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16
Bronywyn
The door hits the wall with the force of my rage as I shove into my house. Blood crusted to the skin just beneath my ears and nose, I know I look like hell. So, when Chasin jumps up from his spot on the couch and rushes forward, I’m not even a little surprised.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap back at him and shove forward, straight for the bottle of whiskey still sitting on my kitchen counter. Grabbing it, I turn and jump back, plopping down on the countertop.
“You look like you just had your ass handed to you, and you don’t want to talk about it?” Eyebrow raised, he studies me curiously.
“They fucked with the wrong witch,” I tell him.
“It was a trap then?”
“It was.” The words are bitter on my tongue.I told you we should kill them. Let me have control, I will ease your pain. All you have to do is say the word. No more pain. No more feelings.
Chasin chuckles. “They clearly have no idea who it is they’re dealing with.”
“Clearly.”
“How many of them did you manage to kill?”
And there it is. The worst part of the whole fucking thing. Even with as angry as I am—as hurt—I still couldn’t bring myself to kill anyone, though I was planning on taking out the second fae in attendance. Him, I don’t know, and therefore I don’t give a shit whether or not he’s still breathing. “None.”
“You mean to tell me that you walked into a trap and didn’t kill any of the fuckers?” Swiping the bottle from me, he tips it up and drinks deeply. “You are in desperate need of my help.”
With a glare, I rip the bottle back from him and jump down. “I need no one.”Except for me,it whispers.
“Then how do you plan to seek retribution?”
“I don’t. They either stay away from me, or they die.”
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “And here I thought you were looking to become the biggest bad in all the lands.”
“I will lead Billings,” I tell him. “The councils are relatively extinct, and the supernaturals need a new leader. Someone who won’t allow the same shit to slide.”
“Going to take your bloodline’s seat, are you?”
“No,” I retort. The last thing I want is the singular seat held by my mother before me; her mother before her. Even as a young witch, I’d watched her turmoil, witnessed the way she fought back against them. In the end, they’d killed her. And I don’t even want to spare a single thought for the man who raised me. Can of worms? No thanks.. I level my gaze on him. “I’m going to take all of them.”
His eyes widen, and he’s silent for a moment. “Then I suppose I’m on the right side of history.”
“You are. And you have one job, Chasin. I suggest you fucking do it.”
“Way ahead of you. It’s nearly done. I simply need a bit of your blood, and I’ll finish it right up.”
In my world, there is no magic more potent than that which uses blood. Contracts are sealed in it, the magic within the crimson containing the ability to make or break the world. Which is exactly why his seemingly simple request puts my back up. “Why?”
“Blood makes the magic stronger, my dear.” He pulls a blade out of his pocket, the blade shining beneath the lights. “It’s how the spell knows what to shield. Without it, this is nothing but a glorified piece of costume jewelry.”
“You use my blood for anything but this spell, and I will relieve you of all of yours.”
He chuckles. “It really is too bad you didn’t use some of that hesitation with your friends. Might have saved you some time if you’d applied your apparent trust issues to them.”
Without responding, I hold out my wrist, wincing as the blade burns across my skin. Red blood wells up on the surface, and he snaps his fingers, freezing the droplets and catching them onto the silver of his blade.
“Neat trick.”
