“Take me in her place.”
She said it so calmly that Patrick was certain he’d misheard. No, he tried to say. The warning screamed in his head but he could do nothing of it.
“Take me,” Andy said again, breathlessly. She pulled uselessly at Their magic. “Let her go and I’ll take her place. I’m the one you want.”
They turned and pointed the dagger right at her. They twisted his mouth into a satisfied grin.
“Very well.”
Andy
Her stomach rolled, unsettling what little breakfast she’d forced down. There came a distinct weightless feeling—a familiar sensation from years of practiced levitation. Then came compression, a tightening all about her.
Something gripped her and held her in place, forcing her to remain still. Andy gasped when the deluge hit and the concentrated power inside the circle seeped into her skin, clung to her body. It surrounded her and penetrated her down to her very soul, incredible and painful.
She hadn’t realized she couldn’t see until blackness receded from her vision. She’d hoped to never see it again, but the ceremonial blade grasped in the revenant’s hand was as sharp and deadly as ever. Cruel, empty eyes looked down upon her.
Now she understood why her spell had not released him. Patrick Jennings was gone, truly. When she looked into those eyes, she found no trace of the man. Only Them, inside his corpse.
Casey groaned and tried to move, but like Andy only seconds before, the revenant had her pinned to the wall. Free of the circle and saved from sacrifice, but not free of the magic wielded around her.
And neither was Andy.
She ground her teeth against the potency of the circle’s power. It did no good. Every breath pulled magic into her lungs. It burned and it soothed. More. Gods, she wanted more.
No. Don’t give in. Don’t. She could not allow the pulse of magic to influence her more than it already had.
She focused on Casey instead of the magic. The girl’s lips pulled back into a sneer that showed her teeth as she struggled against the invisible bonds.
“Casey. Casey, don’t—” Andy took in a deep breath and a tingle of magic raced down her spine. “Don’t fight. It’s okay.”
“Andy, no! You can’t let him—Them, whoever!—you can’t let Them do this!”
“It’s okay. I know what I’m doing.”
“Andy—!”
“For fuck’s sake, Casey!” Her patience had worn thin from the invading magic and her futile attempts to block out the surplus. Her anger snapped immediately to the surface. “Shut the fuck up!”
Casey shut up.
The revenant gave a hollow chuckle. “You always were so passionate. So angry. You feel it, don’t you? Ebbing and flowing around you. Inside you. Sweeter than magic.” The voice lowered. “But together—”
“Shut up!”
They laughed and the timbre of it shook her. Fuck, They were right. Magic and anger together made a heady sensation. Gods, she wanted nothing more than to absorb it, give in to it, let it all out, but Andy wouldn’t allow that. She would not play into Their hands.
“You won’t get my power,” she said through clenched teeth. “Not that way. Not any way.”
Again They laughed. “We’ll have more than that, love. Guaranteed.”
So, the Hallowed Circle Coven didn’t mean to kill her yet. No. They stood on ceremony and protocol. They’d want a proper sacrifice and a proper sacrifice required specific timing and well-spoken rituals. The visions, the summonings, and finally a sacrifice—her sacrifice.
She would not let it happen. They would not get her power, her blood, or her life. They’d get nothing.
But it gave her time—time to think, time to fight. Too little time, but perhaps just enough to save them.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.” Her hair lifted away from her face when she exhaled. Resolved, Andy glared at the revenant. Immobilized, her fingers couldn’t move, but it didn’t stop her from spindling magic in her head. She knew words disguised as spells. Could any of them break through the barrier and save her and Casey?
They had to.
The hilt of the blade gathered the dying light as the revenant turned it in hand. It was the same dagger from the night before, the same one intended to drain her power and end her life. She watched it warily and the revenant smiled cruelly.
“You recognize it, don’t you?”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“We thought you might. It’s a touch poetic, We thought. The very same dagger you used to claim your place with Us. It seemed… fitting.”
Andy closed her eyes against the pulsing power pressing in upon her and tried not to think of Jeremy’s lifeless body on the blood-soaked table. “Poetry, huh? Tobias, I never knew you were so artistic.”
When They didn’t respond, she opened her eyes. “Bernice?” she ventured. “Salvadore?”
Again, They said nothing to reveal an identity but the blade went still. Air hissed from between the revenant’s clenched teeth.
Andy had no solid play but bringing Them to annoyance might prove a helpful distraction. Her fingertips buzzed with power. A dozen different words fluttered in the back of her mind, each one primed with a different spell. She only needed one, one good word to break apart the circle. Andy had broken plenty of circles before. A single second could make all the difference. If Their irritation got the better of Them, if she just allowed herself to—
The dagger came down in a flash, its point tearing through the barrier. Deep cracks and fissures rippled through it, as red as blood and seeping power. Magic sparked, white-hot and electric, and Andy gasped as it washed over her.
She couldn’t throw her spell, couldn’t even brace herself. The dagger blazed bright with absorbed energy, pulsing dangerously red and black. They broke Their own circle. They released Their power. Why would They—?
A crack resounded.
Thunder, she thought, before the back of her head collided with the altar.
Casey
It happened faster than she could follow. All hell broke loose. Lights flashed—red, white, black—and for a moment, it blinded her. When her vision cleared, she saw Andy at the altar, her head bent forward so her long hair spilled into her face.
Oh, God. Was she dead?
“Andy,” she cried. “Andy!”
The redhead didn’t stir.
Fuck. Fuck!
Casey’s arms and legs felt lead-lined, but she could move. She hurried to the altar and leaned over the witch. “Andy?” She pushed the hair from her face, the red strands almost indistinguishable from the blood oozing from the gash at her temple. She felt her wrist for a pulse.
There! She found it strong and steady. She wasn’t dead; only unconscious. “C’mon.” She tried to rouse her, but it didn’t work. More blood trickled down her face when her head lolled back. “Wake up, Andy. Please.”
Light flashed again, the air humming and snapping with violent magic. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and Casey whipped around.
The revenant stood at the entrance of the church, dagger still in hand, knuckles white from the tight grip. His eyes had gone blacker than black. They weren’t her father’s eyes anymore.
That’s not your father.
Across from him, a couple of feet away, stood Mason. His clothes were sodden, his white dress shirt clinging to his chest. Water dripped from his suit jacket, leaving puddles at his feet. His eyes, too, looked less than human, burning with unnatural blue light.
A rumble shook the foundation of the church. The next Casey knew, Mason had hit the floor, with the revenant just a couple of feet from him. They both lunged for the fallen dagger between them. Mason swept out his arm and a wave of his magic tossed the revenant back and away. He snatched the dagger in hand and a second later, it vanished. Gone.
Where had it gone? And why was he wet? Where had he come from? No time for questions now; they had to move.
Andy’s head rolled forw
ard. She groaned and muttered something. Casey slid an arm around her shoulders and one around her waist. “We have to get out of here. C’mon. Move with me.”
Andy moved sluggishly. “What?” She looked up, squinting.
The revenant drew his arms back. Shimmering red energy formed around them, swirling until it concentrated into his palms.
Casey tugged on Andy’s arm when she froze, attempting to steer her away. “Move. Keep moving.” While Mason held the revenant at bay, they had to get out of here. Get to the coven house, or the shop—anywhere, but here. What she wouldn’t give right now to be able to teleport away.
Andy took two steps before she stopped. “No,” she murmured. “No. I have to help. I have to see this through.”
“Andy—”
“I have to.” She pushed Casey’s arm off her. Her feet faltered when she stepped back, but she righted herself. Blood streaked down her face and her neck, but she hadn’t noticed it yet. “Casey, stay back. Hide somewhere. This is gonna get ugly—real damn ugly.”
Andy’s hands twisted at her sides. Her fingers moved back and forth, magic dancing between them. It was hypnotic, the way the purple strands wound themselves around Andy’s hands.
“Casey! Go!” Andy urged, snapping her back to reality.
But where could she go? Behind the altar? Under one of the overturned pews? She stood rooted, fear and uncertainty holding her hostage, like a deer caught in the high beams.
Something inside the circle popped, bubbled. A single droplet of black sizzled upon the floorboard. Awful-smelling smoke rose from it. It smelled like something died and Casey nearly gagged, quickly putting her hand over her nose. “Andy—”
The magic Andy kindled dropped from her palms as she went still. “No,” she whispered. She wiped her hand across her face, smearing blood on her cheek. When she saw the red on her fingers, her eyes widened. “No. Oh, no.” She edged back, pushing Casey behind her. “Get back now!”
The urgency in Andy’s voice scared her. She stepped back as fast as she could only to trip over her own feet. She fell backward onto her butt, which placed her level with the circle.
Red light illuminated the symbols surrounding it. The dark smoke within it rose higher. Oh. Oh, that wasn’t smoke at all. It was—
Inky blackness. A shadow. It took the shape of smoke, but never thinned or dissipated. It curled ever upwards, darker and thicker. Cold dread flooded through Casey. Frantically, she looked to Andy.
Andy stood transfixed, her face so pale it made the blood on her cheek all the brighter. Her gaze stayed on the circle, on that not-smoke-shadow thing as it lifted. For a minute, she looked as terrified as Casey felt.
Casey placed a hand on her arm and Andy jolted, awakening from her stupor. She stumbled back and tore her gaze away from the circle. “Move,” she told her, giving her another little shove and turned toward the front of the church.
Casey wanted to look away but she couldn’t. Still dripping wet, Mason held out his hands toward the revenant. A stream of low spoken words fell from his lips. A spell.
The red hue surrounding the revenant faded away. He turned to face her and right before her eyes, the darkness receded from his eyes. The natural blue of them once again shone through and there was a clarity in them that she hadn’t seen in four years.
Her father. It was really him. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded in her ears. “Dad?”
He held her eyes for what seemed like an eternity. When he moved, it was all too quickly. He clapped his hands together in one swift, fierce motion. The sound came like thunder again, crashing around them. Casey instinctively cupped her hands over her ears and winced. Andy’s mouth moved, but Casey couldn’t hear anything but a whine, high in her ears.
And then it hit.
Casey knew she screamed, but she didn’t hear it, only felt the rawness in her throat. A force threw her back and she put her hands over her head and rolled when she hit the floor. Dust stirred in her wake. When she stopped, she coughed and lifted her head.
Oh, God. Oh my God.
Black and red spilled from the summoning circle. Oil. Blood. Ink.
A pair of strong arms grabbed her, hoisting her from the floor. Instinctively, she tensed and fought, kicking her legs with all her strength.
Sound came roaring back all at once. “Get back. Get back!” Mason shouted, dragging her away from the foulness pouring forth from the circle.
“My dad? Where’s my dad?”
“Casey—”
“No! My dad! I saw him. Where—?” She saw him a short distance away, half-buried beneath an overturned pew. His eyes were open and blue. Black blood dotted his lip, his mouth moving feebly as he tried to speak.
“Let go of me! Let go!” Casey cried. Mason released her and she broke free, scrambling across the floor to Patrick’s side. “Dad? It’s me. It’s Casey. I’m here, Dad. And you’re—”
The darkness behind her widened into a cold, yawning void.
Andy
The vortex of black energy kicked out frigid air, turning Andy’s breath to fog. And with each breath she took, the permeating magic around it filled her. Her body damn near vibrated with it.
Oh, gods. She wanted it all. She wanted to drink it in, like water, like wine, like whiskey. She wanted to be drunk on that power.
It dulled, quickly, when Mason brought up a hand. He placed another magical barrier between themselves and the swirling vortex. It shimmered in faint blue and red hues and Andy stared through it, beyond it to the darkness.
She’d seen it before, this darkness. The darkness. In her vision, it had taken Casey. Would it take her now? Would she witness her vision unfold right before her eyes? Her stomach churned.
“A portal,” Mason said.
The barricade he’d erected staved off much of the influx of power, but Andy could still feel it, coiling around her. A shiver swept through her. “Can you close it?”
Mason said nothing. His hands flexed at his sides, closing into tight fists before he released them. His nostrils flared when he exhaled. “I can, yes,” he finally replied. “And I must—before anything slips through. It will not be easy.”
Nothing was ever easy. It wouldn’t be some little demon pest crawling out of that hole this time. This summoning—this was it. The big one.
“My blood, Mason. My blood opened it.” She touched her face again and her fingers came away sticky. Her stomach turned again.
Mason drew power from the air around him, pulling it into himself. His eyes darkened with it, from sapphire blue to cloudy gray. “I know,” he said, voice husky from the magic’s influence.
Her fault. Her mess.
She glanced toward Casey. The girl knelt on the dirty floor, leaning over the revenant. “He’s still alive,” she said, turning her stricken face briefly to Andy.
Alive. No, he wasn’t alive, and the very same would be said of them if they didn’t close this void now.
Tendrils of black snaked out and crawled along the floor. The sound of it unsettled her—not quite a roar or a hiss, but something between. Even with Mason’s wall in place, Andy could still hear it. She could still feel it.
“I am removing the barrier,” Mason warned.
No, she wanted to say. Don’t. I don’t want to bear the responsibility. Instead, Andy spaced her feet apart, shifted her center of gravity, and prepared herself. “Okay. I’m ready.”
She followed Mason’s cue and held out her hands when he did. She faltered when he pulled it down and the power flooded over her. She pulled herself up taller, fighting the buckling of her knees, and thrust out her arms. The power they gathered made an audible buzz when released at the portal.
Purple-tinted magic cascaded from her fingers. It took everything Andy had to give and more, but she didn’t stop. Ignoring her weariness, she gave all her strength to seal the portal. The air snapped apart with a deafening crack. The floor shook and the walls rattled. The panes of stained-glass shifted then fell, s
hattering around them. Casey let out a startled cry. Andy ground her teeth together and ignored it all.
The vortex pulsed. Andy thought she heard something else besides the hum of magic and the explosions of glass—a scream. Black spilled like darkened water upon the floor and spread toward them.
“Hold steady!” Mason called.
She held as steady as she could but her hands shook. Hair spilled into her face. She couldn’t hold it for long, but she gave her best. With a final push and a loud cry, she threw out every last bit of magic she had. It erupted from her in a brilliant wave of purple and black light.
Andy turned her face away when the portal burst. The shock wave sent her back. She lost her footing and finally fell to her knees. Her breath came out raggedly and she kept her head down. When she tasted blood in her mouth, she swallowed it down. An eternity passed before she lifted her head.
No vortex, but the circle remained, its etched symbols faded and dull and cracked apart.
But the circle wasn’t empty.
The figure curled in on itself. Its white flesh a stark contrast to the dark pools of inky black that seeped out from underneath—too dark to be blood as she knew it. The knobs of the spine were clear, as were the ribs jutting out from under pale, almost translucent skin.
Andy couldn’t move. Her arms were heavy, her legs even heavier. They dragged as she pulled herself to her feet.
“Andy…” Mason warned.
She ignored him and inched forward. The figure stirred.
He was naked from the waist up and the trousers he wore were in tatters. His long hair reached just past his shoulders, as dark as the blackness dripping off his body, from the equally black hair of his unruly beard. His lips parted, moved, but no sound came out.
At first, Andy thought both of his eyes were gone and only the empty sockets remained. Hollow. She held her breath and forced herself to peer into them.
Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles Page 15
