Witching Hour: Blood Magic Book 3

by L.H. Cosway

  He stretched his hands out on the floor and began crawling towards me, super-fast. I stumbled backward, the backs of my legs hitting off the edge of a pew. I looked to Finn and saw he wasn’t just struggling to keep a hold of the priest. He was also trying to avoid several clouds of mist that were swirling around him like predators, waiting for their chance to claim his body, too.

  Normally, I liked the fact that Finn was human, but right then I really wished he had something supernatural about him. It was one thing when a peace-loving priest went crazy, but it was another entirely when a man like Finn, who knew exactly how to kill, lost his marbles.

  I pulled the razor from my pocket, flipped it open, and swiped into the air as a warning for the crawling man to stay away from me. He stopped in his tracks and hissed, cracking his neck to the side. God, that was creepy. I felt like I was suddenly living in a horror movie.

  I kept swiping at him, but it only held him back for so long. The chaos entity inside him clearly didn’t care if I cut the body it possessed because the man came at me. I screamed and hopped up onto a pew, leaping from one to the next until I reached Finn. I swung my arms out at the clouds that were gaining on him, and I repelled them in the same way Rita did.

  All of a sudden, the book came into my head again, the one that told me about the spell for Rebecca’s blood. Like before, my mind flicked through the pages before stopping on a single line.

  To expel the chaos from human flesh, a witch or warlock must place both hands to the centre of the chest until all remnants have evacuated.

  Without thinking I dropped to my knees before the priest and pushed both of my hands to his chest. Almost instantaneously, his mouth opened and the mist fled his body in a stream of black and grey. His head sagged to the side, and I checked for a pulse. Thankfully, he was still alive, just unconscious. I imagined the possession took a lot out of him.

  Just as I was about to relax, the man from before pounced on me out of nowhere. I yelped and threw my hands out, pushing them to his chest the same way I did with the priest. His body went limp as the mist evacuated, but unlike the priest, this guy wasn’t merely unconscious. He was dead. I remembered how he’d cracked his neck to the side when he’d been coming for me. The mist killed him. I backed away, shocked by his lifeless form.

  “Shit, how did you do that?” Finn asked breathlessly.

  I shook my head, unable to explain the book that seemed to exist only inside my mind. “It just came to me.”

  I saw some mist try to slither its way toward Finn again, so I jumped in front of him and swiped at it. “Get away from him!” I shouted, and it slunk off into a dark corner of the building.

  When I looked back at Finn, he was grinning. “What?” I asked.

  “My hero,” he said, fake swooning.

  “Shut up. Do you realise this guy is dead? The mist broke his neck while it possessed him.”

  “Fuck,” Finn swore, suddenly aware of the lifeless body next to the altar.

  Footsteps pounded down the aisle as Rita ran towards us carrying a spray bottle in each hand, the kind used for cleaning products. I sputtered a manic, involuntary laugh at the sight of her, but my humour evaporated when a brick came crashing through one of the stained glass windows, shards shattering to the floor all around us.

  Several people came barrelling into the church, all of them clearly possessed by mist.

  “Never a dull moment,” Finn muttered.

  “What should we do?” I asked as Rita shoved one of the spray bottles into my hand and pulled another out of her bag for Finn.

  I saw a cloud of mist moving towards Finn’s arm, so I dove forward, squirting the liquid at it. It emitted a strange squealing sound and disintegrated into nothing. The sound was awful. It made my ears pop, but at least the mist was gone.

  “What a horrible noise,” Rita exclaimed, voicing my sentiment.

  “There they are,” one of the men who’d just come inside the church shouted. “Get them!”

  “Ah, shit.” Finn pulled a gun from the holster beneath his coat. He aimed it at the group headed our way. “Back the fuck up, or I’ll shoot,” he warned in a steady voice.

  The one who seemed to be the ringleader laughed at the threat, and they continued coming at us. I was still staring at Finn in shock that he had a gun. Normally, I saw him with a stake or a bow and arrow for killing vampires, but I guessed there was nothing better than a good old-fashioned gun when it came to fighting humans.

  I only realised that more of them had come in through the back when a woman crept up behind Rita and brutally yanked her hair, calling her a tramp.

  “Get off her,” I yelled, lunging forward and squirting my spray bottle at her like the world’s least scary chaos killer. The woman shrieked when the spray hit her face, and she backed away, her hands curled up in front of her like claws.

  “Ow! I think she pulled some hair out from the root,” Rita whined, rubbing at her scalp.

  On the other side of me, Finn had his gun in one hand and the spray bottle in the other. I’d laugh at the sight of him if I wasn’t so scared. He held the gun out while simultaneously spraying at the men who were trying to attack him. I paused, hearing a weird, melodious cackle coming from somewhere up in the chancel where the organ was kept. Scanning the room, I counted four men and three women altogether.

  “That’s it, I’m going to get the mist out of them,” I said, determined.

  “But how?” Rita asked, now standing behind me. Somehow, we’d found ourselves standing back-to-back while Finn stood in front of us.

  “Something came to me earlier,” I explained. “If I put my hands to their chests, the mist leaves their bodies. Come to think of it, you should be able to do it, too. It’s a witch thing, I think.”

  Rita’s eyes lit up. “Really? Let’s give it a try then. Finn, watch our backs and don’t hesitate to shoot the fuckers if they try to jump on us.”

  “Right you are,” Finn replied, keeping an eye on our adversaries.

  I held the spray bottle out in warning to one of the women, and she cowered away from me. Then I rushed forward and pressed my hands to her chest, while Rita did the same to the man beside her. Immediately, the mist evacuated, gushing out through their mouths.

  “This is nuts. How did you figure out how to do this?” Rita asked as we moved toward the next couple.

  “I’ve been getting these visions lately,” I said. “A book opens in my mind and presents me with the answer I’m looking for.”

  The man I was approaching grunted and swung for me, but he stumbled back when I sprayed him in the face. I put my hands to his chest and again the mist flew out of him.

  “You lucky bitch. That’s a rare one.” She sounded both envious and impressed.

  “A real turn up for the books,” Finn added humorously, having been listening in. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  “I’m seriously starting to think that you sold your soul in a past life so that you’d get all the best magic in this one,” Rita quipped.

  “Hey, it’s not as fun as it sounds. At least you don’t have blood that vampires would give their left fang for.”

  Together, we drove the mist out of the last two men, and they slumped to the floor. Now we were surrounded by seven groaning, semi-conscious bodies.

  “Only specific magical families get that gift,” Rita explained to me. “They call it the All-Knowing Tome. It’s a magical text that provides the answer to important questions, but it’s not really a text since it only exists inside the minds of the few people.”

  “So, I can ask it any question and it’ll have the answer?” This sounded awesome.

  She shook her head. “That’s not how it works. It’s like an emergency reserve. It only makes itself known when you’re in desperate need of an answer.”

  “There always has to be a catch,” I sighed.

  Rita was about to say something else when a frighteningly familiar voice whimsically agreed, “Doesn’t there, though.”<
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  I startled and swung around, looking up to the chancel where I thought I’d heard strange laughter earlier. Perched on the edge of the mezzanine was Theodore, one leg casually crossed over the other. He wore an all-black suit with white and black loafers and red socks. I wondered if Rita inherited her unusual fashion sense from him.

  Finn cocked his gun, but Theodore tutted and wagged his finger at him. “Don’t bother, slayer. You might as well be brandishing a feather for all the damage that thing will do to me.”

  Finn’s eyes turned to slits as he grudgingly holstered the weapon.

  “What do you want?” Rita demanded, a small crack in her voice. This was the first time they’d come face to face knowing the full truth of what they were to one another.

  Theodore grinned at her, his face cracking into the chilling smile of a circus clown.

  “Hello, my child. I’m not here for you. Not yet, anyway. I have a bone to pick with your friend.” He turned his head to me, and the grin vanished from his face completely, replaced with a look of grim disapproval.

  “I thought we had an agreement, Treasure,” he said with a pout. “I let you live in exchange for you not telling your friends about my return. Yet you went and babbled it all out the first chance you got. This makes me feel betrayed, and when I feel betrayed, I get angry. And when I get angry, I want to dole out punishment. The question is, what will your punishment be?”

  I swallowed hard. It felt like aeons ago that I found the note he left for me on Sycamore Strand.

  “No suggestions, eh?” Theodore chirped. “Well, I do like to be controversial, so what say I pit you against a friend?”

  Rita and I glanced at each other, simultaneously thinking the same thing. Did he think he could get the two of us to fight?

  But no, that wasn’t what the sorcerer had in mind.

  Theodore made a subtle hand gesture, and suddenly someone’s big, strong hands were wrapped around my throat, squeezing hard. I turned my head just enough to see that it was Finn. He was sweating heavily and his eyes were strained. They weren’t black, meaning the chaos hadn’t taken complete control of him yet, but I could see his internal struggle as he fought against the possession.

  Dizziness hit me. My oxygen supply was waning as I struggled to fight his hold. I was vaguely aware of Rita shouting and fighting Finn, trying to get him to release me. Theodore must’ve restrained her somehow because a second later she fell silent. I gathered just enough strength to push my hands to Finn’s chest, and the mist started to leave him. Unfortunately, it only got so far before it gushed right back inside his body.

  Theodore cackled. I tried again, but it was no use. Every time I tried to push out the mist, Theodore pushed it right back in. I brought my leg up and kneed Finn in the groin. I’d feel bad if he weren’t trying to strangle me to death.

  The strike caused him to momentarily let go, and I dropped to the floor, whimpering from the pain of my bruised throat. He recovered quickly and came at me again. I scrambled backwards, but a second later, his large, muscled body covered mine. He held me down against the cold, tiled floor and slapped me hard across the face. His panicked eyes were the only indication that he was horrified at what the mist was making him do.

  I pressed my palms to his chest, pushing out the mist, but again Theodore pushed it back in. Finally, I saw Rita was floating in mid-air, struggling against some kind of invisible forcefield that Theodore had placed around her. She looked like an angry Goth doll in a bubble.

  I tried again, pushing at Finn’s chest, and in the split second where the mist was out of him and before Theodore had the chance to force it back in, he uttered out a strangled plea, “Stab me, use the razor.”

  Then the chaos was back inside him and his hands returned to my throat. Stab him? Seriously? I couldn’t stab him. I just couldn’t. But as his death grip tightened on me and my body started to lose strength, I knew I didn’t have any other choice.

  Somewhere close by, I heard Theodore laugh. “Are you feeling sufficiently punished yet, Treasure? No? I think we’ll let this play out for a little while longer then. I always enjoy a good death match.”

  Using my left hand, I shakily pulled out the blade, unable to see any other option but my imminent demise. Tears streaked down my face, and I started to choke. I didn’t want to do this. I really, really didn’t. Time was running out though. I needed to get Finn off me so I had a chance of running. Stabbing him in the arm or the leg wouldn’t be enough of a blow. The chaos had taken over too much of him now. I tried to decide where to stab him in the stomach that wouldn’t be life-threatening.

  But what if I got it wrong and he bled out? Finn’s eyes seared into mine. I could almost hear him urging me, Do it. Do it! With no more time to think left, I chose a spot and thrust the blade into him. His hands fell away. I pulled the blade out, then panicked when I realised I probably should’ve left it in. Finn’s large body went limp, his weight falling on me. His mouth opened, and dark tendrils of mist slithered out.

  My heart leapt into overdrive when I saw more and more of his blood seeping onto the floor.

  “Ah,” Theodore said from up high, “I think Treasure has learned her lesson.”

  He swiped his hand in a downward motion, and Rita fell to the floor. Once free of her bubble she unleashed an angry tirade, pulling a glass bottle containing some kind of pink potion out of her satchel and flinging it at Theodore. It smashed into his chest and burst into pink and orange flames. Theodore grinned, and with another hand motion, the flames disappeared.

  “Bravo, my child. Very good!” He gave her a round of applause, like a proud father.

  “You bastard!” Rita screeched. “I hate you. If I could somehow purge you from me, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  Theodore gazed at her, clearly amused at her harsh words.

  “You say that now, daughter, but one day you will join me of your own accord. One day soon.” And with that, he vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.

  5.

  Rita and I stared at the smoke for a moment before reality hit us and we rushed to help Finn.

  “Shit, shit, shit! This isn’t good,” Rita said in a panic as I peeled Finn’s coat off and pushed his T-shirt up to reveal a heavily bleeding gash.

  The blood pumped out, gushing over his scarred skin. There were little healed silver scars here and there, injuries that he’d accumulated over the years while fighting vampires.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay. I have something we can use,” Rita rambled as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out all sorts of potions and lotions. Some of them moved and pulsated inside their containers, as though alive.

  Unlike Rita, who apparently didn’t stop talking in a crisis, I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to work. I did this to him. I couldn’t believe I stabbed Finn. Strong, reliable Finn, who was always on hand in a spot of trouble, was now lying unconscious on the floor of a church, possibly dying.

  Under Rita’s instructions, I tore a strip of fabric from Finn’s T-shirt, bunched it up, and held it to his wound to slow the bleeding. Rita unscrewed the cap on a bottle of slimy, slithery green liquid. She opened another that contained glittery looking sand and poured it into the slimy one. Instantly, they mixed and fused, creating a bright silver concoction.

  Rita shoved my hand out of the way and gave me the bottle. She scrunched up her nose in distaste as she pulled apart each side of the wound to create as much of an opening as she could.

  “Now, I need you to pour that in slowly. Try not to spill any on the floor.”

  I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest, and slowly poured the silver liquid into the wound. It slithered into the opening as though being sucked into a vacuum until there wasn’t a drop of it left.

  I placed the empty bottle on the floor beside me. The clink of the glass against the tile echoed through the quiet church.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Now we wait,” she answered, grabbing hold of my hand for support. I reached out
and took hold of Finn’s, too, placing it in my lap and rubbing my thumb over his palm.

  At first, he felt overly warm, but a minute later his hand turned icy cold. Not deathly cold, but a preternatural sort of cold, a purifying one. My eyes were drawn to the wound; the blood had all dried up, and the skin was knitting itself back together. My heart slowed in relief. I let go of Rita’s hand so I could pull her to me in a one-armed hug. I was too afraid to let go of Finn’s hand for fear it’d disturb the healing.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to Rita. “I seriously owe you for saving him. He would have died if you weren’t here.”

  She got all awkward then, pulling away and patting me on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Just doing my job as part-time emergency saviour,” she quipped.

  I jumped in fright when Finn let out a groan. He blearily opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. When he saw his blood-soaked clothing, he croaked out a simple, “Jesus Christ.”

  “Hey,” Rita patted him softly on the leg. “No saying the lord’s name in vain in here.”

  “I think I’m allowed a pass given the circumstances,” he replied wearily. My heart lifted with joy that he was talking, that his wound had healed.

  “What was in that mixture?” I asked Rita in amazement, looking from Finn’s face to his closed wound and back again.

  She gave me a teacherly head tilt. “It’s a magical healing elixir, similar to the poultice I used for Finn’s leg after he’d been shot. A little above your learning grade right now though. Just keep practising at night like I showed you and soon I’ll be able to teach you all my tricks.”

  This learning magic business was such a slow process. I’d been practising almost every night before I went to bed, but Rita only seemed willing to feed me tiny bits of information at a time.

  Finn squeezed my hand, and I realised that I was still holding his in a vice grip. I looked at him. “Do you remember what just happened?”