The Devil's Mistress

Chapter 6: The Unraveling

The air inside Margaret Thorne’s cottage was thick with tension, and Lilith could feel the weight of the old woman’s words pressing down on her like a vice. The dim light from the candle barely illuminated the small room, casting long, flickering shadows that danced along the walls like ghosts. Lilith’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of how deep she was sinking into the nightmare of Hollow Creek.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Margaret continued, her voice low and gravelly, like stones grinding together. “The pact isn’t just a curse on your family—it’s tied to this entire town. Your ancestors thought they could control the darkness, but they were wrong. It’s always been the one controlling them.”

Lilith stepped forward, her frustration bubbling over. “Then why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t my parents say anything? They knew—my mother, she came to you once. I remember! What did she ask you? What did you tell her?”

Margaret’s eyes flickered with something—regret? Guilt? It was impossible to tell. She turned back toward the hearth, staring into the dying embers of an old fire. Her silence only fueled Lilith’s desperation.

“I need to know!” Lilith’s voice trembled. “If my family made this pact, then I deserve to know what it means—what it’s going to cost me.”

Margaret turned slowly, her expression hardening. “Your mother was a fool. She thought she could escape it, just like you. She came here, begging for a way out. But there is no way out. The pact is blood, and blood demands payment.”

Lilith’s breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean? What happened to her?”

Margaret’s gaze darkened, her eyes locking with Lilith’s. “She ran. But the darkness doesn’t forget. It found her, just like it will find you.”

Lilith’s heart skipped a beat. “My mother—she died in an accident.”

“Did she?” Margaret’s tone was sharp, her voice cutting through the fog of confusion that clouded Lilith’s thoughts. “Do you really believe that? Or is that what they told you to keep you from asking too many questions?”

The room seemed to tilt, and Lilith’s mind raced. She had always accepted the story of her mother’s death—an accident, a tragedy—but now doubt crept in, twisting her memories. Could it have been something more? Something darker? Had her mother been running from the pact, only to be caught in its grip?

“No,” Lilith whispered, shaking her head. “No, you’re lying. She wouldn’t have left me like that. She wouldn’t have…”

“She had no choice,” Margaret said softly, her voice losing its edge. “Once the pact takes hold, there is no escaping it. Your mother knew that. She tried to protect you, but the pact… it doesn’t care about love, or family, or promises. It only cares about the blood it’s owed.”

Lilith’s knees felt weak, and she leaned against the table for support, her fingers gripping the edge of the worn wood. Her mind was spinning, reeling from the weight of the revelation. Everything she had believed about her family, about her mother—it was all unraveling, like a thread pulled from the fabric of her life.

“Why now?” Lilith asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is this happening now, after all these years?”

Margaret sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the years had finally caught up with her. “Because the time has come. The pact was made for power—power that your family gained, but power always comes at a price. Every generation, the pact demands its due. The mark on your door… it’s a signal. The gathering tomorrow night—it’s the beginning of the end.”