Page 101 of Midnight Auto Parts

Had the Morgans possessed an ounce of divine blood, we couldn’t have broken through. The only hope we had now was that their inability to kindle the bones’ full potential meant we had a chance.

“I agree.” One of the women took position behind the first stick. “This is insane.”

“Insanely cool,” another of the women enthused. “A cursed item really did this?”

“Those details are classified,” Carter said in a sharp tone. “The anchors aren’t present, so they don’t matter.”

“Oh, they matter.” Smiley Guy grinned at her. “But we’ll save that for if this doesn’t work.”

A pulse of dread hit me in the chest. “Do you think you can do it?”

“I guess we’re about to find out.” He chuckled. “Step back, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” the first woman scoffed at his high-handedness. “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“We womenfolk are so delicate,” the second woman chimed in. “A stiff breeze could shatter us.”

“Focus on the job,” the second guy barked, “not the idiot.”

As the witches fell in line, joining hands to begin their work, Kierce stepped up beside me.

“He called you sweetheart.” His expression shaded toward consideration. “I don’t like him.”

“I don’t like him either.” I lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “But we need him.”

A rumble left his chest, coating his next words in lethal potential. “Do we?”

That was when I noticed the guy was staring at me. Oh. Actually. Not me. Kierce. And it appeared he liked what he saw. Not that I could blame him. “Maybe not.”

The shift in my perspective caught Kierce off-guard until he registered the reason for it.

Once certain the witch wasn’t eyeballing me, Kierce resumed watching the ward, waiting for it to break.

“You’re hot and bothered if he’s looking at me, but he can look all he likes at you?”

“I don’t care if he looks at me.” A curious light had entered his eyes. “Do you?”

Before I could turn his earlier jealousy around on him, a wave of sharp energy struck me. As I stumbled back, I sucked in a breath. Two of the witches were unconscious. The other three stood dazed from the impact.

Around us, the trees had lost leaves and branches. Even entire limbs. But the surge hadn’t felt that strong.

“Kierce?” I ran my gaze over him, checking for injuries, but he hadn’t so much as rocked on his feet. “We have two witches down.” I pointed toward the tent. “Find Carter. Tell her to send EMTs.”

Until Harrow reentered my life, setting off a chain reaction, I hadn’t required more than practical wound care. As in pouring peroxide over Josie’s skinned knee or wiping antibiotic ointmentover Matty’s cut toe before wrapping it in a superhero bandage. That sort of thing.

Post-Harrow, or maybe it was fairer to say post-Ankou, I had considered taking a first-aid class. Or three.

That knowledge would have done me good right about now when I had no clue what to do for either the witch with the laceration across her forehead or the one with a visible break in his wrist. The best I could do was sit with them, in case the attempt brought Anunit running, and pray I could protect them if it did.

Five long minutes after the blowback, the crunch of boots on leaves heralded the arrival of the medics.

Carter was among them, a minor cut on her cheek that sealed itself as I watched her fae healing kick in.

She came straight for me, looked me over, then demanded, “What the hell happened?”

“I showed them where to strike, and they did. There was some kind of rebound.”

Leaning around me, she pleated her forehead. “Kierce, you okay over there?”

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