Chapter 12 #5
I didn’t stop, didn’t cast another spell.
I just kept running toward Ginny, my gaze on the magic and the creature forming life above her.
I couldn’t physically stop the spell, given it was obviously being cast from the other end of the house and I needed to see its threads to have any hope of voiding or subverting it, but if I could break the alignment of the stones, it should be enough to at least corrupt the spell.
Many witches, light or dark, anchored their spells to stones as a secondary means of protection to ensure if things did go wrong—if someone, either accidentally or on purpose, moved a stone out of alignment—the spell would shatter rather than escape and cause god only knew what harm.
Magic flared behind me again. I had no idea what the spell was and no intention of stopping. I couldn’t. The claws had almost fully formed; any minute now, they would slash down and gut Ginny.
The back of my spine prickled with the awareness of approaching danger.
The big man had cast his spell, and whatever the fuck it was, it was closing in fast. I threw myself forward and down, hitting the polished floor with a pain-filled grunt and sliding forward several feet.
The magic skimmed over the top of my head, though it wasn’t a spell, as such, but a thread-wrapped blade similar to the ones I carried.
It hit the shield protecting the spell stones and slid away to the right before being reeled back in by its creator.
I had seconds, if that, to stop the demon.
But the slide had brought me within arm’s reach of the spell stones.
I swept the knife at the nearest one, the blade flaring brightly as it cut through the protective magic and hit the stone with an oddly resounding thunk, knocking it out of alignment.
It was enough to tear the spell apart and shred the still-forming demon.
As its scream echoed, I twisted around and saw the big man throw his knife.
I flung up a hand, a hastily created shield flaring from my fingertips.
It was never going to be strong enough to stop it, but it did at least slow its force.
I rolled from under its trajectory, clambered half upright, and threw my own knife.
He laughed and dodged, but as the knife flew past him, I jerked on the leash, spun the blade around, then drove it deep into the back of his right thigh.
As he howled, I twisted it sideways and swept it to the right, severing the muscles and nerves in his leg.
Then I leashed it in place, ensuring he couldn’t easily remove it, and released my hold on it.
He lunged at me, but his leg collapsed underneath him, and he went down hard.
Fragments of the magic that had followed his movements fell all around him like rain, and rather oddly, he seemed to be deflating with them.
I had no time—and no desire—to figure out why.
I quickly created another leash spell and wrapped it around his body, pressing his arms close to his sides, then repeated the process with his legs.
With the silver blade lodged in his flesh, he wouldn’t be able to cast any sort of spell, but the last thing I wanted was him up and physically rampaging.
Once he was secured, I twisted around and scrambled toward Ginny.
She was pale and shivering, and she was gagged with what looked like a damn T-shirt.
The wire binding her wrists and ankles was thin and tight, but it was the thick streaks of red climbing up her forearms and her legs that worried me, because it meant the wire was at least silver coated.
They’d known what she was and had been ready for her.
It also meant that my magic wouldn’t work, nor would my other knife, as silver was a relatively soft metal, and I had no idea if it would be able to cut through wire.
I’d have to release her the old-fashioned way, and I had to hurry, because the magic coming from the other end of the house was now so fierce the hairs on my arms were standing on end.
A battle royale was happening, and I desperately wanted to go down there and help.
Even if I was the weakest witch here.
I found the ends of the wire binding her ankles, hurriedly untwisted them, and then unwrapped the wire from her flesh.
Her skin was raw and swollen underneath it, but it hadn’t broken her skin, which at least meant the poisoning wouldn’t yet be in her blood.
I threw the wire away, then repeated the process for her wrists before finally taking the gag off and helping her sit up.
“Luke and another two men are here,” she gasped. “I have no idea where Monica is. We need to track—”
“I need to track her. You need to be still until help gets here, or you’ll make the silver poisoning worse.
” I dug a bottle of holy water out of my handbag and handed it to her.
While it was generally used against demons, a witch working in some werewolf reservation down in Victoria had discovered it helped heal magic or demon-based wounds.
The Society hadn’t gone as far as recommending we carry a bottle, but maybe after today, I would be.
“You can’t tackle all of them alone—”
“I’m not. René and Atticus are both here, but I need to go help them.” I paused. “Was Lanie here at all?”
“Yes, but no guarantee she still is. There were some pretty serious arguments happening down the other end of the house.” Ginny uncorked the bottle and carefully poured the holy water onto the welts. Her skin sizzled softly, and she hissed.
“Do you know what the argument was about?” I took off my coat. It wouldn’t be as long on her as it was on me, but it would cover the vital bits.
“Their next steps, from what I can gather. Luke did not agree with whatever Lanie was planning.” She paused. “I got the strangest feeling that of the two of them, she was the one in charge.”
“She certainly implied that in the conversation we were given.”
“Yeah, but this was different. Her whole manner seemed to change.”
From the other end of the house came a low-grade growl and a deeper surge of magic. Atticus had entered the fray.
I needed to get down there—now. “You going to be okay for a few minutes?”
She nodded. “I can shift shape if that bastard comes at me.”
“He won’t. He’s well and truly leashed.” I tugged out the earwig and handed it to her. “Call in everyone, including Gerard.”
“I don’t need—”
“Yeah, you fucking do, so stop arguing and do what I ask.”
A smile touched her lips. “I hope René likes bossy women.”
“I think it’s fair to say he loves women in all shapes and forms.”
I touched her shoulder lightly, then thrust to my feet and ran down the thickly shadowed hall, scooping up my bag as I headed to the other end of the house.
Broken threads of magic floated on the air around me, some light, some dark, and some holding absolutely no color at all.
There were also grunts and a low rumbling sound that definitely wasn’t coming from a human throat.
Atticus was pissed at something or someone.