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Chapter 2
Ilay on my back in a pool of my blood. A silvery hue stretched through the darkness inside the tower. Breaths wheezed with each exhale, and my mouth tasted as if I’d been sucking on coins. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. I sobbed loudly, loathing how many times I’d been here: useless, defeated, trapped.
This wasn’t how the night should have gone. Every inch of me screamed from the sharp ache of my cuts, and I couldn’t even wriggle the toes on my left leg. What bones had the bastard broken this time? Desperation clung to me, the kind that pleaded for the end to come. I shut my eyes and lay there, letting my spinning head claim my thoughts.
* * *
A light breezebrushed my cheek, and I startled awake, my eyes flipping open to sunlight. Morning already? I pushed myself to a sitting position and winced as I swore my skin split with each movement. Dried blood layered my arms, and my foot lay at a weird angle. I hiccupped a breath as I reached over to move it. Excruciating pain sliced through me, stabbing the arch of my foot and racing up my leg. I cried out and curled in on myself, hating that the wound would take months to heal, hating the monster who gave no shit, and I was pissed with the universe for sending no one to help.
My dad had taught me to be quick with my hands, to steal the shirt off a person’s back without them noticing. I might have been young, yet he’d said I was the best. But when I’d turned eight, a lunatic man with wild, white hair and eyebrows had killed him, and my world had ended. His accomplice, a witch with purple irises and no front teeth, had shoved me into the tower, and she’d set the devil perched on the roof to watch me and wait for me to escape so he could beat the shit out of me. I was paying for my dad’s sins, but the price was too high, and I wondered often what other purpose the witch had for putting me in the tower. Yet I dreamed of having friends, settling down in a real home, and once and for all, eradicating the gargoyle.
Told you to be careful.
“Shut up!” I didn’t need snarky remarks from myself right now.
Broken chairs and a shattered bookshelf surrounded me. Books lay scattered across the enormous room. They had found their way to the foot of my double bed, near the unlit fireplace, and into the small exercise section to keep my body moving, my head sane. The whole place was an oversized room with all necessary amenities, and food that replicated the moment I removed it from the pantry. The wood-fire did the same, and even hot water magically ran from the bathroom and kitchen taps. Everything I could want while I rotted my life away. The witch didn’t intend for me to starve or die… She needed to keep me alive for a reason I didn’t understand.
Who the fuck knows why?
Was it to punish my father for stealing her wig made of real gold strands? Clear as day, I remembered the witch ordering her henchman to take my dad into the woods. I screamed for him to stop, to leave him alone. Moments later, the white-haired monster had returned, holding my poor father’s head. I’d fallen to my knees, and my world had shredded. Grief surged through every expelled breath, tears never stopped, and all I could picture for weeks afterward was his decapitated head. His dead, open eyes, and how I hadn’t been able do a thing to save him. The hole in my heart would never heal, but instead of grief, I now craved revenge.
So why had the witch offered me a comfortable life? Was it guilt for making an eight-year-old child see her dad’s decapitated head? All because he stole her gold wig. That couldn’t worth a person’s life.
Was that why she had cursed my hair? As a lesson? It kept growing and was impossible to cut. I suspected it was meant to slow me down from running away.
But unlike my previous escape attempts, this time I’d brought something back. I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out the magic bag from Vanore. Thankfully, my injuries hadn’t been in vain, and I prayed Vanore still lived.
Now I needed an animal for the spell and knew where to find one. So I dragged myself backward on my ass to the open, arched window. Groaning, I rolled onto my knees, grasping the windowsill with a death grip, and propped myself up on one foot, letting the wall hold my weight. I gasped for air, waiting for the waves of throbbing in my foot to subside.
Outside, woods surrounded the clearing. The place I called home. Below were old remnants of a castle… a wall, an arched doorway… the floor plan still visible from up here despite the weeds and flowers that now swallowed the landscape.
These woods had apparently once been home to the first human kingdom established in Darkwoods after Haven Realm had split into seven territories. That had been long ago—ancient times—and this location reeked of history. My books explained the land had once been grand and blossoming with vegetation and the most beautiful flowers. Castle walls dripped with precious crystals and gold. Except the royal lords had been greedy and overworked their staff with no compensation, despite having rooms piled high with jewels. When everyone rebelled, the family was attacked by enemies frantic to take their place. So this kingdom had housed the first royal family to fall. The remains were evidence of the price paid for corruption.
Some books stated the youngest son of the royal family had escaped death and ended up marrying a fae princess. So maybe the fae regal families weren’t as pure as they insisted. I smirked. Snobs, the lot of them.
The skies were a patchwork of clouds. Birds flew overhead, but down below not a creature stirred. Once night came, my little furry friend would arrive. I’d bring the little furball into the tower and do Vanore’s spell.
Now to clean and bandage myself. Determination plowed through me because tonight I’d eradicate the gargoyle problem once and for all. Even if I had to drag my leg behind me. That monster would never lay a hand on me again.
* * *
The partial moonhung low in the tapestry of stars overhead, but my gaze lowered to the base of the tower. I had to be close to fifty feet off the ground, and most nights, I dropped food to the ground for the only friend who visited me. And tonight, I was going fishing.
Sitting on a seat to help with my foot, I wore so many bandages, barely an inch of my skin was left exposed. The bowl of water and herbs from Vanore’s brew sat on a small stool nearby beneath the moon’s light.
How do you know this will work? What if you’re using the herbs wrong?
“Zip it. I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m not sitting here feeling sorry for myself anymore. I’ll try anything.” Plus, Vanore had said the herbs and water were to be used by both the animal and me. So either we splashed ourselves with it or drank it.
I hung half out the window with my hair dangling over the edge. It didn’t reach the bottom, so I’d knotted a longer strip of linen with a fish tied to the end of my hair. The food was stinky enough to bring out most critters in the woods, but also delicious served with tomatoes and bread.
Bait set, I slouched forward, elbows resting against the windowsill, and waited. I had all the time in the world and could both laugh and cry at how pathetic that sounded. My thoughts flew to Vanore. She hadn’t given me all the instructions on casting the spell or what to do with the watery concoction and animal. No killing, that was clear. I’d spent the afternoon reading, but my books didn’t reveal a thing about spells cast with herbs. Since I used them for cooking, I was going with theory of eating them.
You sure about this?
“Yes! No time for your doubts.”
Staring out into the darkness, the cypress and oaks swayed in the wind, as they had hundreds of times I’d studied them and I wished someone…anyonewould visit the ruins and defeat the gargoyle.
