Page 117 of Wraith's Revenge

What cost?

You will see soon enough. Take care, little sister, and live well. I will see you in the afterlife.

She left, but not before warmth brushed my lips. A departing kiss from a sister I wouldn’t see or hear from again.

I blinked back tears, then closed my eyes, fighting the fierce desire to just slide into the grip of unconsciousness. I couldn’t let go just yet. I had to see my father. Had to understand Cat’s cryptic comment.

I pushed slowly to my feet. Pain erupted in a dozen different places, but it was, for the moment, ignorable. I shoved the empty holy water bottle into my jacket pocket but kept grip of the bloody knife. The wraith was dead, which meant any spell he’d placed on or around my father should have died with him, but I wasn’t about to take the chance.

I limped past the three men Belle still held immobile. Their gazes followed me, their expressions a mix of fear and confusion. Two of them were gripping knives, the third a rope. The wraith hadn’t wanted me dead, but he obviously had no concern about me being beaten up and bloody.

I skirted around the pile of pallets I hadn’t destroyed and then stopped dead.

Rodrika lay ten feet away, her legs, hands, and mouth all duct taped. She’d been stripped, and there was what looked to be peanut butter smeared over her body. That was what the rats had been dining on... that and her flesh.

While she was conscious.

Bile rose, and this time would not be restrained. I staggered over to the pallets and lost everything I’d eaten over the last eight hours.

When there was nothing left but dry heaves, I wiped my mouth and then said, Belle, are you able to dial down her pain sensors?

Not without the risk of letting those three men free.

Order them to leave the building and not return, I said. I really don’t care about them right now.

She did so, then deepened our connection and reached out to Rodrika. A heartbeat later, Rodrika’s eyes closed.

She’s unconscious, Belle said wearily. It was easier to do.

Thanks. How far away are you all?

A minute or so.

Don’t come in with them. I’ll reach out if I need anything.

Okay.

As our contact dropped, I turned, walked around Rodrika, and found my father. Like her, he was naked, but there was no peanut butter and no sign that the rats had taken even the smallest of nibbles. That, no doubt, was due to the pentagram that surrounded him. The dark candles still burned at the cardinal points, but I couldn’t immediately see any indication of an active spell.

My father wasn’t moving, and he wasn’t awake. But neither was he dead. There was no sign of damage, no wounds, and no immediate indication of what had been done to him.

As the wail of sirens jumped into focus, I raked my gaze along the length of his body. Cat had said my father had paid a high price, but I had no idea...

Then I realized what was missing.

His aura—his magical aura. All witches had one. For the most part, they toned it down so as to not blind or overwhelm other witches, but this close, its thrum should have been evident.

Its absence could mean only one thing. The wraith had stolen the one thing my father prized above everything else.

His magic.

I walked up the steps to my family’s home, my gaze lingering over the familiar facade.

I would never come back here. Ever.

Twenty-four hours had passed since we’d saved my father. He’d refused to go to the hospital—hadn’t, in fact, even waited for the ambulance to arrive, but instead had insisted Mom drive him home.

We both knew why.

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