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“It would seem the curse is still intact,” she says as though she hasn’t put me through something excruciating. “Now, it’s unraveled. You will be free to fornicate with other women.”
“What use is that when you intend to bleed me to death?”
The witches burst into raucous laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I no longer have the energy to snarl.
“Once we’ve drained you of your blood and magic, we’ll put the rest of your body to use.” The grandmother’s voice comes from far away, as though she’s speaking to me from a chasm.
Her words take several slow heartbeats to register. I open my mouth to protest, but all I can do is rasp.
The aunt hovers over me, her eyes bright. “We’ll turn what’s left of you into a phallus, encase it in crystal, and sell it to the highest bidder.”
At least I think that’s what she said. The rest of the sentence disappears into a blur as black spots fill my vision.
If I lose any more of my essence, I will never awaken. At least not in this body.
“It’s full,” says a voice.
“Wonderful,” the grandmother says. “Lower him to the slab.”
My mind battles against the blood loss, the confusion, the fatigue. I fall through the air and land on the stone podium with a heavy thud.
I can’t even muster up a triumphant smile. I’m too busy trying to soak up magic from the stone before I lose consciousness.
ChapterThirty-Nine
ALIENOR
I lean forward on Aggie’s broomstick, holding its shaft in a death grip. Wind blows through my hair and fills my ears with a high-pitched whistle.
The land beneath us is a blur. She’s traveling twice the speed limit, but that’s not the reason why my heart is trying to smash through my ribcage.
By now, the coven could have ground the Boogie Man into potion ingredients or whatever they do to their enemies.
My heart clenches hard with an ache that spreads across my chest. I can’t stand the thought of him suffering after he’s endured so much.
Enchanted at the age of nineteen into marrying a manipulative woman. Cursed decades later the moment he realized he’d been duped. Usurped, poisoned, and condemned to centuries of bitterness and sexual frustration.
The Boogie Man deserves better.
“Ali,” Aggie yells over the sound of the wind.
“What?”
“You really like him?”
I gulp. Now’s probably not the time to admit my feelings toward the man who maimed her and left her for dead. “It’s complicated.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she snaps. “We both know you didn’t volunteer to steal back my broomstick for nothing. You used to be terrified of the Boogie Man, now you’re running to his rescue.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. Aggie’s features are hard with determination. She’s more than capable of taking me back home out of spite. If I don’t tell her the truth, I can say goodbye to ever seeing the Boogie Man again.
“It’s because he’s hot, right?” she asks.
“No,” I blurt. “It’s more than lust. The Boogie Man was the only person who ever paid me any attention.”
“That makes no sense.” She shakes her head for emphasis. “You have the rest of the coven—”
