Page 9 of Anomalies

Asilent death.

It’s what I wanted.

The board is ripped from me, falling instantly into the hands of the current, the riptide like a rope wrapping around my ankle and pulling taut. I choke on water, pummeled by a wave that yanks me right under the surface, far enough down that the current traps me entirely.

There is no fighting a riptide, and the Veila has sucked all my fight away.

The kick of my legs is weak, the swing of my arms is frantic, and all I can feel is the hard thud of my drowning heart. I try swimming parallel to the tide like I was always taught to do, but it’s no use.

It’s too late.

My vision blurs, my chest constricts, and an ice-cold numbness spreads through my body. I watch the surface grow farther and farther out of reach, the pale moonlight blurring. Everything blurring.

The water wraps around me as I’m pulled out to sea— but it’s a familiar and sacred embrace.

A peaceful one.

A silent death.

4

CALLAN

“Time to get up.”

I kick the body slumped against the dirt wall, and the dark witch groans, cracking open his eyelids to reveal putrid yellow irises. He yanks on his shackles, forgetting for the millionth time that they’re nailed to the wall behind him.

He’s been like this for a week, and still, he won’t talk, but we’re running out of time. They’ve sent a search party out for him, and they’re closing in.

I look around the cramped space. Easton is keeping watch at the hatch in the ceiling, his long, dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Devon lingers in the corner, his massive build towering to the ceiling, and Phoenix is picking the dirt out of his nails with his switchblade, his mismatched eyes flicking up to me now and again. The last two in my coven are outside, staying hidden, but close enough to warn Easton should someone get too close to the bunker. They’re all tired and ready to get back, but we have nothing to take with us. No information, no answers, and no survivors.

“Boss,” Devon mutters, snagging my attention. He nods towards the Rogue as his yellow eyes slip shut again.

I stalk forward, crouching before him. “I said, get up.”

He lifts his head, those foul yellow eyes dull and lifeless as they crack back open. His features are sharp, his cheeks hollow and pale. “Filthy Sol blood,” he snarls, his crooked teeth snapping together as he lunges forward. “You don’t deserve your people back.”

I kick his legs out from under him, and he screams as the joints in his shoulders crack, all his weight yanking against the chains.

“We don’t have to keep doing this,” I say calmly. “Tell me where you’re keeping them, tell me anything, and I’ll offer you a quick and easy death.” He knows he isn’t making it out of here alive. The only choice he has in his death is how brutal it will be.

“I’d rather bleed out,” he spits, saliva spraying my boots.

“Oh, you won’t bleed out.” I nod to the freshest of his wounds. “Not with all that Orris root.”

The Rogue’s face turns white as a sheet.

“I packed it into your wounds while you were sleeping, then I shoved it down your throat for good measure.” His eyes widen, and he begins to squirm in his chains, more desperate than I’d seen him all week. “Bleeding out would be a euphoric death compared to the one you will face, but I’ll make it quick if you talk.”

Blood dribbles from the holes in his palms. Drip, drip, drip, against the stone.

I look down at my imaginary watch. “I’d say you have about two minutes before you feel it. The agony. The rapid firing of all your neurons at once until you are a burning ball of fire, begging to die. Begging for me to rip out your shriveled, callous heart, and send you straight into Pyra’s arms.” My head tilts as he squirms, curses flying from his mouth in a flurry of hatred. “But maybe if you offer me something worthwhile, I’ll snap your neck before it starts. You’d better hurry and choose.”

Orris root is hard to find, but I paid a Flora to grow it for me. It’s one of only three poisons without an antidote. Once you’re exposed, there is no reversing it, which is why I used three pairs of gloves to handle it. When it kicks in, it triggers every pain receptor in your body as if you’re being stabbed; everywhere and all at once.

It’s a torture worse than death.

And it’s my last resort.