Chapter 12 #3
Jena chewed her lip. “I was pretty messed up, but there wasn’t anyone else but us and Chase out there. The dragon’s a lump of stone, so read into that however you want to.”
“You know I’m a lawyer, right?” Ophelia snorted. “You totally didn’t answer the question, but props for dancing around it.”
Jena glanced at her but didn’t say anything. Nice to know she was capable of keeping her mouth shut when it suited her. Something crashed out in the swamp, far too close for comfort. They both froze for a split second before picking up the pace.
Whatever was out there definitely knew they were there, and it was heading their way.
They hurried down the path, Jena’s arm still looped through hers. Branches broke behind them, and that harrumphing got louder, thrumming through the ground beneath them. The little witch began panting, her hand at the side of her abdomen again.
“Are we still going the right way?” Ophelia asked.
Jena nodded. “Yeah, and I think I see something up ahead.”
She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make Ophelia feel any better. A dilapidated stone cottage listed amongst the stunted trees, its roof covered with moss and vines.
“There’s definitely a witch in there,” Ophelia huffed.
Jena choked out a laugh. “God, I hope so, and if there’s not, there’s gonna be.”
The front door hung open, but it was surprisingly sturdy, the thick oaken beams banded by iron.
Ophelia shouldered it open the rest of the way, and the two of them fell inside, then slammed it behind them.
She dropped a bar through two heavy brackets on either side, and they put their backs to it, panting.
The cottage was one big open room. Heavy wood beams crossed the ceiling above them, and the floor was made up of wide, filthy wood planks scattered with leaves and rotting detritus.
A bunch of unidentifiable crap was in one corner, and what could’ve been a bed was disintegrating in the other.
Directly across from them, a partially collapsed stone hearth stood.
The only two windows were on either side of the door behind them.
“Fan-fucking-tastic. We’re trapped,” Ophelia spat as the floor vibrated with whatever was thumping toward them. The harrumph came again and the building shook.
“No.” Jena shook her head. She licked her lips. “We’re not trapped.”
Ophelia exhaled, steeling herself to look out the grimy window. “I don’t know what else you’d call it.”
“Um, how about a secure place to regroup?”
Ophelia rolled her eyes, and the window beside her shattered in a cloud of glass as she turned toward it.
She screamed, throwing her hands over her head, whatever had come through hitting the remains of the bed and dragging it across the room.
She peeked through her blood-speckled fingers at the long gooey rope dripping slime across the floorboards.
It smoked where it landed, a horrific stench filling the air.
Jena looked out the other window and gasped, then crouched down at Ophelia’s side. “It’s a frog.”
She laughed. “What?”
“A frog.” The witch nodded at Ophelia’s incredulity, her eyes wide. “But it’s like the size of a VW bus with horns and a lot of teeth.”
Ophelia laughed again. A frog. What in the ever-loving fuck had her life come to—
She dove to the side, taking Jena with her as the bed careened toward them and slammed against the wall. The cottage shuddered, and the second window above them blew out, peppering them with glass. The frog’s tongue hit the far wall. It caught on a moldering sheet, dragging it away.
“Isn’t this supposed to be doing something right about now?” Ophelia snarled, yanking on the chain around her neck.
Jena scowled back, wiping blood from her brow. “It’s an ill-intent charm, not a no-bodily-harm charm. It won’t work if that thing’s just hungry. It’s just a big dumb animal.”
The sheet at the end of the frog’s tongue ignited, and the floor beneath it smoldered, leaves and the remains of the cottage’s contents going up like straw.
Ophelia put her back to the door. “You sure about that?”
Jena didn’t answer, squinting at the far wall. “Come on, I think there’s a mirror over there.”
“So? Pretty sure I don’t wanna see how I look while I burn to death.” Fire would absolutely kill her, but it was definitely not the death she’d have chosen.
“Not that kind, you idiot. There’s symbols on the frame. If I’m right, that’s our way out, and if that thing hits it, we’re screwed.” She glanced at the compass and then darted around the flames and disappeared into the mirrored surface.
“Jesus fucking—” Ophelia winced at the lance of pain through her head and staggered to her feet, the room already thick with smoke.
Flames glinted off the shards of glass littering the floor.
She shuddered, way too familiar with what that stuff could do to flesh.
Damn it, her feet were gonna be shredded, but wherever it led had to be better than down a demonic frog’s gullet.
Ophelia sprinted around the rapidly growing conflagration, agony slicing through her feet.
She cried out and stumbled, a shard spearing through her foot, and fell head-first into the mirror.