Page 123 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

The chorus of howls grew louder. I whirled around, looking for anything that might allow me to cut my bonds. Spotting a jagged stone sticking out of the earth, I threw myself to my knees and began hacking away at the rope. It was no use. The twine was thick, enchanted perhaps. Panic took hold of me, constricting my chest. My vision blurred.

I took a shaky breath, pressing the heels of my bound hands to my eyes to stem the flow of tears that were threatening to erupt. “No,” I said stubbornly. “This will not be what breaks you.”

I sat back on my heels, inhaling a ragged breath. I held it for just a moment before releasing it into the cold evening air. Like Ivor had taught me. My thoughts clearer, I forced myself back to my work. The only sound for several minutes was the scratching of twine against rock. The edges of my bonds frayed agonizingly slowly before the twine finally gave, splitting in two with a snap.

“Aha!” I cried, flexing my fingers. “Not bad, Erramun.”

I pushed myself to my feet. Staring into the empty space before me, I visualized the sprawling grounds of Hollybrook. Blood rushed into my fingertips, but no portal appeared. A dull ache bloomed between my temples.

I sniffed at my wrists. The faint scent of angelica lingered, anchoring me to the strange woods. “Okay,” I said to myself, choking down the unease that grew with every howl carried in on the breeze. “Try something else. Something simpler.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I’d projected my will plenty of times before, I reasoned. Granted, my targets had typically been only a few feet away, but I knew that it was possible to do more. If I could cast my thoughts out into space, I could find Enhart. Guide him to me. A sense of calm rushed through my veins. I will find him.

Enhart, I thought, unfurling my will like a spool of thread. I’m here.

The breeze rustled the dead leaves of the trees above me. Small creatures scuttled by, their eyes flashing in the dark. Somewhere, an owl hooted into the darkness.

I exhaled again. Enhart.

A branch snapped behind me and I froze.

Before I could scream, Enhart appeared before me. Relief crashed over me at the sight of his face. Without thinking, I threw my arms around him. He hesitated for a moment before squeezing me back, his hand cupping the back of my head.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m here now.”

“Thank the gods,” I murmured into his coat.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his gaze raking over my trembling frame. I shook my head. His expression darkened as he laid eyes on my bloodied cheek. He swept his fingers under my chin, running a thumb along my jaw as he examined the wound beneath the pale light of the moon. He sucked in a breath as if smelling me. I watched wordlessly as his lip curled.

“I’m fine, I …” I trailed off, recognizing the look in his eyes.

As quickly as it had changed, his face became placid once again. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

“I know,” I whispered.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. Wherever the encampment was, it hadn’t mattered that I was without shoes and clad in only a thin shift. Here, my skin pimpled in the wind. “Where are we?”

“Not far from the university,” he replied. Loosing the clasp nestled against the hollow of his throat, he peeled off his cloak and draped it around my shoulders. I gratefully folded my hands into the fabric as the now-familiar scent of petrichor wafted toward my nose. “We’ve been combing the area for you since we awoke to find you gone. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to hear your voice.”

My heart fluttered pathetically for the briefest of moments before a moan echoed through the trees. “What is that?” I asked, my blood running cold.

“I didn’t bring the horses,” Enhart said, ignoring my question. “I thought they would slow me down. Can you phase?”

“I don’t think so,” I whispered. “I tried but—but it didn’t work. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assured me. “I can smell the angelica on you.”

“You can?” I asked.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yes. I’ll wait to ask who it is I need to throttle for using it on you until you’re safely back at Hollybrook. We’ll go on foot.”

“Witches,” I croaked, seizing his sleeve. “It was witches. Dozens of them. How is it possible?”

His lips parted, but for a moment no words came out. Another moan sounded. This time, though, it was much closer. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“I have about a thousand questions for you,” he said hurriedly. “But we should get you out of here before— Fuck.”

The musty stench of death wrinkled my nose. Enhart’s eyes scanned the woods behind me.