A Witch's Trial (Witch's Path Series: Book 3) (22 page)

Back in my apartment, I tucked myself into bed. After a day like this, I needed my sleep. I was still low on energy and sore from head to toe. The night passed in a blink of an eye, and I woke up feeling better than I'd expected and ready to face the day as long as it didn't include anyone trying to kill me.
 

There was a knock at the door as soon as I walked into the kitchen to start breakfast. I opened the door to find Elron on the other side. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"We need to talk."

"It's two hours before we agreed to meet. I haven't even had breakfast."

"I brought food and tea." He motioned to a cart sitting in in the hall.

"Well, in that case…" I stepped back from the door, and Elron rolled the cart in. Varro stepped into the doorway and paused before following Elron.

"I brought him along. He is part of this conversation." Elron waved him inside.

"Fine by me." I closed the door behind Varro, who stood stiffly by the kitchen counter as Elron and I set the table. Elron had done his usual impeccable job selecting food, and in minutes we were sitting down to eat.
 

Varro ate slowly, his eyes darting between the two of us and his plate. It wasn't until Elron abandoned his cutlery to eat a muffin and I used a fork to eat mine that I understood. Without saying a word, I set down my fork, picked up my muffin, and bit off a chunk. Varro quickly mimicked my gesture.
 

From the way Varro held a fork and knife, it was clear that he'd used them before, but the rules of etiquette had changed, and he was trying to match our manners. For the rest of the meal, I kept an eye on Elron's eating habits, making adjustments to ensure Varro had a pattern to follow.

After we finished the meal, I helped Elron clean up and poured a second cup of tea for each of us. I moved a pitcher of water to the table too. If this conversation was as long as I expected, we would want a plenty of fluids.

"I am not sure where to start," Elron said.
 

Shrugging, I said, "As long as it makes sense, it doesn't matter to me."

"I found a clue in the diary. The salutations were different than what she had done in the past. The first letters spelled out demon's bane." He continued to recount how he spent yesterday morning. "Varro wished to come back with me, and we returned to the lodge. He insisted on relaying his story to both of us."

Varro nodded. "It's easier this way, and I needed to make sure I had the right people. Elron's visit to my woods was no accident. The Call pushed him there because the two of you need my knowledge. I am, to the best of my knowledge, the last Hunter."

Elron hardly twitched, but my jaw dropped. "How? I thought they were dead. The Hunters have been gone long enough to pass into myth for someone Elron's age. Wouldn't old age have killed you if nothing else did?"

Varro nodded. "Under normal conditions, yes. If you let me explain my journey, it will make more sense."

I nodded, as did Elron. After all, he'd found the Hunter we needed in a rather fortuitous series of events, and that warranted an explanation.
 

Varro's eyes unfocused as he looked at something we couldn't see. "I joined the Hunters long ago. As a boy, I'd planned on tending the forest as my parents had done. But in an unexpected turn of events, I ended up assisting the Hunters as they rid a town of a demon that had done terrible things to the residents. After seeing the effects of a single demon, I couldn't turn away from the innocent people who needed me. For years we hunted down demons. It was a difficult task as we often traveled, searching for signs or word of their evil.

"Demons were never plentiful, but after a time, we saw fewer of them until we simply stopped finding them. When years turned to decades without a sighting, the Hunters gathered together. It was a breathtaking sight; we were so seldom in the same area that seeing us together has remained with me for all this time. I make it sound like there were a great many of us, but we never numbered more than a hundred. It seemed like many more since we worked in groups of ten or less.

"We agreed to unofficially disband and go about our lives for the next century. Less than half of us made it to the second meeting. All of us had news of a comrade's passing. Several died of old age, and the rest of common maladies, but not a one from anything that could be traced back to a demon. The meeting was difficult because of the decisions we faced. Although the remaining Hunters came from long-lived races, time was not on our side, as demons didn't die from old age. By the end of the meeting, we had agreed that our knowledge couldn't be forgotten but was too sensitive to be written down. It took more than a year, but a particularly sharp witch perfected a spell that would ensure our knowledge continued until a new generation of demon hunters was educated."

Varro drew a ragged breath and tears fell from his eyes. "Fey are long-lived, but not long enough. All my fellows died that day to ensure my survival and the preservation of our knowledge. It was the price of the spell. I burned their bodies and tried to return to my life. When I went home, people wanted to know what had changed, and I couldn't answer without betraying my vows. I moved to a different town, and then two more, with each stay shorter than the last.

"I retreated to the woods where I felt closest to my mission and limited my contact with the world to a few trusted sources who would bring me information of unrest and potential evil. From time to time, I made forays to investigate problems, but for the most part I kept to myself."

My own tears hit the table. The pain in his voice was undeniable, and all the more tragic because, in his own way, he'd become a victim. I couldn't imagine his pain. The closest I could come was picturing Elron, Amber, and Tiffany dying to help me. If that pain wasn't enough, he had endured the years since never knowing when or if he would be called to action. And over time doubts had to have set in, making him question if there were even any demons left. If he'd been a lesser man, the deaths and uncertainty would've broken him.

"Elron's Call would've forced him to find me, no matter the cost, because I am the only one who can teach you how to kill the demon. From what I've been told, the demon has made several attempts on your life, Michelle, and you need to be ready when he makes the next one. That's how you're going to get him."

"Me?" I squeaked. He had mentioned teaching us how to kill demons, but I'd assumed we would be learning by example. This was turning into a learn-on-the-job situation.
 

He focused those pain- and hope-filled eyes on me. "You are the most important part."

"I do not like how that sounds," Elron said.
 

Me either, but I'd made my peace with facing down a demon before Varro showed up.
 

"It must be her."

"Why? Why not another someone else?"

Varro sighed. "Michelle feels like a Hunter, is a witch, and the demon is after her. It's the ideal combination."

I jumped in before Elron could continue questioning the fey. "Could you tell us more about killing the demon? Elron and I don't know anything about the process, so he's confused as to why it needs to be me versus any other witch."

The way Varro had phrased thing didn't enthuse me. Feeling like a Hunter, whatever that meant, didn't speak to my odds of being able to return to a nice quiet life after things settled down. I had zero desire to roam the world looking for evil that needed to be squished.
 

Varro eyed Elron. "You won't like this."

Elron shrugged. "It has not been a time for pleasant things."

"The basic method sounds simple, but in practice it can be rather tricky. First, you must get the demon alone. This is where Gremory's obsession with Michelle helps our cause; he will attack her again, and if we're prepared, we can use that attack to draw him out. Once he arrives, we will capture him in a specially constructed spell. After that, the demon's bane is used to bind Gremory's spirit to a body. The host must be killed, and the spell transitioned into a new phase where it absorbs and purifies all the energy."

That last part did it for Elron; the color faded from his skin and his hands trembled. He clasped them together and moved them to his lap, but I could see his arms twitch.

"To whom must she bind the demon?" Elron whispered.

Varro kept his eyes focused on Elron. "Generally the one the demon is already occupying. In this case, I believe that would be your wife. It is possible to encourage the demon to move to a different host, but tracking the demon's movements can be difficult. Either way, the demon must be bound to the host, and the host must be killed to slay the demon."

Elron was frozen in his chair, and his eyes didn't seem to be focused on the here and now.
 

I cleared my throat. "You didn't sound hopeful when you mentioned that the demon could be moved to a different host."

"I read Sylvia's diary. The demon didn't pick her accidentally; there was a reason it had to be her, because under normal circumstances demons don't take elves as a host. This is the first time I've heard of a demon choosing an elf, and Sylvia seems to have more autonomy than a typical host. The fact that she was able to carry and discard the book while the demon was occupying her suggests an unconventional relationship between them."

"I don't follow," I said. As much as I wanted to watch Varro, I kept my eyes on Elron. He was still looking into the distance, and I couldn't be sure that he was aware of the conversation.

Varro sipped his tea. "In most cases, the demon takes a host, often a human or shifter, and doesn't leave it until the body is worn out and near death. During that time, the host's spirit is pushed aside. They lose any ability to control their body, actions, or perceive what is happening. When the demon leaves them, they have no memory of what occurred.

"Sylvia seems to be different for several reasons, aside from her race. The demon is switching between bodies, sometimes residing in her and sometimes residing in a male form. That alone isn't overly interesting, but she has been able to observe what Gremory does when he's controlling her body, which is most unusual. Beyond that, she has been able to push him aside, regain control, and it appears that he is unaware. This is a unique ability in a host, one that she could use to aid us. Even if she is unable to help us, the longevity of her form and the lengths to which he went to obtain it make it unlikely that he will be willing to switch forms. To kill Gremory you must kill Sylvia."

"I do not think I can harm her," Elron whispered, still pale and trembling.

I sat there feeling especially useless. On one hand, I wanted to comfort Elron, but at the same time I thought he would prefer to be left alone. Things were complicated enough without the woman he'd dated comforting him when she intended to kill his wife.
 

Elron was trembling. I scooted away from the table, stepped into the living room to grab a blanket, and hurried to wrap it around Elron. The trembling eased, he leaned into my arms, and I held him against my side.
 

"Shh, I'm here. I've got you." He started crying, and I kept holding him.
 

Varro looked on with pitying eyes. "I am sorry."

"Does he have to be there?" I didn't know what would be better—staying behind while your friends killed your wife or watching your wife die, knowing it was the lesser of evils.
 

Shaking his head, he answered. "No, but will he be able to stay away?"

I bit my lip. Elron wouldn't believe she was dead unless he watched her die, not after what had happened before.
 

"Why can't they be happy? Haven't both of them suffered enough? They deserve better than this—this life of misfortune." I didn't know if I was asking a question or demanding an answer, but the earth, moon, and sun were silent.
 

After a long moment, Varro spoke. "It doesn't work that way. You get the chances you get, and happiness can be stolen from you at any moment. Neither of them deserved this, but it's their life to live and their pain to bear."

"Sylvia didn't deserve to spend two hundred years as a demon's host only to die. Elron… just look at him." The man in question was still crying, silent tears escaping from puffy eyes.

Varro didn't look at Elron, instead remaining focused on me. "What about you? What would you do to prevent this pain?"

"I can't stop this pain. Nothing I do from here will make either of them better."

"What of other people? Gremory's next victims?"

"You heard me yesterday. I'll do what I have to do to keep people safe." Saying it out loud didn't make me feel any better; there was still an emptiness inside me because the man in my arms wasn't going to be healed with a death. Killing Gremory and Sylvia might end her captivity, but it wasn't a happy resolution.
 

All the fairy tales I'd read growing up had left out this part. Those heroes had saved the day, gotten the girl or guy, and found a better life. I wasn't going to be that hero because I had to kill a good woman, hurt a good man, and find the strength to move on with my life. There wouldn't be a parade for me, trumpets wouldn't sound, bells wouldn't ring, but I might get to dig a grave.

I looked up from my reflections to find Varro studying me. He knew what I was thinking and what I would do; it's why he said I felt like a Hunter. I might not be the same person when this was over, but Sylvia wasn't worth more than the ten people dead in Ellijay, Simon, the citizens of Forsyth who'd been killed by trolls, or the teens who would spend the rest of their lives in prison because a demon had talked them into breaking the law.
 

"I can do this." I swallowed. "I can kill Sylvia."

Varro nodded.

"Can you help me move him?" It would be easier for Varro to support or carry Elron.

"Where would you like him?"

"Let's put him in my bedroom." With the two of us continuing our conversation, he wouldn't get much rest on the sofa. Going back to his place wasn't an option. Given his retreat from the world upon finding out that Sylvia was alive, I didn't want to give him the chance to hide again. Elron needed to stay in the moment and see this through.