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The witch crossed the deserted town square, picking her way through the shattered merchant stalls and the bodies littering the ground. Although the report said she was only twenty-seven years old, she looked twice that age. Her black hair was streaked white, and her skin was corpse gray. The witch mark on her forehead—a branded circle signifying the watchful eye of the one true God—stood out in angry red relief. Witches who were caught early were branded as a warning and allowed to live. Some repented. If they continued down their dark path, they had to be destroyed.
This was the ninth witch Casrian had been called upon to kill since entering the king’s service. All of them demon-ridden. All of them corrupting the very land around them. All of them killing innocents before they could be stopped.
He wasn’t sure he still believed in second chances.
The witch slid into the shadow cast by the crumbling wall of what had once been the town hall. She’d burned that building to the ground two days ago with the city council inside. Smoke still rose in places from the smoldering timbers. Whether it had beenan act of revenge or an attempt to stop the council from sending a message for help, he didn’t know.
The messenger had found them on the north road, but even riding at a breakneck pace, they’d been too late to save the council.
Most of the townspeople had fled immediately after the fire, but he suspected that there were still some survivors about, holed up in the homes and shops that surrounded the square.
Crouching behind the rough stone wall, he waited for his men to reach their positions. Kenet was on the roof of the house nearest him. Asher had the house on the far side of the desecrated church. Fen had taken position in the gaping window across the town square.
The witch knew they were coming.
The birds were obviously under her control. Crows spiraled above the town, their black bodies painting a twisting, dancing pattern against the blue sky. Witches worked in patterns, bending the natural world to their will. Hexes to bind and repel. Spells to mesmerize and beguile. Last week they’d caught an old laundress who liked to stitch curses into the hems of customers who’d slighted her in one way or another. This one had an affinity for animals.
First the neighbor’s cattle. Then rats in the mayor’s house. A swarm of insects that choked the baker’s daughter. And now…this.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Magic moved through the town in a vicious current. The air was thick and, though it was very still, he could feel movement against his skin. The stroke of tiny invisible fingers down his back. Something tugging at his coat. Searching. Impatient.
The witch moved into the churchyard, stopping when she reached the cemetery plot. There she paused to make an obscene gesture at a statue of one of the venerable town fathers. Thecemetery was hallowed ground. She shouldn’t be able to stand there. She was mocking them.
Daris ran along the edge of the wall to join him. Squatting down, he peered over the iron grillwork set into the stone. “Aren and Ty can’t get behind her. There’s no cover past the hall. The wind must have been blowing in that direction when the fire caught. The buildings are gone.”
The plan had been to flush the witch out into the center of the square and shoot her so full of iron it would sever her connection to the demon who now controlled her. If she survived that, they’d administer last rites. There wouldn’t be much of her left by that point, not body or mind, but they’d send her spirit to rest if they could do it.
“I’ll distract her,” Casrian said, wrapping his hand around the leather strap of his crossbow. “You give the signal to the others when she’s in place.”
Daris caught his arm before he stepped from cover. “How aboutIdistract her andyougive the signal? You’re the captain. You’re supposed to be delegating these things, not running out ahead of us.”
Asher had a new wife. Fen a family. Daris could easily step into his role if needed.
“I’ll lure her out,” he said more firmly. “You give the signal. We can’t let her get away. If she makes it to the woods, there’ll be no tracking her. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He shook off Daris’s grip.
“Cas—”
He eased out from behind their meager cover. The witch’s head snapped up, turning unerringly in his direction.
The crows above scattered.
He stepped closer, dust and ash stirring beneath his feet. The witch crossed to meet him, moving with a strange, disjointedgait. She was fully possessed then. Demons had trouble at first controlling their new bodies.
The sky darkened. He could still see the sun shining brightly above, but it was as if it had been covered by a veil. The shadows in the square grew thicker.
The witch mark on the woman’s forehead glowed faintly in the gloom, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this. God was on his side. Consecrated as he was, he would never—could never—end up like the poor creature before him.
Aside from a few shreds of cloth around her wrists and neck, the witch was naked, her skin covered in ash. Her eyes were black, as flat and lifeless as river stones.
He stopped walking. Close enough.
“Emela Garn,” he shouted across the remaining distance. “You stand accused of witchcraft for a second time. The charge is justly made. You are a murderess as well as an oath breaker. God is ever forgiving. There is still time for you to repent.”
There wasn’tmuchtime.
