Witching Hour (Blood Magic #3) - L.H. Cosway Page 0,28

mist, but again Theodore pushed it back in. Finally, I saw Rita was floating in mid-air, struggling against some kind of invisible forcefield that Theodore had placed around her. She looked like an angry Goth doll in a bubble.

I tried again, pushing at Finn’s chest, and in the split second where the mist was out of him and before Theodore had the chance to force it back in, he uttered out a strangled plea, “Stab me, use the razor.”

Then the chaos was back inside him and his hands returned to my throat. Stab him? Seriously? I couldn’t stab him. I just couldn’t. But as his death grip tightened on me and my body started to lose strength, I knew I didn’t have any other choice.

Somewhere close by, I heard Theodore laugh. “Are you feeling sufficiently punished yet, Treasure? No? I think we’ll let this play out for a little while longer then. I always enjoy a good death match.”

Using my left hand, I shakily pulled out the blade, unable to see any other option but my imminent demise. Tears streaked down my face, and I started to choke. I didn’t want to do this. I really, really didn’t. Time was running out though. I needed to get Finn off me so I had a chance of running. Stabbing him in the arm or the leg wouldn’t be enough of a blow. The chaos had taken over too much of him now. I tried to decide where to stab him in the stomach that wouldn’t be life-threatening.

But what if I got it wrong and he bled out? Finn’s eyes seared into mine. I could almost hear him urging me, Do it. Do it! With no more time to think left, I chose a spot and thrust the blade into him. His hands fell away. I pulled the blade out, then panicked when I realised I probably should’ve left it in. Finn’s large body went limp, his weight falling on me. His mouth opened, and dark tendrils of mist slithered out.

My heart leapt into overdrive when I saw more and more of his blood seeping onto the floor.

“Ah,” Theodore said from up high, “I think Treasure has learned her lesson.”

He swiped his hand in a downward motion, and Rita fell to the floor. Once free of her bubble she unleashed an angry tirade, pulling a glass bottle containing some kind of pink potion out of her satchel and flinging it at Theodore. It smashed into his chest and burst into pink and orange flames. Theodore grinned, and with another hand motion, the flames disappeared.

“Bravo, my child. Very good!” He gave her a round of applause, like a proud father.

“You bastard!” Rita screeched. “I hate you. If I could somehow purge you from me, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Theodore gazed at her, clearly amused at her harsh words.

“You say that now, daughter, but one day you will join me of your own accord. One day soon.” And with that, he vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.

5.

Rita and I stared at the smoke for a moment before reality hit us and we rushed to help Finn.

“Shit, shit, shit! This isn’t good,” Rita said in a panic as I peeled Finn’s coat off and pushed his T-shirt up to reveal a heavily bleeding gash.

The blood pumped out, gushing over his scarred skin. There were little healed silver scars here and there, injuries that he’d accumulated over the years while fighting vampires.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I have something we can use,” Rita rambled as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out all sorts of potions and lotions. Some of them moved and pulsated inside their containers, as though alive.

Unlike Rita, who apparently didn’t stop talking in a crisis, I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to work. I did this to him. I couldn’t believe I stabbed Finn. Strong, reliable Finn, who was always on hand in a spot of trouble, was now lying unconscious on the floor of a church, possibly dying.

Under Rita’s instructions, I tore a strip of fabric from Finn’s T-shirt, bunched it up, and held it to his wound to slow the bleeding. Rita unscrewed the cap on a bottle of slimy, slithery green liquid. She opened another that contained glittery looking sand and poured it into the slimy one. Instantly, they mixed and fused, creating a bright silver concoction.

Rita shoved my hand out of the way and gave me the bottle. She scrunched up her nose in distaste as

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