A Lying Witch Book Two
Page 15
I didn’t have the strength to rugby tackle the asshole to the ground. But nor did I need to.
Because there was something in his pocket.
I didn’t need my ability to see the future to reveal that fact – I’d seen it when he’d shoved his hand into his pocket to pull out that strange magical grenade.
Fagan wrapped an arm around my neck, trying to wrench me to the side as he brought the sword around.
He was so strong that instantly the force of his arm against my windpipe sent stars exploding through my vision.
I tried to block out the pounding, thrumming pressure building in my brain, threatening to pop my head like a cork from a champagne bottle.
I reached forward, extending my hand towards his pocket, my white, numb fingers reaching for the box….
Fagan brought the sword down.
But I finally grabbed the box.
I pressed it forward against his face, willing it to work.
As I let go of the grenade, my searching thumb brushed against a raised button. And that was all it took.
Fagan brought the sword down against my arm, but he didn’t have the force to chop right through.
Because the grenade exploded. Right in his face.
It blasted me back, sending me spinning through the air until I slammed against the floor a good ten meters away.
My head rang like I’d invited an orchestra to play inside my eardrums.
Blood dribbled out from my nose, splashing over the concrete, playing up and down the sides of my lips and cheeks.
And yet, I was alive.
Which was more than could be said for Fagan.
The magical grenade had exploded right in his face.
He was blasted across the room and fell roughly on his side. He tried to push to his feet, but he couldn’t move a muscle as those metal boxes split apart and started to climb his skin like moss on fast forward. They filled the air with the strangest noise I’d ever heard. It was like listening to a mountain growing, all condensed down into a few short seconds.
He took a wheezing breath as the metal reached his throat.
Then Fagan fell, never to stand again.
….
I lay there in complete silence, staring through one bloodied eye at Fagan’s still body.
I would have remained there forevermore had not a single spark of light suddenly shifted through my vision. Then another. Then another.
The fireflies that heralded the future were back.
My tired eyes shifted from side-to-side as I watched the light zip to and fro.
Finally, the light centered on Max.
His body was completely still, dead.
No, not dead. For as the fireflies finally formed in full, they showed me pushing to my feet. They showed me staggering over to Max, dragging his metallic form through the factory, his heavy body crumpling the plastic-covered floor.
They showed me pulling him through the open door and back into the crypt. Then I found the witches. And the witches? They saved Max.
Though I shouldn’t have any energy left in my destroyed body, that didn’t matter. I pushed to my feet, staggering like my ankles had been removed.
I made it to Max, and I did as the vision dictated. As blood dribbled down from my nose and the multiple wounds along my arms and neck, I ignored my pain.
And I saved Max’s life.
Epilogue
I was back with the witches, staring at the set of keys in my lap. They were Dimitri’s keys, and they’d survived the block-out spell that had been cast on Max.
And so had Max. He was recovering under Sarah and Bridgette’s care. Given a few hours of magical rehab, and he’d be back on his feet, apparently. Though I doubted he’d be able to remember a thing considering the amount of magic he’d used.
Which just left me alone in the lounge, staring at these keys and wondering what the hell would happen next.
According to Bridgette, Max had made light work of Dimitri. Fairies, apparently, had different powers. While Max’s power manifested as those blue flames, Dimitri could split himself up like a reflection from a shattered mirror.
I pulled the keys up and let my fingers trail through them. I listened to the jangling sound, willing it to distract me, but I would not be distracted.
My mind was a wild race of thoughts, a mess of fractured memories.
And it kept ticking back to the past – to the Max who’d cursed me with his carved-up palm.
I ran my fingers through the keys once more.
A part of my mind told me I should be happy – Fagan was dead, the heart murders were solved, and I’d saved myself.
But the questions remained. They mounted over me, climbing my body with oppressive weight like those metal boxes from that magical grenade.
I brought up a hand and rested it lightly on my throat.
This wasn’t the end. It was just a rather protracted beginning. I still didn’t know who the Lonely King was, yet I doubted he’d give up. Fagan had called him the kingpin of Bane City, and that kingpin would be back.
Heck, I still hadn’t even figured out why Fagan had been murdering at 7:07 on the dot, every day.
There were just so many frigging questions.
With the keys in my hand, I slapped my palm against my face, the keys banging against my nose and cheeks.
The Lonely King was one thing – a frigging awful, devastating thing. Max was another.
I could write a book with the questions I had about him. How had he known Dimitri, and how had Dimitri helped him out?
And, most importantly, what the hell was he?
When Max had told me that Mary McLane had sinned in the past and been cursed for that sin, he’d failed to mention that he – or someone who looked identical to him – had done the cursing.
And hey, while I was on the topic – what the heck was I? Max had told me that my powers as a seer wouldn’t be the same as my grandma’s. As I grew, I would develop abilities unique to me. Was traveling to the past one of those? Because that vision of Max the Highlander had been way more than a dream – I’d been there, interacting with him. I also hadn’t been transported into the mind of Mary McLane – I’d been in my own body and my own torn jeans.
I pulled the keys off my face and stared at them. The lights above were strong, and they made each key glimmer.
One last time, I let my fingers shift through them.
Then?
I moved.
I pushed up from the couch and walked out of the room.
There were too many questions, so it was time to find some answers.
The end of A Lying Witch Book Two. A Lying Witch Book Three is currently available.
If you liked this book, you may also like other urban fantasies by Odette C. Bell. For a full list of books, please visit www.odettecbell.com.
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