Sarah dropped her left hand and reached back into the pocket again. Her thoughts were telling her hands to reach for the pistol, but another force guided her to the smooth and warm edges of the wooden cross.
“But now you will die like a beggar,” Kegan said, those black eyes locked onto Sarah’s and the witch’s wicked smile spreading across Kegan’s face.
With her vision starting to pepper with black dots, Sarah removed the cross from her pocket and thrust it close to Kegan’s face. He released her, quickly retreating as she collapsed to the floor, coughing and hacking, but with still enough sound mind to keep the cross lifted as Kegan slammed back into the opposite wall.
Kegan thrust out his hands, grunting and groaning from the pain of the cross. And as Sarah moved to her feet, she stopped when Kegan snarled from his position on the floor.
“What do you think will happen to you when all of this is over?” Kegan asked. “You will have to kill yourself to stop this, Sarah. Do you know that? There is no happy ending for you here, there is no savior that will swoop in at the last second and rescue you from an eternity of burning in the flames.”
Sarah inched closer, arm thrust out, still holding the cross, which gave herself a protective barrier, and she reached into her pocket for the other tube of holy water.
“It will be over,” Kegan said, anger seething through clenched teeth, those eyes blackened and hot like burning coals. “You will know nothing but pain.”
Less than a foot separated the pair of them now, the witch increasing her resistance to the cross’s holy powers, and Sarah’s arm started to shake.
“I’ve known pain my whole life,” Sarah said, determination etching onto her face. “So I’m pretty fucking used to it.” Sarah gathered her strength and then pushed herself forward as hard as she would go, slamming the cross into Kegan’s forehead.
The skin burned and crackled as Kegan screamed and thrashed his head back and forth. He rolled his eyes into the back of his skull, and Sarah reached for the holy water and then crashed it down over his head.
Every speckle of water that connected with his skin sizzled and burned. Sarah kept as much pressure on the cross as she possibly could until Kegan thrust her backward.
Kegan lay on his side, eyes shut and breathing heavy. He trembled, every muscle of his body shaking, and sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and onto the floor.
The witch cackled and then twirled around. “You really are quite the girl. But then Iris always knew how to pick them.” She arched one eyebrow. “Did she ever tell you why she always picked up women? Because they were easy.” She clutched her hands together and pinched her shoulders forward, crouching in a helpless position. “So weak and fragile, afraid to make their way in the world.” She thrust her chest out and flung her head back, her black locks whipping through the air. “As a woman, you’d think I’d be offended, but I thought it was brilliant. And truth be told, I haven’t been a real woman in over a millennia.” She gestured to the body and the dress. “I pick my form, whatever pleases me.” She shape-shifted, and suddenly she was Pat again, her voice deepening to a man’s. “Or sometimes if it pleases others.” And then she transformed into Dell and cracked a smile. “Sarah, you could have everything you want. Even me.”
“It’s not real,” Sarah said.
The witch transformed back into the beautiful woman that Sarah had come to know her as, and the smile faded. “So if the boy won’t persuade you, then what if I could give you something else?” She strutted toward Sarah, who reached into her pocket for the cross, and the witch stopped, eyeing the hand that dove into the pocket. “I thought you might bring a few tricks with you.” She flicked her eyes back to Sarah. “But I’ve got a few of my own.”
“No tricks,” Sarah said. “Now step aside.”
The witch lifted her hand and wagged her finger back and forth. “No, no, no, my dear, I’m afraid that I can’t let you do that.”
“I told you there isn’t anything you can offer me,” Sarah said. “There isn’t anything that can stop me.”
“My master has the ability to alter time,” the witch said, ignoring Sarah’s words. “He can make things that never happened, happen. And he can also make things that happened… not.” Those wicked red lips creased into a thin line, and Sarah’s heart stopped cold.
That hollowness that accompanied sheer terror carved out Sarah’s innards, and her mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected the turn that the witch was taking, and as the color drained from Sarah’s cheeks, the more the witch smiled.
“Your parents died when you were so little, Sarah,” the witch said, her tone an over-exaggerated plea for attention. “It wasn’t your fault. Drunk driver. How about I have my master never put that driver on the road? No, better yet, why not kill the drunk driver before he even gets close to your parents. We could have him veer off into a guardrail, send him straight through the window. Glass and blood everywhere.” She lowered the volume of her voice. “And then your parents would drive by, slowing from all the police cars and emergency vehicles on scene, and glance over and wonder what happened.”
A tear formed in Sarah’s left eye, and she shook her head. “Stop it.”
“Imagine it, Sarah,” the witch said. “A life where you don’t have to grow up in an orphanage and surrounded by people who don’t care about you. Your parents would be the ones to drop you off at your first day of school, teach you to ride a bike, give you presents at your birthday and Christmas. Imagine the stability, the love. They would protect you better than any of those
