Chapter 200

Helen’s POV

Rather than pushing me away like he usually did after our lovemaking, my Huntsman crawled back on his hands and knees, groaning again. But this time, it looked like his face was not contorted in pleasure but in pain.

I was torn. I wanted to lay on my back, tipping my hips up so that his seed could find its way as deep within me as possible. I wanted him to have impregnated me. But I also wanted to go to his side and ease his pain.

I patted the floor next to my shoulder. “Come here, my love. I'll try to tend to you.”

He grunted and started towards me, and then collapsed to the floor, face down on the carpet. I shrieked, scrambling to my hands and knees and shaking his shoulders.

“Huntsman! Huntsman! My husband, my darling, my love. What's wrong?”

This time he clutched at his throat and let out a scream. Fire shot from his mouth. I shouted and scrambled back from him. Even Martin hurried out of the way.

I looked at Martin. “You're a wizard. What's wrong? Fix him.”

“I've never seen anything like this,” Martin said, shaking his head at me.

The Huntsman continued to writhe around on the floor. By now, it looked like his skin was boiling. It bubbled and popped, letting out a grotesque stench.

“What does this?” I yelled at Martin.

He shook his head, his face masked with horror. “I don't know. Do humans normally do this?”

Something scratched at the back of my brain. Somehow applying the term human to the Huntsman seemed wrong. But what I should call him instead eluded me.

The fire ceased coming from his mouth, and he lay panting on the floor, a charred spot on the carpet in front of his face. Whatever was causing him pain seemed to have eased slightly, but it didn't stop the damage that was all over his skin, and he moaned, breathy hisses of pain escaping his lips.

Martin hurried into the kitchen and came back with his phone. “I'll look this up on the wizard net. I'll see if I can't find something. He hasn't paid me, God damn it. If I can't fix him, I'm never going to see that money.”

“Paid you for what?” I asked.

“None of your business,” he growled.

He started flipping through his phone, punching buttons. At the same time, a new wave of pain took over the Huntsman. His body stiffened and bent in odd directions as he thrashed against whatever was going on inside his body.

This went on for what seemed like an hour, but it was hard to tell because I was so distraught that I couldn't help the sobs that rocked my body, and I could barely see through the tears.

Martin's blurred form came and went several times. He tried muttering spells over my Huntsman, but it never stopped whatever was going on with him. Over and over, these waves wracked the Huntsman's body, twisting him and ripping skin away until he was a horrible thing to behold, barely flesh anymore, half cooked and eaten away at as if chewed on by wild animals or swarms of maggots.

I was starting to feel sick to my stomach, glad that I could only see in a blur from the salt that scratched my eyes through my tears. Would my love ever be the same when he came out of this? Would he be horribly scarred?

I shook my head. It didn't matter. I would follow him to the ends of the Earth. He could look like the undead, and I would still love him. Simply being scarred from this torment wouldn't be enough to deter my love.

Finally, Martin got pissed at something he saw on his phone, chucking the device at the wall. It cracked and fell to the floor.

“What?” I asked him.

“The Huntsman's dead.”

At that, the Huntsman groaned.

“He's not!” I shrieked. “Save him.”

“I can't. If I'm right about what's going on, no one can save him. It's too late.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because someone's killing him from afar. And unless I could figure out where the magic's being done, then there's nothing I can do about it. The best I can do is save my own hide. Have fun with that.” He whipped his hand at the Huntsman's mangled body.

The Huntsman moaned, reaching feeble, charred, and bony fingers for Martin. But Martin turned on his heel and marched straight out the front door. He left the camera and the mess behind him.

I don't know how long I sat there, rocking back and forth, sobbing and promising my beloved that I would find a way to save him, knowing that even as the words left my mouth, I didn't have much of a chance. Just as I was getting up the courage to go to him, to take his hand in mine and try to comfort him in any way that I could, his entire body burst into flames.

I screamed and scrambled away again, backing against the sofa as far away from the inferno as I could get. Somehow the flames stayed contained at his body, never catching the rug on fire, just frying what was directly beneath him.

In a matter of moments, he was gone, and all that remained was a pile of sickly gray ash.

My brain cramped. It felt like somebody had stepped on it, fixed it, and then twisted around in it, like looking for beetles in the dirt.

Thoughts rained down on me, pelting my sore and abused brain like rocks on a windshield, cracking a layer of glass that I hadn't even been aware was there. Looking through it, I could see what was on the other side.

New screams of terror ripped from my throat. I cried so hard my chest hurt, and I choked, gagging and vomiting on the floor.

“Oh, my God. What have I done?”

I'd been the Huntsman's plaything for five days. I wanted . . . I wanted him to get me pregnant.

I snatched my skirt off the floor and scrapped between my legs, trying to get out anything that I could, knowing full well that I would just have to rely on nature and the fact that I hadn't gone into heat. Hopefully, that was enough to save me from bearing the Huntsman's child. The last thing we needed was a quarter demon mixed with werewolf genes.

My lip curled back. I thought back on the hours that he'd spent writhing around on the rug, slowly cooking from the inside out, and a sick part of me thought that that was too good for him. I wished the torture had gone on for much longer after what he did to Julianne and me.

Oh, my God. Julianne!

I scrambled off the floor, running for the hallway.

“Help! Help!”

I could hear her beating on the floor of the attic.

“I'm coming, Julianne!” I screamed.

I jumped up, grabbing the latch for the stairs to the attic and pulling down the trap door. Julianne practically tumbled down the stairs. I caught her, and the two of us sobbed in each other's arms.

“I can't believe it. I can't believe what we did,” she groaned.

“Neither can I,” I agreed. “But it's done. He's ash in the living room. Freya? Are you still here?”

The pixie let out her tinkling cry and rushed in from the living room. A little ball of light hurtled into my forehead, smacking so hard it hurt, but I knew that she was hugging and kissing me.

“It's over,” I cried.

“It's over, finally,” Freya chirped.

I put both hands to my mouth. “Oh, my God. Did they really send those videos to Justin?”

“Yes,” she said. There was sadness in her voice. “But Justin and Randy and Russo and Lisa, they all saw, and they know they know that you were under a spell. They saw the Huntsman put the spell on you. It was clear the moment your eyes glazed over, and the magic took hold.

She fluttered back to where I could see her. “I can't say that it's going to be easy for you to go back to Justin knowing what you know and him knowing as well. But at the very least, he'll believe you this time. It won't be like when you stabbed him. He'll know that you didn't do anything of your own free will.”

Julianne's face crumbled, and she started crying harder. “What about Peter?” she sobbed. “What do I tell him?”

Freya hopped over, skimming magic across Julianne's forehead in an attempt to calm her down. “Don't worry. Everyone else will vouch for you, as well. You'll have to repair things between you and Peter, too, but it's all going to be okay eventually.”