Witching Hour: Blood Magic Book 3

by L.H. Cosway

  “Perhaps I’m the one who should be asking you that question,” Ethan said, casting me a speculative glance.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  One eyebrow rose sharply. “It means I’d like to know how exactly you managed to burn off half of Eliza’s face with nothing but the palm of your hand. It’s not just your blood that’s powerful. You have magic in you, too. A lot of it.”

  I folded my arms, feeling a little too exposed. “My magic is something I don’t fully understand yet.”

  “Is Rita helping you to understand?”

  “She’s trying her best, yes.”

  “You’ll be formidable when you realise your full potential,” he said, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of awe in his voice. I flushed at the compliment.

  “I wish I knew how to call on the magic whenever I like. Most of the time it only comes out when I’m in great peril.”

  Ethan nodded, his expression turning thoughtful, almost like he was plotting something.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked warily.

  He scratched his head. “I just had a wild idea … never mind.”

  “No,” I urged, stepping closer. “Tell me.”

  Just like that, his eyes flashed black, and the next thing I knew his fangs were out and he was advancing on me like he was about to attack. He hissed and crowded me against the wall of the house. I yelped, my heart racing as every tiny hair on my body stood on end.

  In a fight or flight response, my magic came to life. My hands whipped out at him, overflowing with burning sparks like a sink where somebody left the tap running too long. He reared back out of range of the sparks and his fangs retracted. His eyes went back to normal, and he gave me a slow grin, looking satisfied. My magic faded.

  “Nifty little defence mechanism you’ve got there,” he said, sounding impressed. “When you feel threatened your magic comes out to keep you safe. Interesting.”

  I stared at him, mouth agape. “Are you shitting me? I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. You scared me half to death.”

  “I was trying to help test your theory and it worked. Now you know that if someone tries to attack you, your magic will come out to fend them off.”

  “There are less startling ways to test a theory,” I griped.

  Ethan flashed me a grin. “Yes, but this one was more fun.”

  “For you, maybe,” I huffed, and he chuckled softly. This was the first time he seemed to genuinely not hate my company in weeks, and I couldn’t help the small woosh of butterflies that filled my chest at his deep laughter.

  I scowled at him, resisting the urge to grin as I began heading back inside the house. “Try to keep the noise down. I’m going back to bed.”

  I reached out to turn the handle on the back door and gasped when Ethan’s arms slipped around me from behind. I swear I stopped breathing when he nuzzled his nose into the hollow of my neck. “How it kills me to know you sleep under the same roof as that slayer,” he whispered, and my heart didn’t know what to do with itself. He pressed a soft, barely-there kiss just below my ear, and my core tightened. “Your scent is maddening.” I was about to swoon, but then he broke the spell when he continued, “I long for the day when I don’t want you anymore, lumina mea. Perhaps then I’ll have the courage to walk away.”

  Air got trapped in my lungs. What he said hurt me deeply, but when I turned around to confront him, he was already gone.

  ***

  The next day I joined Rita in her RV, and we hit the books. Gabriel left her with two large boxes full of magical texts and research material before he, Alvie, and Noreen departed on their travels. I was somewhat envious of them because with everything that was going on right now, I really wouldn’t mind a road trip away from the city.

  We sat and read for most of the morning and well into the afternoon, taking notes here and there. Rita was searching for information on how to either destroy the mist or send it back to wherever it came from, while I looked for more details on how to hide Rebecca’s blood and how to retrieve a human from hell.

  So, you know, just basic stuff.

  I read for so long it felt like my eyes were going to fall out of their sockets, only putting down the dusty old hardback I’d been scanning when Rita slammed her hands onto the surface of the table.

  “That’s it! I can’t believe how simple it is,” she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What? Did you find something?” I scooted closer to her and peered over her shoulder at the book spread out before her. I flipped to the front cover quickly to see the title. On Other Dimensions and Their Inhabitants by E.J. Edwards. Seriously, where did Gabriel get all these books from? More to the point, who published them? Was there a secret market for educational texts that specialised in the supernatural?

  I flipped back to the page Rita had been on, and she tapped her finger down on a small paragraph.

  “This bit here explains what the mist is. It’s a kind of physical manifestation of chaos, but not just a manifestation. It’s a parasite too, feeding off sanity. When the mist manages to break out of hell and into other planes where there’s a moral life-force, it infests and drives the plane to self-destruction. In the case of this city, humans are the life-force whose sanity is being drained. It’s likely the mist doesn’t affect the vampires, or you and me, because we’re a mutation. I need to warn Finn about this. He and the majority of Pamphrock’s slayers are human and susceptible to the corruption. It says that once these chaos creatures mix with a foreign atmosphere they multiply, kind of like bacteria in a Petri dish.”

  “Ethan mentioned something about that last night. He said he felt like the mist was multiplying.”

  “Well, don’t worry too much,” Rita said as she gestured to the book. “In here, we have all the directions for how to kill them. All we need is a mixture of salt, holy water, and vinegar. We spray it at the mist, and it disintegrates.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Holy water?”

  “Tangible objects, or even liquid that’s been imbued with religious blessing, can be very powerful when it comes to fighting evil.”

  “But holy water doesn’t do anything to vampires, right?”

  “No, because vampires aren’t the undead. They’re a separate species,” she explained, echoing something that Ethan had told me when I first found out what he was. “Sure, some of them are bad people, like Whitfield, but they aren’t inherently evil.”

  “Are all of the magical families corrupt, or just the ones we’ve happened to come into contact with?”

  “God, no, there are some lovely people born to the magical families. You met some of them at my house back before that bastard Michael Ridley burned it to the ground.” She paused to eye me. “And your mother was more than likely born to a magical family. Mum mentioned that she suspects she was a daughter of the Petrovskys.”

  “Yeah, I’ve barely had time to look into that with everything that’s been going on.”

  “Well, at least you’re not related to an evil sorcerer. Sometimes I …” she trailed off, and I wondered what she’d been about to say. She glanced at me a moment, then continued quietly, “Sometimes I get scared that one day I’ll become like him. That I’ll let the darkness take me over.”

  “That won’t happen. I know you. You might enjoy a little bit of mischief now and again, but you could never become like Theodore.”

  Rita sat back, a faraway look in her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like inside my head. Ever since Theodore tried to lure me to him the other day, I’ve been feeling the part of me that comes from him getting stronger. Like it’s growing.”

  I frowned because what she said was concerning. “You’re just going to have to try harder to hold on to the part that comes from Noreen then, okay?”

  “Okay,” she sighed, and a moment of quiet elapsed. “Come on, there’s vinegar and salt in the kitchen. Let’s find Finn and see if he knows where we can get our hands on some holy water.”


  A half an hour later, we were in Finn’s car, driving towards a church he attended in the inner city called St. Peter’s. Finn was a practising Catholic and went to mass most Sundays, something I hadn’t been aware of until now. When he disappeared on Sunday mornings I’d assumed he was going to work.

  The traffic was heavy, so Finn turned on the radio to pass the time. A news bulletin came on, and a male announcer’s voice streamed through the speakers.

  “There has been a traffic accident involving several vehicles in the city today causing unexpected delays. The area around Renfrew Avenue has been cordoned off so drivers are asked to avoid this route if possible. The accident comes heavy on the heels of a string of violent attacks, which occurred late last night. Like the riot earlier this week, these attacks are thought to be gang-related. The authorities are advising citizens to avoid the inner city at night, as this is when the bulk of the attacks have been taking place. I’m Dean Jones bringing you the afternoon news. We’ll be back at six with an update.”

  “Well, shit.” Finn blew out a frustrated breath.

  “Do you think we should turn back? The announcer said the accident happened around Renfrew Avenue. That’s close to St. Peter’s, isn’t it?”

  Finn ran his teeth over his bottom lip, deciding. “No, we’re almost there. No point turning back. We’ll have to be in and out quick though, buy as many bottles of holy water as we can and get the feck out of there. There’s a little shop to the left just as you go inside that’s run by nuns. They sell funeral cards and rosaries and the like. If I remember correctly, they normally have holy water for sale, too.” He stopped then, glancing at me then Rita. “There’s a small chance we could get caught up in some fighting. I’m presuming you two will be able to defend yourselves?”

  Rita patted the brown leather satchel at her side. “I came prepared. I’ve got a few potions in here that will drive away any nutty humans.”

  “Well, I’ve got nothing,” I said. “Though it seems my magic always comes out when I’m threatened. If all else fails I guess I’ll resort to using these,” I said, humorously holding up my fists.

  Finn frowned, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while he reached into the glove compartment with the other. I watched as he pulled out a narrow, rectangular leather box and dropped it into my lap. “Little present for you.”

  I opened the box and found a vintage barber’s razor sitting inside. It was folded in half and had a carved wooden handle. I stared at Finn. “Is this for me?”

  He kept his eyes trained on the road as he nodded. “Be careful with it. I wasn’t going to give it to you so soon. I’d been hoping to train you first, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  As he spoke, I glanced out the window and saw a woman giving her boyfriend a whack across the face with her handbag. I couldn’t decide if they were having a regular domestic or if the chaos mist had gotten into them.

  I focused back on the blade in my hand and flicked it open, holding it away from my body. “This is so cool, but I’m not sure I need it. As I said, I’ve got my magic to keep me safe.”

  Finn’s expression turned serious. “That’s all well and good, but you need real fighting skills, too. What if you’re standing face to face with a hungry vamp or a crazed human and your magic doesn’t come to you? You’ll be glad to have something tangible to use as a weapon then, you mark my words.”

  Touched by the gesture, I muttered a grateful, “Thanks,” and on instinct leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “This has to be the most thoughtful yet disturbing gift anyone’s ever gotten for me,” I said.

  Finn coughed and smiled, and I swear I caught a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “You’re welcome. I’ll teach you how to use it properly soon. You’ve got the look of a woman who’d be good with a blade. Just try not to use it unless absolutely necessary for now, okay?”

  “Okay,” I replied, grinning and imagining myself being able to use it like a pro someday. I’d be so kickarse.

  “Well, that’s just lovely, did you not bother getting anything for me?” Rita asked teasingly.

  Finn glanced at her in his middle mirror. “You don’t need any of the weapons I could give you. You’ve got a better chance of staying alive than any of us, witchy-pants.”

  She seemed appeased by this. “That’s true.” A pause. “Don’t call me that again.”

  Finn chuckled and pulled into a free parking spot. “We’ll have to get out and walk from here. There’s too much traffic.”

  He handed an empty backpack to each of us for carrying the bottles of holy water, and Rita pulled hers on over her leather satchel. I was curious to know what potions she was hiding in there.

  As we walked the short distance to the church, I felt a frenetic energy in the air, putting me on edge. The chaos mist had a firm grip on the city now. I could sense it, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  Tribane had always been a dangerous place to live, even before you factored in all the supernatural creatures, but this was something else entirely. A man stood in a shop doorway, eyeing us aggressively like he was just itching to start a fight. We passed him swiftly, and I slid the blade Finn gave me out of its box and into my coat pocket. It was always good to be ready.

  When we reached the entrance to St. Peter’s, I smelled the familiar churchy scent of incense and old wooden furniture. Finn walked up to the font of holy water, dipped his fingers in, and blessed himself. Rita and I hurried to the little shop on the left.

  It was quiet and dark inside the main building with only a handful of people kneeling in the pews, their heads bent in prayer. Candlelight flickered up by the alter.

  In the shop, a nun was sitting behind a glass window serving customers. On the shelves and display stands were cards, rosary beads, and various kinds of religious memorabilia. I even spotted some thimbles with the Pope’s face on them. Over in the corner, there were stacked bottles of holy water. The nun was currently serving an old man in a grey shirt and about three other customers were standing behind him.

  “How are ya, Sister Frances?” Finn called out, saluting the nun.

  I almost laughed at how casually he greeted her. She glanced up and gave him a warm smile, muttering a quiet, “Hello, Finn, good to see you.”

  “Is Father McGuire around by any chance?” he asked, going up to stand by the glass window. Seeing Finn among ordinary people opened my eyes to just how intimidating his appearance was. Intimidating and sexy. Even Sister Frances seemed to be blushing at his focused attention. There was a faint pinkness to her cheeks, and the phrase he could charm the knickers off a nun sprang to mind. If anyone could do it, Finn could.

  The waiting customers eyed him warily.

  “I think he might be in the rectory,” Sister Frances managed to squeak out, blushing more profusely now.

  “Grand job, I’d like to have a word with him. My friends here want to purchase some holy water.” He paused and nodded to me and Rita. “They’ve a very sick aunt who’s requesting to be bathed in it. They’ll probably want to buy up your whole stock. Would that be okay?”

  What a weird explanation. Then again, perhaps being bathed in holy water wouldn’t sound so strange to a nun. She might be used to carrying out such requests for the sick and dying.

  “Oh yes, of course. I’ll just finish up with these people here, and I’ll be right with you.”

  “Lovely.” Finn gave her a warm smile, and the nun turned back to her line of customers.

  He strode back to me and Rita, rubbing his hands together. “That’s that taken care of. We’ll have our chaos killing juice put together in no time.”

  He rested his arm along my shoulders, all casual. Then his thumb began rubbing absently back and forth across the material of my coat, and I wondered at the affectionate gesture.

  Rita started looking through a selection of rosary beads. “These could make for a fun accessory. Though I’m pretty sure they don’t work on vamps like they do in the movies.”
/>   “God forbid we have it that easy,” Finn muttered under his breath.

  “They’d still look cool though. I can wear them ironically or something.”

  “Where does the irony come in?” Finn asked.

  “I’m the offspring of evil wearing a representation of godliness and prayer, get it?”

  Finn was just about to say something in reply when a scream filtered through from the main area of the church. We all looked at each other in alarm. Sister Frances paled behind her glass window. She’d clearly been keeping abreast of the news and feared the increasing violence had found its way to St. Peter’s.

  Finn’s arm dropped from my shoulders, and we hurried out to see where the scream came from. At first, the place seemed empty, but then my eyes reached the alter and my heart stopped. A priest was pummelling a man who’d been praying in the pews when we’d entered. The sight was wrong on so many levels. Finn rushed toward the priest and pulled him away from the man by wrapping his strong arms around the priest’s middle.

  The priest struggled and fought against Finn’s hold. “Let go of me, you bastard. Let me fucking go,” he spat.

  “Now, now, Father McGuire, is that any way for a man of the cloth to be talking?” Finn chided, perspiring a little in his struggle to keep the priest at bay.

  I hurried to the guy he’d hit, about to try and help him to his feet, when I stopped in my tracks. Slithering out like a snake from behind the altar came a grey mist. Before I knew it, it seeped into the man and his eyes rolled back in his head. I turned to Rita and found her backing up close to me as the mist advanced on her.

  “It can’t get into us, remember?” I said, grabbing her arm. “Did you bring the vinegar and the salt with you?”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “Good. We’ve got to make the mixture now. Run and get some holy water from the shop. Quickly.” Again, she nodded and hurried through the mist. It parted for her like the Red Sea, as though repelled by her very presence, which was a relief.

  The man’s eyes came back into focus, only now they were completely black. It wasn’t just a little bit of the mist that had gotten into him, it was the whole thing. The sight made my blood run cold. One side of his mouth tilted upward in a sickening, sadistic grin.