Part 6 (1/2)

I held the pictures with great care, remembering the last days we'd spent together. But then the memories of our last few hours dug their way through the numbness and shot through like an eruption of lava. My eyes skimmed along the five making up the circle. ”Run,” I growled. ”Run for your lives.”

They stumbled to their feet, tripping over their long skirts in their haste. A few of them grabbed their now semi-conscious members and yanked them to their feet and out the door. The first one to escape screamed for Genevieve. That's okay. I'd take her on next. But first . . .

The large oak table smashed to splinters in front of Spiky and the four witches I'd tracked. They'd tried to follow suit behind the rest of their coven. But they needed to stay. My tigress eyes met Spiky's, forcing her already fair skin to whiten to chalk. ”Uh, uh. Not you. Where's Larissa?”

She lifted her chin in a show of force. Maybe it would have worked if she'd met my gaze, or if perspiration hadn't formed across her brow, or if the aroma of her fear hadn't riled the thirst of my beast. ”You don't know who you're dealing with.”

The one whose staff I'd thrown into the street charged me. She lifted the long wooden stick with a banshee scream and pointed it directly at my heart. Light from her amber stone filled the room with yellow and drenched the air with nauseating magic. ”Fue-”

I cut off her spell by s.n.a.t.c.hing her staff from her hands, snapping it in two, and jamming the shard end into her thigh.

She crumpled against the floor, wailing.

Stupid b.i.t.c.h should have learned the first time. I separated the amber stone from the tip of the staff and tossed it into a fireplace made from river rocks. ”Anyone else?” They exchanged glances, but didn't speak. ”Where's Larissa?” I hissed again over the pained cries of their sister.

Their silence made me impatient. I kicked the howling woman at my feet into the two witches closest to me when they drew their magic. The three of them slammed into the wall, denting the sheetrock. Poor wall.

The witches fell forward in a mound of groaning bodies, except for the one with the piece of staff jutting from her thigh. She continued to scream. They half-crawled, half-staggered out the door, joining the others who beseeched Genevieve to appear. Two witches left. I only needed one to summon Larissa.

But then I didn't even need one. The sound of sliding fabric had me veering toward the worn wooden steps. Larissa's bare foot, the one with the amethyst toe rings, appeared at the landing. They sparkled with lavender light and heat as they paused before taking the next step. She knew I was here. And why I'd arrived. She took another step, followed by another, until her curvy figure presented itself. Her tight blond curls stuck to her face. She fluffed them with her fingers with casual grace.

She'd been sleeping. My sisters were dead and she'd been sleeping.

I thought back to the pentacle. The efforts of the challenges must have drained her. h.e.l.l, they'd drained me. Had she put her clan in charge of maintaining them? Was that even legal? Too bad I didn't care enough to ask. The outcome remained the same. She was going to die-or I would, trying to kill her.

The edges of her long gray velvet dress dragged along the steps. She barely acknowledged me as she swept into the kitchen where a few bottles of wine and bottled water sat in a neat little row. She poured herself a gla.s.s of red. Although she kept her back to me, I wasn't stupid enough to think she couldn't see me attack. The newt incident had taught me that much.

Larissa took a sip. ”Mmm. Good year.” She took another sip. Then she finally looked at me. ”What's wrong, Celia? Rough day?”

I didn't feel my legs bend into a crouch or propel me forward, but suddenly I was airborne with my front claws extended toward Larissa's throat. I'd grazed her jugular when I stopped moving, frozen in air. Rays of purple light from her toe rings flickered below me and sent a heat wave to warm my belly. Her magic had saved her. This time.

Larissa clutched her throat as a stream of red seeped through her fingers. She hadn't expected me to move so fast. And neither had I.

The witches near the door gasped. Larissa ducked under my reach, not that it mattered. I could barely breathe, let alone move. She ripped a kitchen towel off a hook to pat her throat, then stared at the b.l.o.o.d.y cloth. Her scowl met my furious glare. ”You were supposed to cry misericordia long before this.” Her tone made me think my lack of dying bothered her.

Sucked to be her.

Her head whirled toward the spiky-haired witch. ”Did the others maintain my spell?”

Spiky nodded. ”Yes, Sister Larissa. All day.” She glanced my way. ”Just like you demanded of us. But maintaining the intensity of the velum drained their strength.” She motioned to me with a nod. ”They lost Celia and couldn't find her.”

”That's because she came to find you. You're all weak!” Larissa wiped her neck in rapid strokes. A heavy lavender mist formed around her throat. When she removed her hand, my claw mark had vanished.

The other witch stepped forward. Her straight auburn hair angled in a bob along her narrow chin. ”If it doesn't offend, Sister Larissa, why did you insist the others maintain your spell, especially if you consider them so weak?” She glanced my way, careful to avoid my stare. ”This was your challenge alone to bear.”

Larissa dropped her b.l.o.o.d.y rag on the floor and slowly snaked her way to the witch who spoke. Her bare feet slapped against the old wood with purpose and rage. She wanted to draw blood, possibly from one of her clan. I could sense the menace boiling to the surface in the way her rings painted the hem of her skirt a deep purple. The auburn-haired witch surprised me by not bowing when Larissa circled her. She wasn't fearful of Larissa. If anything, she appeared disgusted.

Larissa narrowed her eyes. She didn't seem to appreciate her inferior's lack of panic. ”It does offend.” She shoved her face into her subordinate's. ”And as your leader, I may use you as I see fit.”

The witch kept her gaze straight. ”Genevieve won't approve. The challenge isn't just-”

Larissa smacked her hard across the face. The witch's head flew back. She blinked several times as the print of Larissa's hand swelled against her cheek.

”Genevieve doesn't lead you!” Larissa screamed at her.

The other witch said no more. Larissa left her and returned to me. ”Now, where were we?” Flames shot out high from the stove like a grease fire. ”Oh, yes. I do believe you owe me a plea of mercy.”

The auburn-haired witch stumbled forward. ”That's four challenges!” she hollered. When Larissa ignored her, the auburn-haired witch raced out the door, joining the other witches now shrieking for Genevieve to appear.

The entire house rattled as lightning struck outside, bursting like fire against the windows. The witches bellowed their summoning chant, imploring Genevieve to appear. Screams replaced soft voices. Accusations turned to sobs. And something cracked and splintered like gla.s.s.

I didn't care, not about them or their d.a.m.n drama. Larissa had destroyed everyone I'd loved. She needed to bleed and I needed to make it happen. If only I could break from her grasp.

Larissa angled my body around in a semi-circle so my face would be the first to meet the blaze. My back bowed and arched. The spell Larissa had wielded to kill my sisters had obviously drained her. Her power was fading fast, only not fast enough. She inched me closer to the stove. Fire licked the edges of my hair, smoking and curling the ends. Sweat and tears dripped down my chin. I bucked and thrashed, still unable to move my arms as if bound. But my legs? They'd always ruled as my strongest part.

Larissa took another sip of wine as she lowered me another few inches. ”Say it, Celia. Just say it and this all ends.”

The back of my foot connected with her wine gla.s.s. It shattered against her face. She screamed, releasing me from her magical grasp.

The force of my kick swerved me enough so only my arm hit the stove. The flames had extinguished from Larissa's lack of focus, but the metal grills seared my arm like a piece of fish, flaking off chunks of my flesh. I grunted, clenching my jaw from the wretched sting, refusing to scream. Larissa had caused me enough pain. I wouldn't allow her the pleasure of witnessing more. I wrenched away from the stove, just as the rising power of Larissa's magic showered the kitchen with lavender light.

I threw myself across the wooden floor, narrowly missing the avocado green refrigerator she launched in my direction. It broke against the wall, barely shuddering when she attempted to draw it back.

”b.i.t.c.h!” she screamed. Blood oozed from her right eye and from a gash across her nose. But there was no time to heal. After all, she had a tigress to deal with.

I kicked up into a standing position and growled. My claws slowly protruded through my fingertips as I made my way toward my prey. The dishwasher hurtled from the wall. I leapt over it easily, its speed no match for mine. I focused on Larissa with predator eyes, trailing her as she backed away.

”Celia?”

Taran's gargled voice halted my steps. What felt like a bucket of slush chilled my skin. My breath quickened. She shouldn't be here.

”Ceel? Celia, please look at me.”

She shouldn't be here!

I rammed my eyes shut and buried my pain deep. The cool air in the kitchen s.h.i.+fted. I opened my lids in time to dive out of the way of a flying chair. My claws dug into floor as Taran's four-inch sandals stepped in front of me. Her legs held that same sickly green tone. I shot to my feet, grinding my fangs to keep from screaming. Bruised marks coiled around her neck. Only the whites of her eyes showed. She smiled without humor. ”Don't hurt her, Ceel.” She sc.r.a.ped a long manicured fingertip across the note still pinned to her white nightgown. ”I told you. It's my fault.”

I clutched her cold body against me, trembling. My eyes stung. ”It's not. I failed you.”

Emme's voice replaced Taran's. ”We forgive you, Celia.”

I held her at arm's length. Emme's soft green eyes barely registered my face. Her mouth opened, spilling white foam. She gagged and choked. I lifted her in my arms and lay her on the floor on her side. As I pushed the hair out of her face, her blond, wavy strands transformed into Shayna's black silk locks beneath my fingertips. Shayna curled into the knife still imbedded in her sternum. Dark clots leeched out of her mouth as the bloodstain around her chest widened. My hands wandered over her body, desperate to help her, yet unsure how.

Something solid broke against my skull. I flew backwards and landed hard on my spine. My vision cleared in time to see Shayna jerk the knife from her sternum and plunge it down toward my chest. I clutched her wrist with one hand. Whoever she was, whatever she was, didn't stand a chance against the strength of a four-hundred pound predator. I shoved my feet into her stomach and thrust, sending her soaring into the pentacle.

She hovered above the sacred circle as it electrified like live wire, disintegrating my hair and the pictures into dust. Shayna's thin, b.l.o.o.d.y frame twitched and jerked, turning into Emme, then Taran, then Shayna once more before vanis.h.i.+ng in a mushroom cloud of lavender.