite once more. Not her. I need her.

"What is this, Seline?" I try for a calm and human approach.

"Oh, we're back on first name terms?" She says, eyeing me mercilessly. She's pushing her luck, but I need her to take this curse off me. I need time. I need the burning to stop.

"Get her out of me," I spit.

She narrows her eyes at me.

"I saw her." I don't want to explain how.

"Follow me," she says and walks towards the stairs leading to the upper level of the farmhouse—to the girl. I follow her and she turns into a small bedroom.

I feel like I've been here before; the space feels familiar. The room is lit by a small bedside lamp, which throws shadows onto the uneven white-washed walls. The curtains are closed, but flutter in the night breeze coming from the window. Under the window, laying on the bed, is a petit brown-haired girl. Her eyes are closed, but I know who she is: the hazel-eyed girl; the girl in my head—lifeless, though.

"I'll be right back." The witch leaves, closing the door behind her.

I turn back to the room. It feels familiar, but unease settles in me. I am alone with the girl. Who is she? I move to the edge of the bed and stare down at her. Her complexion is pale and her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful but something about that feels wrong. Her hair lays across the pillows and flows down over her shoulders. Ava. Is that her name?

Her skin looks so soft. I want to touch it. I reach out and trace my hand along her hairline and down the side of her face. The witch said I loved her, but reapers don't love. How could I love her? Reapers are devoid of emotion—devoid of humanity. I can't deny that this particular human is beautiful—inside and out. I can sense a darkness inside her that shimmers like black onyx. She is no normal human.

The witch reenters, and I take my hand away from the girl, but I'm too late. The witch sees. Something surges in my chest as she comes towards me and the girl, and I reposition myself so I am between the two of them. The witch pauses and assesses me.

"Do you recognise the room?" Her tone is cool and inquiring.

"No."

"Do you recognise the girl?" The witch nods towards the girl. Ava. I look at her again and, this time, something inside me twists uncomfortably. I look away again.

"No."

"Do you know she willingly died so you could continue?" She smiles.

I frown deeply at her. She isn't telling the truth. No human would do that. It doesn't make sense. Why would a human die to save a soulless entity that causes death?

"She loved you, Sam," the witch says, as if she can hear my thoughts. I narrow my eyes at her.

"I put a spell on you both," she says cautiously. I know she's debating whether to go further. Her heart beat is fluttering unevenly in her chest. She knows I'm as much a danger to her as she is to me. Taking a step towards me, she continues to explain.

"After you broke away from the coven, I knew they'd come for you both. I've been watching you very carefully over the past months..." She stops and licks her lips. She's unsure.

"Go on..." I say, through clenched teeth. I need this girl's soul out of me. Just go along with the witch, I tell myself.

"You were afraid of her to begin with. She produced feelings in you that you didn't understand, and you came to me for help. Luckily for you, you came to exactly the right person, and I knew how to help." She cocks her head to the side to monitor the girl, and when she looks back at me, her gaze is steady and her heartbeat slows.

"When you showed her who you are, she left and that's when I think you realised what she meant to you. I think that must have been when you realised what it was you felt. So, I vowed I wouldn't let them harm you. I used some of the darkest magic I've ever used, so that if she died, her life would be preserved inside you."

"That's not how it works..." I mutter darkly.

"I bent the rules." She glances at the girl again. "She lives in the very marks on your body, Sam. If you want her out of you, you need to gift her her soul."

I've never heard of anything like this before and look at her in suspicion. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"If I'm lying," the witch says with certainty, "you can take my soul." I stare at her in amazement. No witch would ever give up their soul willingly. Turning back to the girl, I know I should try. If it's a trick, I'll sense it quickly enough to take the witches soul. If it's not a trick, then hell, I could kiss the damned witch if she can make this burning stop. It's driving me mad. There's no way I can live with it forever, so I bite the bullet and place a hand to the girl's forehead.

There's not time to think. The pain is immediate and radiates all over my body. It is excruciating as if the girl's spirit is trying to expel itself from my very pores. I choke on my own vocal chords as I gasp for breath—then something tickles the inside of my throat. I try to cough, but I lose my breath and end up retching as the tickling turns to scratching. Fire ignites in my mouth and I think I'm going to be sick.

My whole body heaves, and a tiny black glint, like a firefly, momentarily hovers in the forefront of my mind. It's teasing me, and I want to grasp it back, but it begins to spin and glow. It becomes brighter as it swirls and, in an instant, expands – blinding me. I am knocked off of my feet and find myself staring at a thousand thoughts and memories: the girl standing in a barn screaming, grief filling my ears and my eyes, suffocating me; the girl dancing amidst coloured lights, kissing a boy; the same boy dying in a whirl of panic and pain; gushes of wind on a mountain top—I'm kissing the girl and her hazel eyes gaze at me; I am lying on a sofa with fire burning inside me whilst she presses warmth and pain to my skin.

I gasp and shuffle backwards, away from the swirl of memories. I'm breathing fast. Shock. I stare at the body on the bed as the memories fade away.

I wait...

She stirs and her eyes flicker open. Overcome by some desperate longing deep inside me, I scramble upright to see into them; and I'm astounded at their beauty. They are so full of sorrow and pain and grief and life—and love.

I stare at her. I can feel something rising in my chest and it's not pleasant. Something in my throat is choking me. What is this? What magic is this? The excruciating, burning sensation from before has gone, but something else is rising inside me. It's squeezing my insides. I can't breathe.

Stumbling back onto the floor, away from the girl, I turn angrily to the witch, but she only smiles at me triumphantly.