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Fury strikes me like lightning, burning me to the marrow.
“Never,” I snarl.
I did not endure eight centuries of chastity to end up imprisoned. A last reserve of magic raises my body off the platform before the witches can attack.
“He’s escaping,” someone screams.
I dig my heels into the stone and soak in more power through my feet. It travels up my bones, into my gut, and fills my entire torso. It unfurls my wings and makes my chest markings burn like brands.
After eight centuries, I have found my betrayer.
Magic sizzles across my skin, bathing me with strength. It looks like the Barghest left me with a cache of power so I could murder my wife no matter my weakened state.
What a pity the witches used my blood to lock him out of the human realm.
Now, he will never obtain his end of our bargain.
“Where did he go?” the aunt screeches.
Wonderful.
My invisibility has returned.
The witches raise their wands and attack, filling my vision with streams of red and white and blue. I’m so glutted with power that their magic passes through my body and hits the other members of their coven.
“Stop attacking,” the grandmother shouts.
“What’s happening?” one of the witches asks.
“Cast revealing spells. Strengthen the wards. He must not escape.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of leaving,” I snarl, but the witches cannot hear my words.
I ignore their cries, ignore their spells, ignore their attempts to make me reappear. At this moment, all rational thoughts drift into the ether, and my entire world reduces to my desiccated wife.
“You are dead, and your soul has departed the earth,” I snarl. “But I will destroy every part of you that remains.”
I point a clawed finger at her chest. “Once I take your descendants, I will devour your magic.”
The light in her empty eye sockets flickers as though part of her still lingers among the witches. Perhaps my wife is trying to protect her progeny.
My chest fills with triumph, and I flare out my wings. I want her to see them fall.
Panic fills the air as the witches continue to struggle. On the edges of their alarm are delicious morsels of terror. Terror that will only add to my power.
My mouth waters and the magic racing through my veins urges me to feed.
I turn to my wife and grin. “Watch me drain every drop of fear from their carcasses, every drop of magic until they join you in death.”
Shadows shoot out from my feet and snake around each of the witches’ throats. My jaw drops. I had not expected it to be so easy, since they all wear protective amulets.
Perhaps their protection doesn’t work in their innermost sanctum. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already tasted their terror. Perhaps I’m so close to their progenitor that nothing fully works.
I lift the witches off the ground and revel in their screams. Their fright is flavorsome and rich with power. I soak in their magic and moan.
“Henry Curtmantle,” the grandmother says, her words choked. “Release my coven at once.”
Snarling, I shake the older woman until her teeth rattle. “Call me Henry again and you will be the first to die.”
