Page 118 of Dance With Death

“Again. Yes.” I bite my lip as I paint the last rune with my blood, completing those needed for the ritual. All the while my heart hammers with worry that Grayson could open that door at any moment. Anything, Violet. “Now, add your blood.”

Dashiell finally offers a hand, and I resist snatching and holding tight, instead calmly cutting his finger. He doesn’t flinch but prevents me moving his hand towards the centre of the circle.

“Wait. We’re all leaving together, aren’t we?”

“Dashiell.” I succeed in pulling his hand closer to the runes, but his shifter strength aids in his resistance. “We need to leave.”

“Why?”

The door at the top of the steps opens, and I mutter to myself. I don’t have time for another speech from Grayson. I pull harder at Dashiell’s hand; if he resists much more, I’ll end up breaking his wrist which I’d like to avoid, but I’ve run out of time.

“Violet?”

My head snaps up in surprise. Holly stares at me, expression shifting from shock to anger, her face paler than ever. “What are you doing to Dash?”

“Dashiell!” I yank at him, panicking, but this could be a blessing and persuade Dashiell to cooperate. “Hurry before Holly tries to join us.”

“How dare you! I knew you were up to something!” Holly pulls a knife from her pocket. “I took one from the kitchen in case I needed to defend myself after you all leave! Looks like it’s useful now.”

I’m arrested at the sight as Holly holds the point to a trembling finger, squeezing her eyes closed in anticipation of the cut.

No. No. “Dashiell. Put your hand in the circle. Now. Before she joins us.”

“No, Dash. Make Violet wait!” Holly pleads, as I speak the incantation at speed.

“Tell the others!” Dashiell urges Holly. “Stay back!”

With the magic invocation complete, I’ve no chance of stopping the ritual. Even if I took my hand away, the spell wouldn’t remove the other people tied to the runes. Dashiell would disappear—without me.

“You’re not taking Dash, Violet!” Holly shouts and lurches towards us.

As the familiar rush of blackness engulfs me, I shout Holly’s name in furious despair when I feel her hand cover mine.

43

VIOLET

The early sunshine filters through the tall tree canopies, and the damp morning chill touches my face. I stem the bleeding, kneeling in the muddy ground, all senses focused on detecting any supernatural presences. None. Not even Grayson and Rowan. Yet.

We’re at the edge of the clearing Viktor asked we meet in, far enough from the open to remain hidden from view. The witch will sense us if he’s nearby, but then so will I sense him.

But I have another problem.

Dashiell sits close by, pale-faced and perspiring, disorientated by the spell, but I barely notice him. Instead, I spin around, looking for the intruder. Holly rests against a trunk, her breath coming in short bursts, the tears still wet on her cheeks. Anger and fear meld together as I stare down at Holly. What has she done?

She looks at me warily and pulls her index finger from her mouth. “Don’t be mad,” she whispers.

“Mad? I’m furious!” I hiss. “I worried that the guys would follow too soon, but at least they could protect themselves! I’m meeting Viktor, and he told me not to bring anybody apart from Dashiell, Holly.”

“I doubt I count,” she says. “He’s only worried about powerful people.”

Her voice cracks, tears welling in her eyes again. Powerful people: not weak ones easily preyed on by witches.

“What the hell is happening?” asks Dashiell hoarsely. “What do you mean Viktor told you not to bring anyone? Isn't the idea that we all take the witch down?”

I look away. “Yes.”

“I’m confused why you decided to bring me without…” Dashiell trails off. “Shit. No way.” I prepare for him to shift forms, readying myself to pin Dashiell down before that can happen, but his eyes are on Holly. “Shit,” he repeats.

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