The Weaver's Source

Chapter 57

I constantly cast my eyes up at the sky and I ran through the fields. Darkness was thickening fast and even the stars were blotted out by angry grey clouds. We hadn't much time.

Grigore had run ahead of me, charging with unnatural speed to Lillith's shack. I could only watch breathlessly as he drew further from me. Part of me was frightened for him to leave me and scared to have a repeat experience with that monster but most of me was overjoyed at the amount of strength he had. It oozed from and his song surrounded him powerfully in a way I'd never heard before. He wasn't half starved anymore.

Even as breathless and worried as I was, I still felt a small sense of pride and sadness. Grigore knew I was his. He had even fed from me, taken my magic to give him some chance against the black dog. He was my Weaver. I still remembered the hot lustful sensation that had filled me and the need to feel his skin, but it was just this one time, he had said. He didn't accept me, not in the true sense. Something was stopping him from letting him treat me as his Source and lean on the strength I offered freely. While I was really quite concerned about what he meant by this final hunt, I didn't have time to bully the information out of him. Lillith was going to commit suicide soon and the black dog was going to form. Neither was good.

Before I even got to the first house that surrounded the town in a littered fashion, Grigore was back.

"Here." He handed my bow to me and thin fur quiver he had made me on our journey. Only six arrows were snuggled within. "Use them wisely and please try to miss me." He said with a faint half-smile that made my heart stutter a little. I had expected him to be guarded after admitting our connection to me but he seemed more relaxed with me, like he was relieved he finally admitted it.

I nodded, taking the quiver and swinging it over my shoulder. I trotted after him as he began to stride off again, his walk easy and strong. "I'll try not to but I'm not very good yet." I promised.

"And run if you feel you're in danger. Don't try to help me if you're just going to get in the way or get eaten." He said as he strode onwards. "Your job is to protect Lillith, not me."

Again, I promised him I wouldn't, and my eyes caught sight of the old windmill that sat on the far outskirts of town.

"Is she there?"

"I can see a small light." He growled. "We need to hurry."

Grigore picked up his pace and I stuck to him as best as I could. Soon I was wincing with every step though as a stitch began to form in my side. It wasn't the most comfortable experience but I wasn't about to stop, especially when another howl drowned the sky.

We stumbled up close to the windmill, only faintly aware of the gathering clouds above and small spats of rain. The mill loomed before me, broken and barely keeping itself together. It's windows were broken, doors rotten and rotors snapped and dead. Dark green creepers covered it, keeping the thick stones together.

I shivered horribly as my magic squirmed and whimpered. I could feel it. The dog was there. It was inside the mill, curling where the darkness had thickened. The sun was barely in the sky but its last few beams trapped it there. Not for much longer though.

As Grigore and I came closer the sound of a scuffle could be heard and my eyes caught sight of two people. Lillith stood before the mill. She was wet with something and the cylinder she had taken was by her feet, open and empty. Her hand was held out and her body was bent as she leaned heavily on her stick. She was angry. Her face was contorted in rage as she scowled at the man holding a torch. It was Jacob.

"Give me back the torch, Jacob." She snarled.

"I have told you no." He said. He was shaking but whether it was from rage or fear, I didn't know. "I won't let you do this."