Witching Hour (Blood Magic #3) - L.H. Cosway Page 0,42

concoction on the mist, and it rose against the attack. Black and grey swirled within it, as though working to make a shape. Suddenly, it wasn’t a featureless mass anymore, but a face with deep, dark holes for eyes. The mouth opened, and tendrils seeped out, lashing at the slayers.

“This isn’t good,” I said, panicking.

“Nope,” Finn replied, striding forward and spraying at a tendril that reached for one of the slayers. He wasn’t fast enough. The mist got into the slayer, and he dropped his extinguisher. His face contorted, the possession taking hold.

“Retreat!” the slayer demanded in a strangely robotic voice as he turned to face us.

“The mist is communicating through him,” Finn said, sounding genuinely afraid.

The slayer’s entire body puffed up, and his mouth opened wide, all of his teeth showing. I could hear his bones cracking as more and more mist filled him—too much for his body to hold. It was truly horrific. “REEEEEE-TREEEEAT!!”

“I think we should go,” I said breathlessly. “He’s not walking away from that, and the mist sounds pretty fucking angry right now.”

Finn’s expression was agonised. I could tell how hard it was for him to accept that this slayer was lost to the mist. A moment later he gave a small nod of resolve and called to the others, “Okay, everyone, let’s get out of here.”

Only one slayer seemed conflicted about leaving, but the others backed away slowly from the raging chaos.

“Come on, Owen, he’s gone,” Finn urged, grabbing the slayer and pulling him back.

“He was my best friend!” he cried out as Finn squeezed his shoulders and guided him away. Emotion caught in my throat at seeing the slayer’s grief over losing his friend.

When the mist saw that we were leaving the face faded away, and it became a huge black mass again. The magic inside of me sensed its triumph. It won that round, but we weren’t backing down, not by a long shot. Anger and injustice roiled within me. It came on quick, but suddenly I was furious. I made sure Finn had gotten far enough away before I turned on my heel and marched back toward the mist.

It parted for me, unable to infect me since I wasn’t completely human. Distorted screeching filled my ears, and I clamped my hands over them to block it out. It stayed at least two feet away from me, but it also circled me, trapping me in. The screeching was deafening—maddening. I started to wonder if perhaps this was a bad idea.

My ears rang, and the screeching began to sound like laughter. It was laughing at me. My eyes grew heavy, and when they drifted shut all I saw was fire and darkness. Then I saw a body lying on a rock, curled in on itself crying. My dad! The mist was showing him to me, showing me his pain and agony. It was almost like it was taunting me.

Just because I can’t infect your body doesn’t mean I can’t infect your mind.

“Shit! Get out! Get out of my head!”

A second later someone grabbed me and hauled me away from the dark. When I came to, I was sitting on the ground on the main street with Ira standing over me.

“You shouldn’t do that. You have power, but you are not indestructible, Tegan. None of us are,” he said.

This was the first time he’d addressed me by name.

I blinked, my heart swelling with hurt at the vision of my dad. “I just let my anger get the better of me,” I muttered, rubbing my chest. Thinking of Dad brought on physical pain.

“Anger breeds stupidity. The two often go hand in hand. Remember that.”

I squinted up at him. “I’m starting to think I liked you better when you didn’t speak.”

Ira actually laughed then, a deep, throaty chuckle. “Nobody likes a mirror held up to their flaws.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” I said with a sigh, my heart finally recovering its normal rhythm after what just happened. Ira took my hand and pulled me up, before guiding me across the street where Finn had assembled the slayers. It looked like he was debriefing them.

When we reached Finn, the slayers were already departing.

“What took you so long?” he asked. I shot Ira a look that said I didn’t plan on telling Finn about my stupidity facing the mist alone.

“I was waiting for Ira,” I lied, and Finn seemed to buy the excuse.

“The mist is getting stronger,” he said, perturbed. “It’s like we’re just pissing it off by trying

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