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The Darkest Witch

prologue. "i put a spell on you."

prologue. "i put a spell on you."

Oct 21, 2020

The following content is intended for mature audiences.

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                                                                  ⊰᯽⊱

THE WORDS DIED IN HER throat, along with the man gurgling over blood beneath her. Her fingers turned red underneath the river of life, the droplets of crimson running down her face in a hilarious mimicry of tears. It was warm with the man's fading life force she was so desperately trying to preserve with her magic, except it wasn't working--

"He's already dead, pretty witch." Her heart stuttered to a stop, but still kept beating pathetically in her chest at the ungodly deep voice belonging to the man standing somewhere in front of her, hovering over her like a wraith. There was a cold touch against her temple and she smelled sulfur underneath the sweat and blood. Her eyes shut tight at the recognition of the odor. A gun. "I would kill you, too, except I know your face, Beatrix Ashfield."

"Who doesn't?" Her biting tone was quickly reprimanded by the click of the gun's hammer being pulled back. "Who are you?"

"The better question would be: who am I not?" The gun trailed a cold line down her temple to her cheekbone. "I'll make a deal with you, Ashfield. Your life for my secret. How does that sound?"

Beatrix couldn't help the tear that leaked down her cheek, following the curve of her nose. "I don't exactly have a choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice." A gloved hand came up and took a hold of her jaw before she could even think about looking up at the assassin's face. "A choice in clients, a choice in deals... The wrong choice, however, could get you killed. So I'd choose wisely."

The blood had stopped flowing. She inhaled sharply.

"Fine. Deal."

"Smart, too." Her face was tilted up. The bright strobe lights obscured his identity, but she could make out the tattoo around his neck just barely, in bold black ink. If she could just get a little closer... "A pleasure doing business with you, Beatrix."

Before she could blink, there was a hot press of lips to her mouth. Harsh, brutal, and quick, tasting faintly of spearmint and whiskey, with a faint undercurrent of brimstone. And then he was gone, like he had never been there to begin with, the door swinging shut quietly behind him.

Darkness creeped up on her vision with the aid of shock, accompanied by one singular thought before her eyes rolled shut.

Demon.

                                                                     ⊰᯽⊱

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The Darkest Witch
The Darkest Witch

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"You fear me," he whispered with a touch to her cheek,"but you're probably the only person in this world who has every right not to be."

⊰᯽⊱

Beatrix Ashfield is her mother's creature--the creative genius behind Witch Monthly's fashion line and the apple of a demon's eye, she exists solely to please her mother no matter how vehemently she might deny it. With her life on the line and her sister's power in question, it's all she can do to remain out of the spotlight and completely under the Ashfield coven's thumb, until suddenly one day, she isn't.

Implicated in the murder of her mother's high ranked client and her mouth sealed shut by a deal with the demon who killed him, she is forced into the limelight and drama of both the human and paranormal worlds, right on the eve of the Donithorn heir's ascension ball. With no time left to lose, she seeks out the man who murdered her client--except he has vanished without a trace, the mysterious money trail running dry.

And with it, so has her life.
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prologue. "i put a spell on you."

prologue. "i put a spell on you."

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