The Impaled Bride (Vampire Bride 3)

I am unnerved by the sense that I have faced this foe before. I approach the spot where the circle of witches should be gathered as the mist continues to retreat before me. The bursts of magic have vanished, and the spell that Ágota had been forming has dissipated. The air is strangely stale and empty, reminding me of a grave. I reach out and summon forth a spark of flame to illuminate my path. The light only bathes my hands and wrists, leaving all else around me black as tar.

All this feels reminiscent of something I experienced once before, but cannot quite remember. Is this a foe my mother once vanquished?

I nearly stumble across Balázs in the dark and crouch to touch his face. I feel his breath on my palm, but he does not stir at my urging. All the witches are prone on the ground, their bodies still forming the circle. Though their powers are rapidly diminishing, the protection circle still holds. I press my hand against the ward. The protective shield resists at first before recognizing me as a member of the coven and allows me to enter.

Bending low to the ground, I hold out my palm, the tiny flame barely pressing back the ominous darkness. I find Henrietta first wrapped in a coil of mist. Gasping for breath, her eyes struggle to remain open against a force greater than her. My touch sends the mist spiraling upward.

Eyes fluttering, Henrietta whispers, “It has come to consume us.”

“What is it, Henrietta? Tell me!”

“A destroyer,” she answers.

“No!” I gasp.

Above me, a terrible creature issues a ragged howl of anguish. Rising, I observe what I could not before. A massive creature with many limbs and eyes—yet retaining the shape of a human—stands over me, clutching Ágota its claws.

A destroyer of the Witch World has come through the gateway.

Chapter 23

The destroyers of the Witch World consume all magic and life. They are creatures of destruction and death.

As am I.

In some ways, we are equal foes.

Perhaps that is why the destroyer does not attack straight away, but also why it does not cower. This strange turn of events confounds me. I detect my opponent’s magic scrutinizing me, evaluating me as a foe. The dark haze around it reaches toward me, then instantaneously retracts. It is an uneasy gesture which reveals that it fears me. Confidence swells in my chest, for it occurs to me that I must have an advantage the coven lacks for the destroyer to be so wary of my presence.

But what could that advantage possibly be?

Any dread I felt when I first observed

my sister in the clutches of the destroyer drains from my veins as rage flows through me, removing all doubts and fears. Although I am uncertain how I will defeat the destroyer, I shall. I am the Battlewitch. It is my nature to defend the coven, so I must trust my instincts to guide me to victory.

I failed my sister by standing aside and not participating in the ritual. When she opened the ley line between the estate and Gratz, there must have been a remnant of the portal that we had opened to the Witch World when we had called forth the estate. A pinprick in the Veil would have been enough to allow the destroyer to tear through the fabric between the two worlds. If I had stood at my sister’s side perhaps I would have been able to sense the impending danger and prevent her from completing the ritual. Though I am the Battlewitch, Ágota is the Archwitch and the strongest of us. If only I could awaken her so we could combine our power. Perhaps together we could defeat this destroyer. We are always stronger when unified.

“Ágota! Wake up and help me fight!”

My sister is unmoving, lost to the world, and I growl with frustration. I have defended my sister’s life in the past, but this foe is greater than any I have faced before.

“Run, Erzsébet, before you are destroyed,” Henrietta whispers out of the dark in a pained and weakened voice.

“I cannot abandon my coven and my sister.”

The blackness of the night is all-consuming, obliterating all the stars and the moon. The air is frigid and hard to breathe. The destroyer’s power taints the world around us, yet the fearsome monster does not approach me, nor does it retreat. We are at a stalemate. All the while, the destroyer is draining the magic from the coven, its spectral tentacles writhing as it feeds. The moans of the witches assail my ears, a distraction I do not need. I call upon the coldness within my soul that strengthens me for battle and allows me to kill without remorse. To defend the coven, I must be immune to their pleas for help.

The protective circle collapses in a bright flash of light. The destroyer howls, shirking away as though in pain. Its rapid, erratic retreat jangles my sister in its grasp. My beloved older sister looks small and pale in its inky tentacle. The loathsome monster towers over me, a creature of darkness and evil. I sense its desire to consume the world it has invaded and all within it. I will not allow Ágota to die.

Again, I am struck at the familiarity of the situation. Why do I feel as though I have faced this foe before?

And then I remember.

Long ago, during our journey to Hungary to be reunited with Ágota’s father, we had been felled in a forest when the ley line upon which we were traveling abruptly disappeared. Ágota had been immediately subjugated by an ominous presence that dwelled in the woods, leaving me to defend us. Yet, it did not attack me. Instead, it had lingered in the darkness of the forest, watching as I struggled to waken my sister. It had fallen to me to rescue Ágota from the unknown presence that I was certain wished to do us harm. I recall vividly how dead and silent the world had seemed as I had stashed my sister in our mother's magical bag and carried her through the forest. I was watched, perhaps hunted, but not attacked. Though I had sensed its desire to harm us, the presence in the woods had never acted against me.

I understand now that the destroyer had been caught between the two worlds. Like a butterfly caught in a net, it’d strained to free itself but failed. The woods had felt so devoid of life because the destroyer had been desperately and gradually consuming the ley line, barely surviving. Of course, no animals would dare enter such a blighted area of the woods. How it must have wanted to consume Ágota and me, but just as the destroyer had not dared attack me that day long ago, it refrains once again.

“You fear me!” I step toward the gruesome being and it retreats before me. “Though you can devour all the other witches, you cannot touch me. I am different, but why?”