by E. Latimer
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DAYNA
There was a snarl, a blur in the air before her. Meiner shouted just as something crashed into Dayna’s left shoulder, slamming her to the ground. Air left her lungs in a rush, and her shoulder burned. A snarling mouth full of broken, jagged teeth filled her vision.
The creature lunged for her throat, teeth snapping, and then pulled back with a growl, shaking its head. Blood splattered from its face, and Dayna saw the bone charm had pierced its muzzle.
The shaking dislodged the charm, and it skittered across the mossy floor. The black dog crouched low to the ground, its blue eyes narrowed.
Human eyes, she had time to think, and then it was springing toward her again, filling her entire vision. A scream ripped from her throat, and then Meiner was there, her white braid swinging behind her as she lashed out at the dog with a booted foot. There was a dull thud and a yelp as the boot connected, and the beast was thrown back, claws scraping the stone floor. It snarled again, hackles raised, its bright, savage eyes fixed on Dayna. Even though Meiner stood between them, it didn’t even look at the white-haired witch.
When Dayna had scrambled back, she’d dropped the book in the doorway, and now the dog moved in front of it. Dayna braced herself, pulse drumming in her ears, breath coming in sharp gasps.
Meiner was mumbling furiously under her breath. Prayers for protection, it sounded like, arms held out before her. Dayna cast around, desperate for something to defend herself with. Her gaze fell on the broken stones of the church floor, and she snatched one up. Pain blazed in her shoulder, but she ignored it, hefting the stone—slate-gray and the size of her palm. The crackling energy of her magic pulsed in her fingers and the rock trembled with it.
When the dog moved again, she released it with a shouted, “Bogadh!” It was a wild, desperate bit of magic, absent of the cupped hands needed to direct it, completely lacking any finesse. It should have been miles off, but somehow the rock glanced off the beast’s face, making it stumble and yelp.
Meiner’s mumbled chanting grew louder, and the dog’s ears went back. It flinched, and for a moment Dayna thought it would turn tail and run.
Instead it growled and slunk closer. She could see it pushing against something, as if Meiner’s prayers were a physical barrier.
Dayna picked up another rock, panic washing over her. There was no way she’d get lucky with another throw like that. Desperately she tried to remember any of the spells she’d heard of, anything that might help them fight this thing. If only Reagan were here; she’d probably memorized a bunch for exactly this sort of situation.
Keeping her eyes fixed on the dog as it inched closer, she muttered a prayer to Danu. Goddess, grant me light. Grant me protection. Grant me power, so mote it be. The dog surged forward, and she reacted instinctively, arm snapping up, crying out the same spell a second time. She felt the power leave her in a rush, the sensation making her breath catch, and there was a sharp crack that echoed around the ruins as the dog was flung backward over the wall.
There was a distant yelp and a thrashing in the underbrush. Dayna stayed where she was, her chest heaving. All the hairs on her arms were on end, the residual power still prickling under her skin. It had felt like receiving an electric shock in reverse, the power flowing through her body, up from the pit of her stomach and out through the surface of her skin. No wonder Yemi had warned her about the post-ascension power surge.
Both she and Meiner were facing the woods now, on high alert.
From the forest came the crash of something moving, and then miles away, an indistinct voice yelling. Whoever it was sounded angry. The crashing sounds retreated.
“I think it’s leaving,” Meiner finally breathed, but Dayna could hardly hear her. All she could do was stare at the spot on the threshold of the ruins. The crumbling doorway, the moss-covered front step. Empty.
The book was gone.
“Where is it?” She took a step forward, stomach clenching. The forest around her seemed to swing wildly.
Meiner turned back to her, and her eyes went wide. “Dayna, your arm.”
She already knew she was bleeding. She could feel warmth running down her arm, trailing into the crook of her elbow, accompanied by the dull throb of pain. None of that mattered, though. “The book is gone.”
Dayna had felt something when she’d seen the cover of that book, an echo of the feeling in the vision. A sense of rightness. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. If only she could have touched it, it would have told her things. Things that could save them.
“We have to get you out of here.” Meiner’s face was pale.
“But the book—” Dayna turned, and the world gave another nauseating twist, accompanied by a wave of knifelike pain. She sagged against the stone wall, head spinning. The blood coating her arm was thick and sticky, and the flow wasn’t slowing. She felt faint, and hollowed out, and the edges of her vision blackened and blurred.
“Come on.” Meiner stooped down to snatch up the protection charm, tucking it into her jeans pocket before hurrying over, yanking her sweatshirt off. Dayna winced as she pressed the fabric to the wound. “Hold that. Let’s get you to the car.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MEINER
Meiner didn’t relax until they were in the kitchen and she’d delivered Dayna straight into Yemi’s and Reagan’s arms. The walk back through the forest and the drive home had been terrifying. She’d been afraid Dayna was going to pass out, she’d looked so pale.
“She’ll be needing stitches.” Reagan’s brow was creased, and she glanced over at her mother, who was rushing around the kitchen assembling hot water, towels, and the sewing kit. Meiner noticed Reagan kept her hand on Dayna’s other shoulder, rubbing her back. “We’ll have to call Faye.” At Meiner’s puzzled look she added, “She’s a surgeon. Well, she was. This looks pretty bad. Do you know what animal it was?”
“Wild dog, it looked like.” Meiner glanced at Dayna, who had her eyes squeezed shut. “It attacked us in the forest.”
“Wild dog?” Reagan frowned. “What the feck? There aren’t wild dogs in the area. Unless it’s someone’s pet gone off the deep end.”
“There’s no way it was someone’s pet. I saw it up close and…it wasn’t normal.” Meiner crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.
“Its eyes…” Dayna shuddered and trailed off, and Reagan rubbed her back again, expression concerned. Meiner cleared her throat, stepping up behind Dayna.
“They were human.”
Yemi and Reagan exchanged a look, and then Reagan took Dayna’s arm gently and led her over to the kitchen sink, keeping her voice low. “Well, just in case, you’ll need a rabies shot.”
“Holy shit.”
Both Meiner and Reagan jerked around.
Cora stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “What the hell happened?”
Meiner took a deep, steadying breath before answering. “Dog bite.”
Cora lifted a brow. “How did that happen?”
Still struggling to force her temper down, Meiner explained the ruins in the woods, the book, and the attack.
“You’ll need stitches.” Yemi paused by Dayna long enough to smooth a hand over her brow, frowning slightly. “I’ll call the others.”
“We’ll disinfect this, too.” Reagan bit her lip, glancing at Yemi. “We should take her to the hospital.”
Dayna’s eyes snapped open. “No hospital.” When everyone stared at her she flushed. “They’ll call my dad. I’m not supposed to be out of the house.”
“I’m sure he’d understand, right?” Cora leaned forward and tugged the collar of Dayna’s shirt aside to look at her shoulder. The move was bold yet casual, and Dayna didn’t protest, just looked a little startled. Meiner clenched her fists at her sides. Reagan, too, noticed, jerked a hand toward Cora, and then went still, her dark eyes narrow.
“I’m supposed to be grounded,” Dayna said. “Can’t Faye do it?”
�
��Yes, Faye can do it, though Dayna should get checked for rabies.”
They all jumped at the new voice, and Meiner turned to see the severe red-haired woman in the doorway, flanked by her mother and grandmother.
Yemi blinked and let the phone drop back into the receiver.
“What’s happened?” Faye began taking her jacket off, listening to Meiner explain while Brenna and Bronagh bustled over. Bronagh examined the bite while Brenna brushed the back of her hand across Dayna’s forehead, just as Yemi had.
Meiner bit her lip, trying to picture what her coven’s reaction would have been if she’d been the one bitten. Nothing like this.
Faye rolled up her sleeves. “Move her T-shirt to one side. I’ll start in a minute.”
Meiner moved forward, and she and Reagan helped Dayna ease her shirt off one shoulder. Her gaze darted back up to Dayna’s pale face, worry gnawing at her stomach.
“We had the book in our hands.” Dayna was staring fixedly at the wall, brows furrowed. “We had it, and that’s when it attacked. That’s no coincidence.”
“You had it and then lost it.” Cora was by the fireplace, pacing back and forth. “You didn’t see anything inside? What about the symbols on the walls? Tell me you at least got a picture.”
Meiner glared at her. “We can talk after we’ve made sure she isn’t going to bleed out.”
“No. We need to talk now. Call Grandma King as well.” Dayna’s voice trembled. “We need everyone.”
“I’ll get her,” Reagan said. “The woman’s been tearing apart the damn house looking for who-knows-what all morning.”
Meiner clenched her jaw shut, biting back a groan. That was all they needed on top of everything, for Gran to start losing it again.
Dayna was quiet for a moment, until Reagan had vanished upstairs. Then she turned back to the others. “He got to it before we did, which means there will be another victim soon. We should have called earlier, before we went. We shouldn’t have gone by ourselves.”
“You’re right.” Meiner grimaced. That one was on her.
“Yeah.” Cora paused in the middle of her pacing, sounding distinctly annoyed. “I can’t believe you lost the goddamn book.”
Meiner shut her eyes against the hot surge of temper, scrubbing a hand over her face. She couldn’t let Cora get to her again.
Grandma King appeared in the doorway, with Reagan just behind her. “What happened?”
They told her, or Meiner did at least. Dayna was watching, pale-faced, while Faye sterilized a needle in boiled water.
After she’d relayed the full story, Grandma King pulled Meiner into the living room, out of earshot of the others.
“Why didn’t you call me before going to the ruins?”
The anger boiling beneath the surface was enough to make her reckless. “Because I don’t know if I can trust you,” Meiner hissed. “I never know.”
Grandma King straightened up, anger written all over her wrinkled face. Her arm twitched, and Meiner glared at her.
“Go ahead, then, hit me. It’s not like it’s anything new.”
For a moment, it seemed like she really would, and then the look of pure fury on her grandmother’s face faded. Her brow wrinkled with confusion. “What was I saying, Stephanie?”
Meiner shook her head. Her chest felt hollow, breaths trembling and uneven.
“I think I like you better when you’re losing your mind,” she spat.
Gran said nothing in return, the lines of her face deepening as her brow creased. She wasn’t even looking at Meiner anymore; her watery-blue eyes had gone vacant.
Meiner turned away. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to wipe the emotion from her face before moving back into the kitchen.
At the table, Faye had the needle poised over Dayna’s arm.
“All right,” she said. “This is going to hurt.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DAYNA
It hurt. A lot.
Having Faye sew up the wound in her shoulder felt like having someone slowly stitch a line of fire into her skin, but a half hour later the painkillers had kicked in, and Yemi had her drinking an awful-tasting healing tea full of ginger and garlic.
The other witches had moved into the living room, and Dayna found herself in the kitchen alone with Meiner. The silence stretched between them, and Meiner leaned one hip against the counter, staring down at her. They were close enough that Dayna could feel her cheeks start to burn. It felt like she could count the inches between them, calculate how many seconds it would take to close the distance.
Meiner frowned. “You’re flushed. Do you feel sick?”
She blinked in surprise as Meiner reached out, pressing the back of her hand to her cheek. It was cool enough to feel good against her hot skin. Somehow, even overheated, she found she had goose bumps covering her arms. “Uh, I’m all right. Probably just too much excitement for one day.”
“Oh, before I forget.” Meiner dipped one hand into her jeans pocket, pulling the protection charm out. She pressed it into Dayna’s hand, fingertips brushing her palm, making her pulse pick up.
On the counter beside them her phone pinged, and they both glanced over. The text display read, Samuel.
Dayna groaned, feeling suddenly guilty. She’d used him for his knowledge of the Butcher, and then brushed him off the last few days. He was probably wondering what was going on.
“That’s exactly what I need on top of everything.”
“Is this the ex?”
“Yeah.” Dayna rubbed one hand across her face. Her head was pounding. “Can you read it? My head is killing me.”
Meiner asked for the code and then unlocked it, reading the text out slowly. “‘I might have more information. Can we talk?’” She raised a brow when Dayna groaned again.
“I should say yes, in case he actually knows something, but it’s just too much right now. Last time, he asked to get back together.”
“And you told him no?”
Dayna hesitated. “He’s persistent.”
A grin tugged at the corner of Meiner’s lips. “How about I text him back and tell him you’re busy right now?”
Despite her headache, some small part of her was delighted by the expression on Meiner’s face. She looked like she was considering tracking him down to tell him in person.
“What would you say?”
“I’ll show you.” While Meiner was busy with the phone, Dayna watched her as subtly as she could. Her smile was sharp, eyes glittering as she typed out the message. Dayna wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was a little afraid of what might happen.
“Here.” Meiner held the phone up, and Dayna quickly looked away, and then down at the phone. Hopefully her face wasn’t bright red.
Dayna can’t come to the phone right now.
“Send it.” It was probably a bad idea—it might only pique his curiosity—but she couldn’t resist the grin on Meiner’s face.
Meiner hit send. The response was almost immediate.
Who is this?
They exchanged a look, and Meiner edged a little closer so they could both get a clear view of the screen. Without saying anything, she typed out, Her date.
Dayna felt her face grow even hotter. Meiner merely lifted a brow at her, and slowly she nodded. Was the other girl writing that merely to put him off, or…?
She wanted to ask. She couldn’t ask.
Meiner hit send, and for a moment they were both still, unmoving. Dayna realized they were incredibly close right now. That she was sitting on the stool leaning back against the counter, and Meiner was standing so close she was almost between her legs. They looked like a couple right now.
Meiner blinked, looking down at her. Her face was usually so composed, like marble. But now her expression flickered. Dayna wished desperately she could read her better.
“If he’s too persistent,” Meiner said slowly, “I can pretend to be your date in real life.” Her eyes met Dayna’s. They were so dark, still g
littering with the same savage, beautiful light. Dayna clutched the sides of the stool with both hands, repressing a shiver.
It was a good shiver this time. Her headache had slowly begun to subside.
“Yeah,” she said, and her voice came out a little uneven. “We might…we might have to do that.”
There was a sudden shuffling from beside the fireplace, and Meiner sprang back, fast enough that Dayna felt a little dizzy.
Cora stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Dayna and Meiner both stared at the blond girl.
“We should be researching” was all Cora said.
Grandma King came back through the doorway at that moment, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. “The Callighans are leaving. We’ve agreed to another meeting tomorrow.”
“Good.” Dayna spoke before Cora could. “We need to figure out how to track him down before someone else dies.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DUBH
“Stop touching it,” Calma growled. “It’s going to get infected.”
Dubh dropped his hand to his side. He hadn’t even realized he’d been probing the bloody cut on his cheek as he pored over the book.
“Who cares if it gets infected?” Olc was sprawled on the couch, his booted feet propped up on the coffee table, smearing mud on the hotel magazines. “It’s not like it matters.”
“You know we can’t heal, idiot. If his face starts rotting off, it’s going to be pretty obvious.” Calma scowled at his younger brother. “Use your head for once, Olc.”
“I’ll stitch it later,” Dubh said, mainly to shut the two of them up.
“We need to talk about procedure,” Calma said. “It’s getting too messy. Too public. Our handiwork is all over the news right now and I don’t like it. If we could take them back to a room somewhere—”
“You know she’d hate that,” Olc sneered. “Or are you going to find some kind of sacred warehouse?”