“Sherry, you will need provisions from the kitchen. Make a list and send someone to collect them while you get started with the less…pleasant parts of this spell.”
Shery did as she was asked and rattled off a list of things I really hoped we had somewhere in the house. One of the enforcers escorted three of the witches and one warlock to the kitchen. And I waited in a room full of supernaturals, about to be sliced open by a morally questionable one.
Sensing my unease, Merc cleared the room, leaving only the witches necessary for the spell and those I was closest to behind to make sure things went smoothly—or to intimidate Sherry. The two seemed mutually inclusive.
“Just to be clear,” Kat said, staring at Sherry, “you won’t be draining one more drop than necessary from her, right? Because I think that would be unwise, don’t you, Jagger?”
“Yeah, it would.”
“Foust?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Wonder twins?” she asked, turning to Jase and Dean.
“Yep,” they replied in unison.
“What about you, Grizz? You think there might be hell to pay if this witch gets any cute ideas?” The man-bear stepped in front of Sherry, a veritable wall of muscle and silent threats, and made a not-so-subtle ‘snapping in two’ gesture with his hands. Sherry, despite all her previous bravado, actually looked nervous.
Kat’s mission had been accomplished.
“Well, it looks like you can go ahead and get started, now that we have that all sorted,” Kat said as she stepped away to lean on the back of the couch with a harem of Knox’s boys, Merc’s brothers, and Grizz at her sides. “If the vampire king and the alpha say you’re good to go, then get crackin’.”
Knox tried to hide his amusement as he gave her a nod, but I saw the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Merc’s, too.
“I need something to drain it into,” Sherry said, finding her voice.
With a flick of his wrist, Reinhardt held a black chalice out to her. “This should suffice.”
Sherry’s wide eyes stared in awe at the jeweled cup that looked like a prop from Game of Thrones, and I wondered if she knew something I didn’t, or if she was just taken by its goth majesty.
“Well played, old man,” she said as she slipped it from his hands with reverence.
The witches huddled around Sherry as she began to chant, Bea and their queen flanking her. As they did, I looked to my father, my question apparently plain in my stare.
“It is an ancient warlock relic,” he said softly. “Whatever magic is cast with it cannot be used against anyone with warlock blood.”
“Well played, indeed,” I muttered under my breath as my gaze drifted back to the witches. Their hair billowed around them as though a wind rushed through the room, but there was no such wind. Sherry’s brown eyes glowed from within, warming her gaze as it settled upon me, her voice rising as she did whatever the fuck it was she needed to do before spilling my veins into the warlock version of the Holy Grail.
Moments later, she reached her hand for my arm, and I only hesitated for a second before giving it to her. She pushed up my sleeve and turned up my palm, and I couldn’t help the random thought that popped into my mind about palm cuts being the worst, and movies always making them seem like no big deal when really they hurt like a bitch and never healed well. But she didn’t go for my palm. Instead, she traced the nail of her index finger along my forearm, as if magically seeking where best to strike. When she found the spot, she dug that cherry-red polished nail into my skin and dragged it down to my wrist. Blood welled, then poured over my flesh as she lowered my hand to the chalice.
The second the red liquid hit the cup, it sizzled and smoked, and an acrid stench filled the air. I coughed and sputtered, but Sherry held my flesh to the cold metal and continued her ramblings.
“This will work,” Reinhardt said, though his tone sounded more hopeful than confident, which made me even more nervous.
“Good,” I said, trying to seem unfazed. Then a rush of dizziness nearly dropped me to the floor. Merc grabbed my shoulders and held me upright. “Whoa…is the room spinning or is it just me?”
“It’s just you,” he and Knox replied in unison. Neither one sounded pleased.
“I think you have what you need,” Merc said to Sherry. His not-so-subtle subtext didn’t register with the witch at all. She squeezed my elbow harder, forcing the blood to flow.
She flashed him a look that said ‘I will be done when this is full,’ and kept on going.
“I think what his fanged majesty is politely trying to say is ‘knock it the fuck off before I end you’,” Kat called from somewhere to my left. “Unless I’m mistaken.”
“You are not,” Merc replied.
“With all due respect, Mercenary,” the coven queen said, “if we do not have enough, the magic will not hold.”
“I’m fine,” I said as a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. “Just hurry it up so I can heal and we can get this plan started.”
“Just a little more,” Sherry said to herself as she continued to milk my veins. Blood rushed in my ears, my heart raced, and my hand went cold and numb. Not stellar signs. “Okay…I’m done.”
Merc yanked me away and pressed my forearm to his lips. I felt his tongue drag along the wound to stop the bleeding, but it wouldn’t be enough to hold for long. This was hardly a couple of tiny punctures like his feeding caused. I needed to get outside so that I could heal and replenish, or I wasn’t going to be in any shape to face the fey queen.
“I have to go outside,” I said. I pulled away from Merc and headed for the doorway, staggering a little until Knox looped his arm around me and tucked me into his side.
“Not without me, you’re not.”
Foust, Jagger, and Brunton led the way as we exited the media room with Grizz and Kat pulling up the rear. I could hear Merc discussing the plan with Sherry and my father, but their voices faded as we descended the stairs, headed for the main entrance. I punched in the code as quickly as my fuzzy mind would allow, and Kat swung the door open when the latch clicked.
My entourage and I spilled out into the fading night, sunrise lurking on the horizon, and for a moment, I wondered what time it was. We’d been in such a state of unending chaos that I’d totally lost track. Instead of bothering to find out, I flopped to the ground and whispered to the earth beneath me while the others fanned out to keep watch, the threat of my mother ever-looming. Energy seeped in through my pores, and I took a deep breath as it circulated through my body, regenerating all that had been lost to the chalice. But before I could finish, Knox’s hands wrapped around my biceps and snatched me off the ground.
“What is it?” Foust asked. As he searched the area for the threat he hadn’t seen, his eyes fell upon the front door—and the small, bloody object pinned to it with a blade.
Not an object—a creature.
A bird...
“Noooo.”
I wrenched free of Knox and ran to the door, hoping I wasn’t too late. Hoping I could save the raven who had saved me, reuniting me with my father. My father’s guardian had been plucked clean except for a single feather atop his head, and his wings had been broken. They hung limp at his sides, bloody, with bones sticking out. With gentle fingers, I lifted his head to look in his eyes. There was only a hint of life left in them.