Chapter 77
I Killed Her
The rush of red-hot horror firing through me disabled everything. I forgot about the grimoire. I forgot about Karson. All I could see was my friend dying before my eyes.
The knife clattered to the floor as she let it go, her eyes wide in alarm; the mind control he used had broken. Georgie staggered, her hand pressed against her neck, trying to stop an impossible red tide.
The wind gushed into the room. Josh must have yanked the door open and taken off into the night.
Georgie stumbled until her back met plaster, her legs wilting like a dying flower as she slid down the wall.
“No!” I screamed, my feet pounding as I ran to her side. “No, no!”
I collapsed to my knees, pressed my hand to the warm, wet wound and chanted, “Elmorsa repaires elmorsa repaires.” Blood streaked through my fingers like a shredded flag.
It didn’t ease, didn’t slow down. Healing powers were not my strength, and even if they were, Georgie wasn’t a witch.
She didn’t heal as easily as witches did. I kept chanting, kept trying.
I needed … Karson … but I’d stabbed him and he couldn’t help.
I’ve killed you, I thought. No!
This was another nightmare. All of it. The world couldn’t possibly be so cruel. Georgie was in bed watching a movie, probably one-quarter drunk, and I was asleep in bed. Everything that happened was just a terrible dream.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
“Amy,” she rasped, breaking my chant, her blue eyes wide with terror and sorrow. Her blood, terribly warm on my hand pressed tight to her neck, didn’t allow the delusion to persist.
My heart split in half.
“You’re going to be alright,” I said, like an order, a prayer.
“He made me do it.” She coughed weakly, red spluttering from the corner of her lips, leaking into the side of her jaw, down to her neck like the devil’s garnets. Her eyes pleaded with me to believe her. “He made me.”
He’d used her as a distraction to get away. I thought he cared about her. All this time, he was using her for his own gain. My eyes fell to the bloody blade. It was the same type as the girl in the bar had used, the one used to murder Mary.
My heart constricted so tight I couldn’t draw air. Josh was always lurking around, silent as a spirit. He would have heard our conversations, known when I left the house.
A throat for a throat.
I merely took advantage of the situation. I knew anything that happened would be blamed on her, his words echoed painfully through my head.
My other hand swept through her hair. “I know, I know,” I murmured. If I could carry her to Karson, he could feed her his blood, it was powerful. Billy’s toe had healed, maybe she would heal too, at least enough to slow the bleeding.
No, his blood would be infected now.
A sob tore out of my throat. I’d stabbed Karson and murdered my friend. I kept chanting. Heal, I begged, heal.
“Amy,” she croaked, “stop.” She sucked in a breath, tears slipping down her cheeks.
I stopped chanting, her words crashing inside my chest like someone had taken a mallet to my heart, the last thread of hope smashed beneath the terrible knowing.
“Take care of Jodie and BJ.” Her voice cracked, wet and gurgled. The color drained from her face before my eyes, her hand shaking wildly as she lifted it and pressed it against my cheek. “They’ll need you.”
I clutched her hand in mine, held it there, soaking in the warmth of her fingers. The warmth of her life. The metallic scent of blood filled my nose. I never wanted to let her go. Tears slid uncontrollably down my face.
She knew she was dying, knew she had moments left. There was no point in lying to her. She was a nurse, she knew what a catastrophic wound this was.
Her breathing was thin, ragged, as she wheezed for air.
My lips trembled as I pressed them to her forehead. “I will. I will. I promise.”
She squeezed my hand. “I love you.” Her voice was soft, wet, a worded breath under water.
“I love you too.” I was sobbing now, heaving in breaths. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for. Thank you for choosing to share your life with me.”
Georgie tried to smile, but her eyes flared with panic as she gasped at air. She coughed blood; it coated her mouth now. A whine tumbled from my lips.
She gasped again, a death rattle from her bloody lips. “Amy,” she whispered, her voice raw and ragged, a terrible plea to help, to do something, anything.
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” I whispered, my voice cracking, my fingers shaking against the wound, my other hand stroking her soft face.
I whispered, “I love you, I love you.”
“I love—”
Her breath stuttered and her hand went limp in mine. She stared at me, panic giving way to a dazed look. I watched, pain roaring through me as the life drained from her beautiful blue eyes.
“No, no, no!” I screamed, pulling her to me, tucking her to my chest. Her blood was wet and warm on my body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“What did you do?” A furious voice sounded somewhere amongst my screams. I felt a burst of ice-cold wind on my back. Hands reefed Georgie from my arms so violently I toppled, my hands splaying, my knees hitting hard against the floor.
Georgie was placed flat on her back, her arms spread out, her dark-brown hair floating across the floorboards. She looked like an angel.
Rodney was on his knees beside her, his eyes wild with panic. He cursed.
I was vaguely aware of Michael and Monique standing behind him. Michael’s face paled; his mouth opened but no sound came out.
Monique closed her eyes, tilted her head, and began to pray silently.
I crawled to Georgie, my vision of her soaked in tears. Strong hands lifted me up and pressed me to them. I beat against Michael’s chest with closed fists. “Let me go, let me go!” I had to be the one to hold her, to be with her as she left this earth, not him.
The sound of crunching hit my ears as his fangs sank into her neck.
The noise calmed me, a wild hope lurching in my chest. Maybe he could bring her back. Georgie remained limp.
“Feed her your blood,” I rasped.
Michael gently held me by my arms, his eyes filling with tears as said gently, “There is nothing more powerful than a bite, not even Karson’s blood. If she has any chance at all, biting her is the only way.”
Which would mean, if it worked she’d turn …
We couldn’t do anything but stare and wait.
The world stilled, as if it was staring at Georgie with a held breath. She wasn’t moving, didn’t stir. Her lips were open in her last gasp for air. Her eyes were still and vacant.
“Please, Georgie,” I whispered. “Please.”
But no amount of pleading could bring her back. It was too late.
Georgie was dead.
Georgie, the girl who took me under her wing. My friend—no, more than a friend, more of a sister than my own sister was. Georgie, who made the room light up with her laughter, was gone.
“Bite her again.” Monique sounded frantic.
Rodney bowed his head, his voice coming out sad and husky. “There’s no point.”
“Bite her again!” Monique shouted.
Rodney picked her up out of the pool of blood she lay in and carried her across the room, his footsteps slow and heavy.
He laid her gently down on the stage, her blood-clumped hair sticking to her face and wound.
He brushed her hair back with the tenderness of a lover.
“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured. “Of all the people on this earth, you deserved better.”
He stepped back.
Georgie was dead.
Monique was crying silently.
My ravaged cry shattered the quiet of the room. My knees buckled, Michael’s hands on my arms the only thing stopping me from collapsing.
Rodney turned back slowly, anger curdling in his eyes. “What did you do?”
My blood ran cold. He’d seen the people in my life, the ones I loved, fleeting moments captured, when he’d invaded my head. He should know who I was.
Michael released my arms and moved beside me. “She wouldn’t have done this, Rodney.” But both he and Monique were staring at me as if—
As if they thought events repeated themselves. As if a part of them thought I did.
“You think I did this? You think I would hurt her. You’ve seen inside my head,” I spat. “Am I capable of hurting her?”
Rodney’s face flickered—was that guilt I saw? I thought he’d back off, but instead he ground his teeth. “I heard you apologizing. What. Did. You. Do?”
He vibrated with rage. It was too much for me to take; my whole world had just shattered. I didn’t care if he was angry, or upset, or deadly. “Fuck you, you piece of shit.”
“Rodney,” Michael edged toward him. “I would advise you to reconsider whatever it is you’re—”
Georgie gasped. Her hand flew to her throat.
Rodney swung back, removing her hand and inspecting the wound on her neck—
It was weaving together, the flesh closing over as if an invisible hand was stitching it.
He let out a breath of relief and sank to his knees, clutching hold of her hand.
Georgie stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Georgie,” I cried and went to run to her, but Michael snatched hold of my arm, stopping me.
“No, she will crave blood. It will be far too much for her to have you so close right now.”
Georgie turned her head to look at me, her eyes dazed and confused. And her eyes—
Her eyes were dark.
“Amy,” she whispered, her voice sounding sweet like music. But her fingers curled into fists. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed heavily. “It hurts, the light hurts.” She sounded panicked.
“I know,” Rodney said gently. “Your whole body is about to hurt. But it will pass.”
Her eyes flicked open again, homing in on me, black as oily, hungry pits. What she said next broke my already crushed heart. “Amy. You need to run.”
“I will get what she needs.” Monique disappeared in a flash.
Rodney placed a hand on Georgie’s shoulder and spoke to her in soothing tones.
“Please, go.” Georgie sounded pained as she pleaded with me, her blood-stained hands twisting on the fabric of her top. “I can’t, I can’t.”
I nodded, tears still falling down my face as I stepped back. She was here, alive, but she’d never be the same.
She jerked into a seated position, clenching her hands over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut as she rocked back and forth. “It’s so loud, it’s so loud.” Fear tinged her whisper. “I can hear the air breathing.”
“Josh has the grimoire,” I told Michael as I backed away, my gaze locked on the girl I loved, who could rise to her feet and try to tear my throat out at any moment.
Michael’s head whipped around to look at me. “Josh?”
“Yes and he …” My voice broke off on a swell of emotion as I kept backing away. “He killed Mary.”
He blinked slowly. “Mary. How can that be?” When I didn’t respond, he closed his eyes against the cruel, twisted pain of betrayal.
“Take care of her,” I said, looking at my distraught friend. She was still rocking, her skin pale and bathed in sweat.
I turned and walked out. The frigid darkness wrapped around me, slithering against my body like a cloak, like a shelter.
I felt the presence behind me. My hand slipped to the blade sheathed at my side.
I twisted my head over my shoulder to see Michael standing at the door, watching me leave.
I blinked back tears, lifted my chin, and said flatly, “Karson is upstairs, I stabbed him.”
Behind Michael, I swear I saw Mary’s ghost standing, and she was crying.