Cue the Magic by Jake Skelton & Steve Higgs

Author:Jake Skelton & Steve Higgs [Skelton, Jake & Higgs, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

“Over here.” I bent low, and draped Loren’s arm over my shoulders then propelled us both forward. Kicking back, I heeled the door closed, then maneuvered the dead weight of the witch into the living room and toward the leather sofa. She stepped alongside me, but one foot drag-scraped along the floor, her body more like dead weight than another person. The sulfur stink of magic energy dispersed gradually as I angled toward the sofa and lowered her to it, half-cradling her. Her skin was ashen, the pale color of modeling clay and she licked the dark blood from her lips, sucking at it like it was water in a desert.

“What happened, Loren?” I looked up and down her body, the denim pants, fur-lined boots and cable knit sweater all looking more or less unmarred by injury. There was no blood anywhere but her lips, no torn fabric, no indication anywhere of any sort of attack or trauma. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to form the words. I looked her in the eyes and saw a gray shadow filling her sclera’s, surrounding the dark orbs of her pupils. It was like a glass of milk filled with ash, the mottled gray of embers shifting the color an off-white hue. “Loren, come on!” I clawed strands of hair from her face and her head lolled, then tipped sideways, the shades of her eyelids drawing closed. I turned her over slightly on the couch, searching the fabric of her sweater for some sign of injury, but finding none. I spread her limbs wide, tracking the soft flesh of her arms, searching her neck, trying to find some sign of where she might have been attacked.

“Who did this to you?”

Again, her lips parted, her eyelids fluttering weakly. “R— Ric—” the word was a choked stammer in her throat.

“I’m here, Loren.” I rolled her over onto her back, my hands clutching her shoulders. “I’m here. How can I help? Let me call 9-1-1.” I stood but felt the weak grasp of her fingers on the hem of my REO Speedwagon t-shirt, distorting the logo stitched to its front.

“They— can’t help.”

I turned back toward her, crouching next to her, and took her hands in mine. “Loren. Who did this? What happened?”

“Assassin,” she managed to form the words. “Sent— sent by Ricard.”

“Ricard? Like— your brother Ricard? He’s an asshole, Loren, but he wouldn’t go that far, would he?”

“L— leadership of the— the coven. He might.” The words were strangled in her throat. “Warlock, remember? He’s— a warlock. Indebted to the demon— who gave him— gave him his power.” Her eyes squinted tight, drawing narrow creases in the skin at the corners.

“Okay, right, fine. Warlock. Demon. Whatever you say, Loren, I just need to get you some help.”

Her mouth opened, but she winced instead of spoke and another trickle of dark blood seeped from between her pinched lips, running down toward her jawline. I leaped to my feet and sprinted toward the hallway and quickly approached my office door.

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