Touch of Evil - Cecy Robson Page 0,40

Ted.”

Gerald’s hands lift Gerald’s head off the ground. “Wait a minute. I’m here so she can eat me?”

“And I’m a pawn to be disposed of,” I bite out. My glare trains on my captors. “Una didn’t care if I suffered. From the moment she formed her plan, she counted on my death. It guaranteed I could no longer heal and protect Celia, as well as offered a demonstration of her supposed strength.” I shake my head. “It’s sickening. All this to win evil’s favor and hurt someone I deeply love.”

“I don’t want to be eaten,” Gerald interjects.

Shame hunches Merche’s small frame. “We didn’t want you to die, Emme. We didn’t want anyone to die. All we wanted was a place to belong.”

“There are better ways to find your tribe,” I tell them.

“Not for us,” Merche replies.

I cross my arms, tired of their excuses. “Why didn’t Una kill me outright? Why did she just toss me here and leave?”

Farrah lifts her head from the water. “Una thought you were dead, we all did,” she tells me. Like me, she’s ignoring Gerald’s mounting hysterics. “She told us she felt your soul leave your body.”

I did, too.

The realization is almost too much to bear. I huddle into myself. Had my magic not fought to keep me alive, I wouldn’t be standing here now.

Una, like everyone else, underestimated me and my power. For once, the lack of faith worked to my advantage.

“I eat others,” Gerald says. “Get it? Others do not eat me.”

“Una will be here soon,” Merche says. She fumbles with her paws as she looks around. “We’re supposed to nourish the vampire so he’ll regenerate and provide her a better feed.”

I pivot away from them. “Fine,” I say. “You do that.”

“What?” Merche says.

“Huh?” Gerald asks.

“Gerald, you need to eat. You’ll get better, and then you can fight.” I whirl, making a point to meet each witch in the face. “Then we’re finding Bren and getting out of here.”

Tears pour from Merche’s beady eyes, soaking her fuzzy features. “You don’t understand, we can no longer find our way out. We’re trapped in here just as you are.” She looks at Farrah, her squeaks more terrified. “And Una…Una will kill us if we help you in any way.”

Farrah’s face expands and deflates in quickening motions. “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” I say before Farrah can argue. “You’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet.”

Merche loses her composure, crying loudly. I don’t hold her little paw or gently stroke the fur on her head. I don’t even try to slick back the scales sticking out near Farrah’s gills. We’re past tenderness and sympathy. Only survival remains.

“Mirror took a long time to work on you,” I remind them. “Now that it’s begun, it’s manipulating the magic inside you in the way that it shouldn’t. There are reasons these High Tasks are assigned to witches close to the end of their studies. You’re beginning to see what happens when such a powerful spell goes wrong.”

“Our friends are dead, Merche,” Farrah blurts out.

“Your friends?” I ask.

They both nod, but only Farrah replies, wetness releasing from her bulging eyes. “Their bodies couldn’t handle Mirror.”

“Is that what Una told you?” I ask.

This time, when they face me, they see the truth they’ve for too long suppressed. I continue, knowing they don’t want to hear it but also recognizing that they must. “Mirror didn’t kill your friends. Una did. Their bodies were found tonight, all dismantled like Ted and in varying stages of decomposition.”

A new form of sadness takes over Merche’s disposition. “Did they look human? Or did they look like us?”

“Human,” I say. Shayna and Koda would have told me otherwise. “My guess is the spell broke with their passing.” I ease away from them. I’ve never had to share news of this magnitude and force the words out. “This spell is changing you into something you were never meant to be. You’re sick and your condition is worsening. I can sense it with my magic. It’s not just food you lack. Your animal counterpart is fighting the human side that remains.”

“Is the animal trying to kill us?” Merche asks.

“At the very least, it’s attempting to dominate you,” I explain. I’ve spent enough time with weres to understand as much. “It wants to live just as much as you do.”

Farrah grips Merche’s hand as she addresses me. “But you can help us, right? You won’t let us keep turning, will you?”

“I’ll speak to Genevieve,” I promise. “If