Unfamiliar Self [Book Three]

Chapter Thirty-Eight | Head of the Snake

           

"You don't scare me," I hissed back at Abigail. "None of you have been able to stop us. Not really. Our desire to live is stronger than yours."

            The witch's face never changed as she pulled away from me and straightened herself. Maple and I were watching her carefully as she moved to stand somewhere between the two of us. My own eyes trailed to the gun she had holstered at her side.

            "Our goal was never to inspire fear, Foxy. That was your job, and you have done so splendidly."

...

            The savage breathing and baying of the dog was right in Mary's ears. Nothing but dirt and darkness flashed through her vision as she fled through the tunnels. The torches obediently lit the path ahead of her, for what little good they did. There was nowhere to go but forward. No adjourning tunnels. No doors.

            For a fleeting, frantic moment the familiar worried that she had led herself astray in her panic. But, no, she was sure of where she had been. She was positive she had traversed this tunnel just hours before and there had been a myriad of paths for her to take. Door or no door, there should have been more tunnels.

            It was only when she saw the dead end that lay before her that she realized her mistake. Or, rather, that something had occurred beyond the very scope of her imagining.

...

            "You say we are trapped and cornered down here," Abigail went on before I could say anything, her dark eyes trailing between Maple and I. "But many of the witches who once claimed themselves free of Wildwood now work directly under us, and the few who remain are bringing themselves right to our doorstep. You gloat about your accomplishments over your 'friends' and witches alike but, from what we have gathered from Mouse and the children, you only lead because they fear you. And while fear may be a useful tool, it only lasts for as long as the one who wields it remains infallible."

            "I did what I did to help them," I shot back while holding down a snarl, ignoring Maple who was now staring at me. "And they went along with it because they wanted to be free and they needed me to make that happen."

            "How very noble of you. But does anyone else see it that way? For all the familiars have suffered since your attempt to ruin us, do you truly believe they merely follow you out of generosity? They all know what you are capable of. They have all seen the remains of that poor Quincy girl—"

            "Shut-up!" I roared, trying and failing to, at the very least, rise up from the ground. "You weren't there—none of them were there. Meadow did what she did to save me and I wasn't in the condition to stop her. She sacrificed herself for the sake of her family so don't you fucking dare try and twist that to suit your needs."

            Abigail didn't budge. Not a twitch in her face or body. Only her dark eyes reflected any life at all as they studied me. "And once again you fall back to anger as your sole recourse. It must feel like a very comfortable skin by now, but it does little to serve your needs. Children and those whose minds are broken might fear you, but I do not."

            "Not yet, but you will," I swore, my voice trembling as I struggled to control my temper. "When Ninovan and the others come and tear this place down, I'll make sure of it."

            The witch did not break my glare. She didn't even blink as she said, "I think not."

...

            Mouse hadn't been trying to wear her Master down. He wasn't being pushed to his limits. He had been testing them. Testing her. Those weren't just doors she had been seeing, they were entire networks of tunnels. Tunnels he created just to mess with her. Tunnels that lead her to believe she knew exactly where she was.