Deadwater Kings • Part I ✓

02. THOU SHALT NOT SUFFER A WITCH TO LIVE

Lin's leg faltered beneath her when she took a step away from the railing. A hand reached out to grab the railing, not noticing the hot embers singeing her palm.

"No, not the time," she whispered, "not the time."

Her sigils warmed against her skin, soothing the weak jitters beneath her skin. Deep breath. She wiped her knife against her pants.

Lin swallowed blood and shook her head, veering off towards the stairs.

She nearly killed the girl—human—who stepped in front of her. Her knife stopped a breath away from the girl's olive throat. Lin's hand shot out to cover her mouth before the girl could scream, dragging her out of the staircase.

She slammed her into the wall, pressing close with an eye on the stairs.

"Why are you still here?" Lin hissed as she looked over the newcomer. She was a woman, really, likely a few years older than Lin.

She was around Lin's height—that is, stupidly short—but much slimmer. Her reddish-blond hair was frizzed out in soft waves, complementing her blue eyes. She stared at Lin with wide-eyed terror for a moment before lifting her trembling hands and forming a series of shapes.

Well, shit. And that wasn't what the woman was saying. Lin gritted her teeth and jabbed her finger at the woman's chest, then down the stairs. She added enough emphasis on the subject that the woman nodded vigorously. Lin stepped out into the staircase, checking for the witch.

Nothing. Her sigils wouldn't let her ignore it anyway. Lin jerked her head down the stairs, half-pushing the woman out.

Her shoes tapped against the stairs as she fled. Lin nodded to herself and started to follow her sigil's pulls when—

"Ealy!" Lin turned, eyebrows furrowed. The woman had stopped just at the stairs' curve, half a floor beneath Lin. Another woman, this one dressed in blue, stood gripping the woman's—Ealy's?—arms. She drew Ealy into a hug and looked over her shoulder at Lin.

The new woman was... Lin's tongue stumbled in her mouth. She should say something. A warning. A curse. Something.

Black-ringed eyes stared steadily up at Lin. Completely unreadable. The new woman was all wrong for the context. She was clean, regal, dressed in solid metal jewelry and an expensive blue dress that set off her near-black skin. Lin scarcely noticed her sigils scream at her until she felt heat prickle at the back of her neck.

Lin barely had time to scramble behind a conveniently placed vase before another wash of flame was upon her. She yelped and nabbed her hair before it got caught in the spiral of flame. Slamming her back against the heavy concrete, she hissed out a series of terrible words.

The women were already gone. Lin scowled at the scorched ends of her pale hair, giving it a hasty examination before twisting her hair into a ponytail and shoving it in her mouth.

The vase protected her surprisingly well, the brutal concrete barely warming. The witch must have been getting tired by that point. She had no visible protection against the might of magic, no gemstones or painted wards. Just her own flesh. She was burning out, one way or another.

Lin rolled her shoulders, adjusting herself into a crouch. The witch made no attempt at hiding her presence, her bare feet scraping on the stairs. When she was close enough, Lin swept low around the vase.

The fabric of the witch's dress ended at her calves, leaving enough room for Lin's knife. Lin swung around the witch, her blade biting into flesh repeatedly before slamming into the witch's throat. A scream ended in a soft gurgle, the witch's magic cutting off suddenly.