The Witch's Curse (The Cursed Lands Book 2) by J F Rogers

Author:J F Rogers [Rogers, J F]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Noblebright Publishing
Published: 2023-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Eight

My heart thumped hard so hard my chest hurt. I spun around, looking for anyone, anything, but I was alone. I stood in the witch’s eerily empty home, listening for anything in the deafening silence.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

A pendulum clock hung on the wall, reminding me of my father’s castle full of clocks. What I wouldn’t give to be back there. Better yet, to go home.

“Hello?” I called out, hoping for a reply yet fearful a winged alligator may respond.

Was I so pathetic that I preferred the witch’s presence to being alone?

There had to be a way out of here. I had to find my friends, but where was the door?

There must be one. Noita was an illusionist. Maybe I just couldn’t see it. Then again, the witch didn’t seem to need one. She just blinked out.

My hammering heart slammed up into my throat as I groped along the walls for anything my eyes might not see. I heaved books to the floor and toppled the bookshelf, but no door hid behind it. I yanked the shabby carpet, but no trap door lay beneath it. There was nothing.

Except the windows.

I searched for a latch on the center window. Nothing but glass panes within the crisscross grille—no evidence the thing opened. Giving up, I moved to one of the two smaller windows. A latch! I jiggled it free. The circular glass swiveled open, forming a mini half-circle opening at odd angles. The hope bubbling within me flattened. Even with the glass gone, the window was too small for me to escape. Unable to see anything beyond the streaming moonlight outside, I pushed the circular glass and stuck my arm through. The sickening feeling that something on the other side might grab it sent a rush of shivers, like centipedes burrowing beneath my skin, racing one another. A vision of an alligator snapping at my arm made me jerk it back, snagging my arm in my haste, cutting it on a jagged edge.

“Ow!” Careful to avoid further damage, I withdrew my arm all the way and inspected the cut. A red stain spread along my ripped sleeve. I reached for a cloth napkin on the table, pressed it to the wound, then inspected it. It was minor. If only I could heal myself.

Blood dripped onto my useless hand, so I wiped it with the napkin, then unfolded it to tie it around my arm.

Refocusing on a way out, I rummaged through the drawers, and my hand stilled on a mallet. That would do. I smashed two of the glass panes in the large window, brushed away the jagged bits that might snag me, then tugged the grille. Iron. It might as well be a cage.

I was trapped.

This disaster of a room had no way out. My surroundings wavered, converting to the house I’d been trapped in as a child. But this time I was alone. My brothers and sister weren’t here.

I was alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Hide me. Hide me. Hide me.

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