Blood Kissed (Lizzie Grace 1)

As I’ll ever be. Her mental tone was flat, but I could feel both her fear and determination. If I don’t survive this… it has been an honor to be both your friend and your familiar. May the next life grant us a continuation of both.

Tears stung my eyes and I silently—but fiercely—hugged her. She wasn’t just my friend and familiar, she was my soul sister, and the only reason I was standing here today. The thought of losing her—of going on without her—tore me apart. It simply wasn’t possible.

After several seconds, she gently pulled away and motioned me to go on. I brushed the tears from my eyes and did so.

The golden light grew brighter, but there was darkness in this place now, a darkness that had nothing to do with the night. It wasn’t just coming from the man who waited for us up ahead, but also from the spells he’d woven around the clearing. Those threads were thick and ugly, and clung with tiny tendrils to the trees that lined the clearing, as if unable to support their own weight.

Holy fuck, dark doesn’t even begin to describe the feel of that stuff, Belle said. If I didn’t know better, I’d think hell itself had been exhumed.

I once read that the more blood used in spellwork, the deeper the connection to hell. It is, after all, what awaits them on death. I stopped just short of the spell threads and scanned the clearing. I couldn’t immediately see either Waverley or Aiden, which suggested they were standing on the other side of the huge bonfire burning in the center of the clearing. Are you sensing anyone else in the immediate vicinity?

No. She paused. Aiden’s in a whole world of pain. He’s barely conscious.

At least he was still alive. I’d half expected it to be otherwise. Of course, just because he was alive didn’t mean he would remain that way for long.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” I pressed the button on Blume’s watch to start recording, saw Belle do the same with the phone, and then as one we strode forward.

Straight into the heart of Waverley’s magic.

Straight into his trap.

Chapter Thirteen

We might have done everything we could to brace ourselves against his magic, might have done everything we could to counter his spells, but there was no way we could ever have understood or appreciated the sheer depths of depravity and power of it. Not until we’d stepped into it.

It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—a living thing that tore at every part of me. It was hundreds of needle-sharp claws ripping into my skin and burrowing into my body. Pinpricks of blood began to dot my skin and stain my clothes as the invading threads dug deeper and deeper, as if trying to reach the very heart of me.

Fear surged, overwhelming the pain as realization hit. This spell wasn’t trying to kill me. It was attempting to do something far worse.

It was trying to tear my magic away from my soul.

A single wave of power broke away from the force that resided within me and washed through the layers of my being. It wrapped around each of those tiny claws and stilled them in an instant. Then—slowly, and almost lovingly—it crushed them, until there was nothing left but the ashes of ill intent.

While Waverley’s magic might have failed in its ultimate task, the remaining threads of it still spun all around me. It was a foul and suppressive weight that had my body trembling and my knees buckling under its force. I somehow managed to lock them and remain upright, but between the wild magic within me and the dark threads pressing down on me, I wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to be the case.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and tried a simple healing incantation—one of the very first spells taught in witch schools. Nothing happened. My magic was still within me—I could feel it stirring, trying to respond—but a barrier had now been placed between us.

I swore and swiped at the sweat dribbling down the side of my face. The claws might have been contained, but it still felt as if a thousand tiny ants were biting at my skin. Only this time it wasn’t the blood magic but rather the wild. It wanted out.

Desperately.

A sharp hiss had my head snapping sideways. The glamour was still in place, but Belle’s fists were clenched and her thoughts were ablaze with pain.

I wanted to reach out, to offer both comfort and strength, but I didn’t have enough of the latter and I certainly didn’t dare touch her. The glamour might be holding against whatever exclusions Waverly had woven into his spells, but something as simple as a light touch might just shatter it.

I’m okay. Her gaze met mine; determination and fury gleamed in the silver depths. We can beat this bastard. He may be magically stronger than us, but he’s also overconfident. That will be his downfall.

You’re reading him?

In bits and bobs. Not enough to attempt any sort of mental control.

Damn. And your magic?

Unhampered. But I didn’t throw up a mental wall fast enough, and got caught in the backwash that was hitting you.

Fuck, I didn’t even think to—

Like you had the time. But you were right—my magic alone will not counter his.