I don’t know how or when I had finally drifted off to sleep. But I am awoken by the sounds of a scuffle.
This time when my eyes open, there is not a blinding pain. My head hurts, but it does not have me wincing and begging for my mates.
“You bitch! You never should have been put in charge of a coven!” a male shouts, as he is dragged into the dungeon.
“But yet I am in charge,” she says as she follows the two wolves dragging the witch. Is he still called a witch or is he a warlock?
I try to shake my head. It doesn’t matter what a male witch is called. Francesca is about to sacrifice him.
“May the goddess, herself, smite you down! May you be forgotten! May your magic be striped from you and you be powerless!” he shouts as he thrashes to escape.
The pair of wolves shackle the man right next to where the witch had been earlier.
Francesca cackles, a full blown, cheesy, witches cackle. Her mouth shuts with an audible clack as her teeth smack each other. She starts her chanting again.
I try to pick out words. I try to understand what is being said. But again, the words are meaningless jibber to me.
Unlike the woman, the man does not scream in pain. He lets out a grunt and then a gasp. He drains away, just like the woman. Becoming an old man and
then dust, right before my eyes.
Francesca gives him a scowl before she turns to me. She chants again.
This time I am ready for the burning sensation that I know is going to consume me. There it is, that burning feeling. The feeling like the potion is being burned from the inside out.
When Francesca stops and takes a step back, I let out a gasp. She grabs my chin and swivels my head. She glares at me as I am inspected.
“Yes, that should purify you. You should be ready now,” she tells me as she lets me go. “Katrina, prépare the wolf. I need to go prepare myself.”
“Yes, my lady,” an elderly woman says as she hobbles into the dungeon. This witch is the oldest person I’ve seen in this place.
“Do not disappoint me,” she says as she leaves the room.
Katrina bobs her head as she takes out a key and unlocks my chains.
Without the shackles keeping me standing, I fall to the ground. I let out a gasp.
She turns and yells, “Get in here you mutts.” She turns back to me and glares at me.
Two, female, werewolves shuffle into the dungeon room. They look down at the ground in submission. I faintly catch sight of the bruises on their necks and faces. I want to be sorry for them, but at the same time, I am so mad at them.
“Get her cleaned up and changed into this,” Katrina hisses as she waves her hand a white slip appears in her hands. She thrusts the garment towards the taller wolf. The witch waves her hand again. This time a basin of water appears with a rag.
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The readers' comments on the novel: To protect what's mine (Amalie)