Chapter 42
Fucking Witches
“El mecca day want de sorva, el mecca day want de sorva,” female voices chanted.
Instead of rushing to help, I was frozen to the spot.
The chanting crawled from the darkest places in my brain like a ghoulish stain.
Ghosts revisiting. I was in shock. I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t speak. I couldn’t decipher if this was real or another nightmare roaring to life.
Why would witches be in Karson’s house? As if the vampires would let them past the gates.
I’ve gone to bed, fallen asleep and this was a fucked-up nightmare. It must be.
In the distance, a cry speared through the chanting, gurgled and choking.
Karson.
A far greater fear yanked my legs forward.
The door slammed back against the wall as I reefed it open.
Everything happened all at once and so fast, and yet I somehow registered each horror as if it was in slow motion.
The chanting became a deafening roar. The whole foyer was a cloud of red as if the sky itself had fallen and was bleeding.
A terrible, coppery scent and something else pungent coiled up my nose, scorching down my already burning throat.
My hand jerked up to block my nose and mouth, my eyes stinging and beginning to water.
I squinted through the blurry haze, trying to make out what was happening.
The first shape I made out was Eric. He was in the middle of the foyer, flat on his stomach, his claws dug into the floorboards as he dragged his body slowly forward, trying to escape the dust. His face was stained red, his mouth open in an O shape as if he’d tried to scream and failed.
Blood ran from his eyes like crimson streams.
I blinked furiously, wildly scanning for Karson. Buried within the dust, I could make out eight shadowy shapes. They were spread out in a wide arc just inside the closed door, chanting. Then they stepped forward like brides of horror.
Karson was on his knees, staring aghast at something I couldn’t see. “No, no, no,” he cried, terror and anguish riddling his voice.
“Karson!” I screamed.
“Amelia, get back!” he roared, his voice wild with panic as he stumbled to his feet.
I took an abrupt step back as his silhouette staggered between me and the witches.
His face was twisted in pain, his legs shaking violently.
I didn’t have time to cry out, even if I could have risked the breath, before he dropped to his knees again, his eyes squeezed shut.
Monique, Michael, and Kenneth rushed into the room, ready to fight. Their faces crumpled in agony, stopping as if they had slammed into a wall.
Monique clutched at her head and screamed as she collapsed to her knees.
Michael looked at her wildly, desperate to go to her, but his legs folded, and his attention turned upwards, holding his arms up like he was fending off an invisible predator.
Monique kept screaming, and then her nose—blood gushed from it, pouring over her lips and cheeks. Her head jerked to the side as if someone had slammed into her, and her mouth opened, blood and a bit of tooth flying across the floor. She turned and crawled away, crying and sobbing.
And then—
I saw her dress rip, and flesh parted in her back, a cut so deep I could see bone as dark blood poured out. She collapsed to the floor. “No, please, no,” she sobbed, desperately trying to crawl away.
Kenneth’s whole body stiffened as he arched back, his arms flailing wildly.
Then he slapped onto his back, his eyes wide, unmoving—he just stared at nothing as if nothing was something.
He grunted. His stomach—his stomach parted as if an invisible blade was being dragged through his gut.
His intestines spilled out like wet serpents.
Bile rushed to my mouth, and I had to choke it back.
Two witches held their hands in front of their mouths and blew. Clouds of thick red exploded through the room, coating everything.
Karson roared in fury as he dragged up one knee, but when he tried to stand, his leg gave out. And his shirt was dissolving, being eaten away before my eyes.
And his flesh—oh God.
His flesh blistered and bubbled as if he was being burned by flames.
If I used my power, I could throw the witches, but he was between me and them and I’d throw him straight into them.
“Karson, get down!” I cried, the sound muffled under my arm.
Karson dropped flat to the floor. His back was a mess of angry red blisters peeling away at his skin, his flesh, his muscle.
The sight of it horrified me. I whined in the back of my throat as I threw up my palms, holding them high so I didn’t hit Karson or the others.
My powers roared with a rush of wind. A cloud of red streaked backwards, slamming into the door and rebounding back.
Fuck.
The chanting increased. Through the blood-stained haze, a witch in the front drew into focus.
I recognized her; she was the witch I’d seen in the bar.
The girl with long dark hair, pale skin, and brown eyes, but tonight her eyes were opaque blue, seeing nothing of this world, conjuring things that lurked in the murky depths of hell.
She clutched a knife in her hand.
“Eric,” Kenneth cried. His arms by his side, his stomach still gushing blood, he tried to crawl to his friend, his hand shaking as he reached out, but he was helpless to move.
Eric’s skin began to blacken as if he was rotting, and the rot was spreading fast. He gagged, clutching at his neck, black foaming from his mouth.
Karson’s body trembled wildly as he pushed up onto his hands and knees.
The flesh on his back was eaten to the bone.
But the pain, or their words, or whatever was in the powder, held him down, and he couldn’t stand.
Panic and terror overwhelmed me. I wanted to run to him, to drag him out, but if I stepped into the dust I’d drop too.
“Where is he?” the dark-haired witch shrieked as she stalked closer, her knuckles white where they clutched the blade’s handle. If she got to him, she’d stab him.
My lungs began to scream for air. I gritted my teeth and urged my power against the doors. A sharp pain struck my head as my powers surged. The doors rattled, then exploded open. Red streaked outside and the mist thinned.
My eyes tore back to Karson, and stars dotted in front of my vision. The witch raised the knife. He flattened to the floor in what could have been a show of fear but wasn’t. It was a strategic move.
Pain shot like a knife’s blade in my head as I redirected the surge of power. The witch flew across the room.
Crack!
She cried out, a high-pitched sound, as her body hit the wall, and her arm snapped like a twig. The knife clattered to the floor.
My lungs were going to burst. I didn’t want to breathe, but my body instinctively sucked at the air.
It was like gulping down thick smoke. My powers waned as my windpipe closed over.
Coughing and spluttering, I staggered, slamming into the doorframe, desperately wheezing in breaths.
My head thumped with a raw, ugly pain, sweat running down my back as my muscles shook violently.
I could feel my power draining like water seeping from a well.
Two witches on either side of the room blew more powder in.
We were looking all kinds of fucked.
It formed a giant cloud directly above Karson. His back was nothing but a pulsing mash of bubbling flesh.
He was burning and burning and burning.
He didn’t scream. I didn’t know how he didn’t scream, except maybe his throat was choked over, like Eric’s.
My eyes shot to him. Eric lay completely still, face down on the floor. Was he dead?
No, no, no.
I screamed, in part in fear, in part because brutal pain stabbed my head. Terror sparked my power to life once again. Red blew out into the night.
One of the witches stopped chanting and pointed a finger at me. Pain shot through my chest like a bolt of lightning. I gasped as my powers died suddenly, and I collapsed to my knees.
“Traitor.” Her lips curled in disgust. “Vampire’s whore.”
Karson’s growl rumbled through the room. “I’m going to kill you.”
I wanted to get up, I screamed at my body to move, but I couldn’t.
My head spun wildly, black crowding the edges of my vision.
I swung my head to the kitchen, gasping at fresh air.
My whole body shook as I looked back. The dark-haired witch’s eyes were brown again as she staggered to her feet.
She scrambled for the knife, collecting it with her left hand. “Where is he?” she shouted.
Karson squinted up through the haze. “You’re going to have to be more specific, love,” he said casually, like he wasn’t in terrible pain, like he wasn’t about to die.
“Give him back and all this will stop!” one of the witches shouted as she threw more red powder into the air.
Michael cried out afresh. Monique was on her side, curled in the fetal position, covered in blood, whimpering. Kenneth was still flat on his back, his gaze never leaving her face as he whispered to her, “It’s alright, it’s alright.”
Karson’s eyes flicked to his friends, and seeing them down sparked a fury inside. Fire blazed the rings of his eyes, red as the depths of hell.
He jerked back to the witches and snarled, “You are all going to die very slowly and very painfully.”
“No, Karson, we have control, and you will all die very slowly and very painfully, unless you give him back.” The witch raised the knife, her broken arm pressed by her side.
No!
I tried to call my powers, but it was like trying to grasp jelly.
I clutched at the door and pulled myself to my feet.
The room spun wildly; I blinked, trying to clear my vision.
Horror ripped through me as a silver blade glinted and slammed down.
Karson’s body jerked as the blade drove into his back.
He grunted and collapsed to the floor. Was that a bone-ash knife?