Oh, for the love of Kool-Aid. Remind me again, because I seem to have missed it… How the fuck did this little cum stain get elected to lead an all-powerful cult of witch hunters wheeling and dealing with the highest orders of Hell? Seriously! Had I known the bar was so low, maybeIwould’ve applied for the job.
With no further magic words for the nebulous lords of darkness, Brendan gets to work.
He starts with Rachel, cutting her binds and slicing a deep gash in her palm. She yelps behind her gag, hand trembling.
Kate’s next, a small gasp of pain her only response.
When he cuts my ropes, I grit my teeth and grind out softly, just for him, “I hope this makes you feel like a real man, Brendan.”
“You have no idea.” He smirks and slices my palm, hard and fast.
“That’s right. Hurt a woman, big man. Make me bleed. Because limpdick?” I give him an icy smile. “That’s thelasttime you’ll get the opportunity.”
His smirk falters, and something dark flashes through his eyes.
Terror.
He quickly looks away. Then, still not meeting my eyes, he goes, “When this is over, you’ll be dead, witch.” He touches the tip of the athame to the grimoire’s silver medallion. “Activate the fucking book.”
With no other options, my sisters and I tighten our hands into fists and squeeze, blood mingling as it drips onto the medallion. Seconds later, the book begins to glow, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Blood of our blood of our blood…
My own magic stirs in response, the tingling, tugging sensation spreading from my chest outward, flooding my limbs with power.
“Find the spell,” Brendan commands.
I reach for the front cover. Before I’ve even made contact, the book flips itself open, spells coming to life on the page, as if they’re being written by some invisible hand.
The words are in English, but they don’t make any sense. I don’t know if it’s because it’s written in code, or I’m too riled up to concentrate on reading, or if after all this I’m just destined to suck at witchcraft.
The words swim before my eyes. I don’t know what I was expecting. A table of contents? Spells with perfectly obvious names, like, “How to make someone fall in love with you” or “Quick spell for getting the job of your dreams” or “How to transfer all of your ancestral magic to a cult of hunters making a party game out of your murder?”
Can I fake it? Buy us time to figure out an escape plan? Pretend I’m getting some great download from beyond the veil that requires all these sycophants to leave the room and Brendan to hand over the blade?
Fuck.
Yes, I’m a witch. A Bonnivarde one at that. But when push comes to shove, I don’t know any actual spells. The only magic I’ve successfully performed has been with Merrick, either sensing energies or summoning imps from?—
Wait. That’s it. Theimps!
“What am I looking for, exactly?” I hedge, my mind racing with new possibilities.
“The Spell of Transference,” Brendan says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh! Right. Duh.” I grace him with a plastic smile, then dive back into the book, flipping pages, finally settling on a random one-pager. “Here it is!” I run my finger over the words, making it up as I go. “‘Spell to transfer a witch’s power to a pure vessel.’ As long as you qualify, this should work.”
This seems to satisfy him. “I ammorethan qualified.”
“Okay, just give me a second.”
The whole room is on pins and needles. My sisters are murmuring behind their gags, probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing, which is a fair question, but…onward!
Merrick once told me the portal isn’t a set location, but the entire energetic barrier between realms. In theory, I should be able to summon demons anywhere, including here. It’s risky business considering I don’t have my own Devil’s trap set up, but… that’s a problem for future Lizzy. The one who’s hopefully not dead at the end of this.
God, I hope this works…
I close my eyes. Take a deep, centering breath. Think back to our practice sessions, to all those times I stood at the edge of the portal, casting for the demons ready to step forth and serve.
