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The good days dot my memory like sand dollars on the beach. Prizes to collect, dead as they are.
Those who hunt alone often starve.”
A very little poison can do a world of good. It’s all about how you apply it.”
She smiles in the soft light. “We don’t fear men in this house,” she tells me. “Men fear us.”
“You’re not just any old girl from any old family, Piers. You never have been. You’re a bane witch. And it’s time you start living like one.”
If I had shown up on your doorstep, told you that you were an ancient weapon magically designed to be a defender of women and children by taking the lives of predatory men, an instrument of justice and vengeance older than time, a poison eater, I would have ruined it all. I would have devastated you.
We survive together. A witch on her own is a dead witch.” “Those who hunt alone often starve.”
The world as we know it has long festered a hatred for women, let alone witches, a hatred for everything we are and stand for. There is nothing it despises more than a woman with power. We are everything they want to eliminate.
There’s something possessive in me, a need for custody over my own heart and body. I want him to belong to me in a way he cannot belong to anyone else. I want what we do to exist in an autonomous sphere,
“Wait.” His arms shoot out, strong hands gripping mine. “Let me help you.” Now it is my turn to stumble in shock.
