The Wicked Born

Chapter 18

The Demetrian castle was creepier than Dacre could've ever imagined it. It was built of a worn ebony stone that gave off the impression of just how long it'd been around. All of the grass within a 300 foot radius of the mansion was deadened and shriveled, as if the walls of the ancient building somehow sucked the life out of its surroundings daily for survival. A chill crept up Dacre's neck as he stared into the large, wooden doors that faced them at the end of a long, cobbled path. Something within him urged his common sense to not let him cross that threshold, but he knew that they were well past the point of return.

Tabitha had been purposefully vague in answering his questions about why they needed to make a stop at the Demetrian coven's home before they made their final journey to his father's castle. A week and three days remained until Bexley's execution date—he knew that whatever her reasoning for their needing to go there, it must have been important for the witch to cut it so close to her own sister's death date. There were answers to questions he didn't even know that she could only get here.

"This place doesn't sit right with me," Laurel whispered beside him. Her long, brown hair was braided back in simple yet beautiful twists before coming to an abrupt stop midway down her back. She'd torn a strip of her clothing to make for a tie to hold the style in its place. They'd barely spoken since he'd snapped at her in the woods before taking off to help Tabitha. Somehow, he didn't see their friendship fully recovering from the spat they had. Oddly enough, Dacre didn't really seem to care. He simply nodded once in response. Blue whined lowly at his feet, now as tall as Dacre's thighs, seemingly aware of the fact that he'd be forced to part ways with his owner soon even if only for a small amount of time. Dacre had arranged for Laurel to watch the wolf while he and Tabitha were inside the coven—Tabitha decided that it was best to not reveal their new animal companion to her aunt. Dacre had no idea why but he thought better than to argue with the witch.

When Dacre's forearm gave a small, almost-unnoticeable pulse of pain, he dragged his attention away from the building in front of him to seek out Tabitha's gaze. Deep down, he knew that she needed comfort. He just didn't know what for.

"Hey," Dacre whispered to get her attention, his voice gruff as he watched her facial expression as she stood three feet to his right. Her eyes stayed glued on the mansion that towered over them as she gave no outward sign that she'd heard him. The Mark on her temple and jawline looked almost garnet red in the waning light of the sun as it slowly but surely made its way down the horizon. As his gaze traced the Mark until it disappeared below the collar of her cloak, he noticed that her jaw was hardened. Tabitha was radiating tension and unease. "We can do this together," he finally broke the silence.

Dacre turned toward Laurel and gave her a look to indicate that it was time for her to make her leave. Her dove-gray eyes flickered once between him and the witch that still had yet to say a word, but she eventually pursed her lips and made her way back to where Ellias was waiting with the horses. Dacre had been tempted to butt into his conversation with Tabitha when they'd been speaking so lowly before but he refrained because he knew, somehow, that Tabitha would defend him if it came to that. He hadn't noticed her or the warlock talk since he came storming past him and Laurel on his horse, dust flying up from the hooves of the animal he rode on.

"We should get going," Tabitha spoke, her voice sounding much more frail and fragile than usual. Dacre gave her a wary once-over before nodding and taking a timid step in front of her, directly between her path to the front door. He hadn't even noticed that he'd done it until her strong hand wrapped around his forearm, pulling him to a halting stop. He looked over his shoulder at her and found her concerned eyes staring back at him.

"I need to be the one to go into there first. They don't take well to..." She made a vague gesturing motion with her free hand, enveloping his whole being with the motion.