Read Online Hero by Alethea Kontis - Free Book Online

outlining the sea. From this vantage point, he realized that he had drawn the woman from his dreams.
    Peregrine’s shoulders dropped. “Not again.”
    “I’d expect nothing less from a man obsessed.”
    “Or a lunatic.” Peregrine joked to mask the fear that his mind would one day run rogue and leave him, just as his father’s had. Thanks to Leila’s curse there would be no living death for him, only death, swift and sure. Not that he needed to hide anything from Betwixt.
    “You’re in good company, my friend,” the chimera said, and nosed the back of Peregrine’s hand. “Let’s go. The Queen of Lunatics is waiting.”
    Peregrine rolled the map and secured it inside his shirt, his hand brushing his father’s ring on the chain around his neck as he did so. He looked back at the woman who haunted him, hair streaming lines of continents, eyes bright even when outlined in dark coal. She meant the world to him, and he had failed her. This isolation was the price he must pay.
    Peregrine lit the torch again from the lantern. “I’m sorry, Elodie,” he whispered to the drawing, and then blew out the lantern, banishing her once again to the darkness of his dreams.
    Betwixt led them under the swollen ceiling and down the slide to the witch’s sanctum by scent more than torchlight; even Peregrine could discern the acrid smell of spells in the air. The cold met the heat in the chambers just outside her caves, creating drafts that sometimes threatened to blow him off his feet. All around him the stones perspired, dripping both clear and cloudy tears to the floor. He carried his shoes; it was easier for him to find purchase on the slippery ground. Betwixt was not so lucky.
    His bare toes paused at the edge of the moat surrounding the witch’s lair. Even after all this time he’d never gotten quite used to the natural illusion this stretch of still water created, mirroring the high ceiling above into a yawning chasm below, while only in truth a mere finger’s-length deep. It was a constant reminder of the falsehood in which Peregrine lived: lies built on top of other lies living inside yet even more lies. Before his reflection could add to the treachery, he kicked a stray rock into the moat and broke the spell.
    The walls of the witch’s spellcasting lair were opaque and dull; they contained none of the flecks that caught the lantern light like fairydust. Crystals did not grow here, nor did any other living thing. Strange spells had long since stripped this cave of any color or life it had ever had. Nothing remained except madness and ancient bones covered by centuries of calcified rock. As he always did when he entered this chamber, Peregrine prayed to Lord Death that these fallen warriors did not know the insanctity of their resting place.
    Betwixt sneezed several times in succession at the foul odor. Peregrine fought back tears himself at the stench, so much worse than usual this time, like burned flesh and urine. He quickly located the source: the witch’s infernal cauldron. Had she filled it with Earthfire?
    “I brought the map,” he called out, his body still mostly obscured by the steam from the cauldron. “I’ll just put it here for you.” He tossed the map onto the closest table and turned to leave as quickly as he’d arrived.
    “Thank you, my dear.” The words were even in tone, sober, seductive. When the witch channeled this much of the dragon’s magic, her demon aspect was fully visible. Her skin darkened to lapis lazuli and her hair took on an ethereal indigo sheen. Her knobby fingers were tipped with rough claws, and her horns seemed to have grown. Her hollow eye sockets were black enough to mask the face of Lord Death himself.
    This was the true face of the witch—the true face of all witches, though their demon aspects varied by element. As the fey were children of the gods, witches were the children of demons. This particular witch was a lorelei: a water demon.
    “I do wish you would