Journey of a Girl

The Purple House: Chapter Five

This is how I die, at the hands of a nasty witch.

Credence felt like a doe caught in the eyes of a wolf, but fear drove her adrenaline, and adrenaline enhanced her instinct. Before she could understand what she was doing, she pulled from the power in her aura, the angry drink of the moon, and focused it into action.

She didn't know the curious hand movements Lilith used, but she had an idea, as ridiculous as it might seem. She brought her pricked finger to her lips and bit it, sucking fresh blood into her mouth.

The fire would reach her in seconds.

She pulled her fear and energy into her mouth too, and the combination of blood and terror and dark power swirled between her teeth, bitter and pungent.

Time slowed for Credence.

She inhaled deeply, using her hands to direct the night air into her lungs.

The light of the orb's fire illuminated her face.

She pushed everything out, the blood-soaked fear and anger and power—and released a fierce scream.

It wasn't a shield, but something far more effective. The only attack she knew, the same one that sent the Collector into the trees. It had been a wild hope that she would be able to replicate it. It blew a terrible wind across the distance between her and Lilith. When it hit the blood orb it snuffed the fire instantly, and the trees behind and around Lilith bent so far back that Credence thought they might snap in half.

Lilith braced herself, trying to hold to the ground and remain upright, but she was knocked back, and pieces of her clothing were ripped from her body, and several small cracks opened on her exposed skin.

The roar of Credence's scream died with a faint echo, replaced by a chilling silence.

It was over in a few blinks, but the effects were devastating.

Lilith was on her back, groaning and bleeding.

Credence did not go to her.

I owe that witch nothing, she thought bitterly.

After a moment Lilith picked herself up, grumbling and hissing in pain, and when she approached her apprentice Credence could see thin lines of blood running from the holes in her head; her ears, her nose, her eyes, her mouth. Across her arms and neck were fresh cuts, and what was left of her skirts was little more than shreds of cloth.

Credence stood in silence, dumbfounded by her power but not wanting Lilith to see her disbelief. The old witch stumbled towards her, and for a second Credence thought she intended to strike—but Lilith walked past her, heading into the house without a word.

Let the harpy say something now, Credence thought smugly.

Lilith paused.

She turned and shot Credence a look that may have killed a lesser creature.

"If you don't learn to control yourself, you'll topple the whole damned forest," Lilith scoffed. She groaned in pain. "Useless, dim-witted stump." She turned back to the house.

Credence smiled behind her back. Lilith was being spiteful—but she finally admitted that Credence had power.

Credence had bested her.

Why should I withhold my power, Credence thought, if one scream was enough to put you on your back?

"Tomorrow you'll fetch every last stich of what blew away," Lilith snarled over her shoulder, spitting blood with her words, "or I'll have your skin for new skirts."