Chapter Eight #3
Elle steps into the room, her shock shifting into something softer. Something that looks suspiciously like concern. “Do you need tea or something? Have you eaten?”
“I’m fine. I promise.” I run a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the bone-deep exhaustion. “A solid night’s sleep and I’ll be good as new.”
Elle worries at her lower lip. “And everything went okay? With the ghost?”
I perch on the edge of the bed to ease the ache in my back. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried about me.” Though I mean for the words to be teasing, there’s a flash of anger in Elle’s eyes alongside the flush creeping up her neck.
“I’m not heartless.” She crosses her arms tight against her chest. “Besides, if something happens to you, we won’t have time to find a replacement witch. Our grand opening is only twenty-seven days away. Twenty-six, really, since today is basically over.”
“Well, I’m glad my well-being is convenient for you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Elle sighs, and her rigid posture deflates. “I’ll let you get some rest. We can talk in the morning.” As she turns to leave, her hip catches the side of the credenza. The lepidolite falls to the floor and rolls out of its protective cloth. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Elle, wait—”
My warning dies in my throat as Elle stoops to collect the crystal, her fingers skimming across the lepidolite’s bare surface. A burst of light flashes between us, near blinding, before the crystal cracks in half and a dangerous cold seeps into the room.
“What the hell?” Elle stumbles toward the bed, away from the shadow that rises from the broken crystal, her back crashing into my chest as I stand. “Is that—”
“Look out!” I shove Elle out of the way as the shadow dives toward us.
The thoroughly pissed-off ghost slams into me, and without any fresh wards in place, it passes through the barrier of my energy.
Anger courses through me, anger that isn’t mine, as the spirit scrambles for purchase.
As it tries to seize command of my body.
I fall to my knees, a feeling so cold it burns as it races through my veins.
The ghost takes control of one hand, squeezing it into a fist, testing my strength.
I fight to shove it back. Fight to get my other hand free from the floor to trace a banishing sigil, but every time I try to raise it, the ghost slams my hand back down.
If I can’t trace the sigil soon, I’m fucked.
“Elle.” Her name scrapes across my throat. “Taser.”
Her green eyes are saucer wide. “What?”
“The…Taser.” Pain lances down my spine, and I arch away from the hurt. It doesn’t help. There’s no escaping the agony taking over my body. A strangled cry escapes my lips. “Electricity,” I grit out. “Destroys…spirits.”
“It’s in you?” she asks. Then: “Wait. I can’t electrocute you!”
“Have to.” Black spots dance across my vision. A gruff laugh echoes in my head, the voice deep and raspy and full of malice. I fight to raise my gaze to hers. “Please. Before it…takes…over.”
Elle backs away from me. “Alex?” She raises her voice. “Alex!”
The moment she turns away to call for Xander again, my consciousness shudders and slips away from the surface.
Then I’m sinking, sinking, sinking into the recesses of my mind.
My body acts without my permission, rising slowly to its feet.
Desire for violence pulses through me. A deeper version of my voice snakes past my lips.
“Too late, girlie.”
My body lunges forward, catching Elle around the waist, drawing her deeper into my room.
She struggles against me, and in my head, I’m screaming.
Begging her to grab the Taser. Begging Xander to hear the commotion.
I’m vaguely aware of my fingers pressing against her lips, holding back her screams. That low chuckle reverberating in my chest. I fight like hell to surface, to regain control of my body.
Elle jams her elbow into my stomach, and the flash of pain loosens my hold. She scrambles away, but instead of escaping out the door, she dashes deeper into the room.
That dark chuckle wheezes out of me again. “Good,” the ghost says with my voice. “I love a challenge.” Heavy footsteps clomp after Elle. Unhurried. Hands flexing into fists. I can feel the spirit’s bloodlust. Can feel all the ways it wants to hurt Elle.
It grabs her hair. Yanks her back.
Elle comes willingly. There’s a flash of silver. The clicking buzz of machinery.
Then electricity tears through me. The ghost and I scream in unison, the pain infiltrating the possession to affect us both. Each tenth of a second stretches for minutes. White-hot agony. The spirit loses control of my body as its essence is torn apart and destroyed by the arcing current.
I fall to my knees when Elle finally removes the Taser from my stomach. The last of the ghost’s influence fades away. I’m vaguely aware of footsteps in the hall. Xander rushing into the room. I glance up at Elle, a strangled thank you passing my lips before my body gives up completely.
Unconsciousness consumes me like a blanket of dark.