Page 29 of The Monsters We Are

Vera froze, her lips parting.

Wynter smiled. “Well, hello.” Her monster charged forward, and everything once more went dark.

Chapter Seven

Wynter woke with a groan and blinked hard a few times. A purple night sky streaked with thick clouds came into focus, and she became aware that she was indignantly splayed out in the grass.

The back of her head throbbed a little, which could no doubt be courtesy of her hitting the ground when she passed out. One side of her face burned in a way that told her Kali’s mark was now visible—at least temporarily.

No other part of Wynter’s body hurt, so she didn’t think she’d been injured when her monster took over. Thankfully, that was usually the case.

She didn’t always fall unconscious when the entity withdrew. Sometimes she simply “jolted” back to herself. Maybe it was dependent on how long her monster was in control, or maybe it was dependent on Wynter’s physical condition at the time—she really had no clue.

Sitting upright, she took in the scene with a grimace. There was a lot of blood. It discolored the soil, dotted the blades of grass, and left slashing marks on the trees. All that was left of the witches were the occasional chewed limb, half a torso, and a severed head.

Lovely. And not an uncommon sight in such instances.

Her monster had a tendency to eat its enemies alive when it attacked. And it gave few fucks about what kind of mess it left in its wake. Which was when Anabel’s special evidence-ridding brews came in handy. They were stronger and more fast-acting than any bleach.

Wynter took stock of herself as she stood. No wounds, just as she’d suspected. But there was plenty of crimson splatter on her clothes and skin. Also some bits of flesh and guts.

Her scalp was wet and itchy. She didn’t need to reach up and touch her hair to know that it was streaked with blood. Awesome.

Her head whipped to the side as she sensed people bearing down on her. Her coven, she quickly realized.

“Are you okay?” asked Delilah.

Wynter grunted. “Never better.”

“It took us a few minutes to realize you’d been taken,” said Anabel. “We just thought we’d lost you somewhere in the maze. We tracked you this far, but then we heard your monster when we got close. We decided to stay out of the way and let it take care of business.”

“Good call,” said Wynter, cricking her neck.

Settling her hands on her hips, Anabel sighed. “You know, you all really need to listen to me when I say that death stalks us. It’s not a difficult concept to grasp, people.” She raked her gaze over Wynter. “Do you have any of my healing potions with you?”

“Yes, but none of this blood is mine.” Wynter looked at what was left of the bodies. “They didn’t hurt me. They knocked me out with sleeping dust.”

Honestly, she was kind of insulted that they’d thought it would be enough to incapacitate her for longer than a few minutes. But then, they’d insisted on believing that she was simply a good ole regular witch. That was their mistake, and she supposed she should be glad they’d made it. Not that they would have otherwise gotten her to Aeon. Neither Wynter nor her monster would have allowed that.

Xavier circled their remains. “I recognize that head. It’s the Oasis Coven, huh?”

“Yup.” Wynter scratched at her sticky scalp, and a small meaty blob plopped to the ground. Nice. “Kyra grabbed me while I was in the maze. She blew powder in my face before I had the chance to react. I went out like a light. I don’t think I was out for long, because I wasn’t far from all the activity when I woke up to find that I was being dragged off by Missy. They had a car waiting outside the tunnel, apparently.”

“So theywerein cahoots with Demetria?” asked Delilah.

“No, it seemed that they wanted to avenge her death.”

Humming to herself, Hattie began pulling fragments of bone and brain matter out of Wynter’s hair as casually as if they were blades of grass. “They meant to hand you over to Adam, I’m guessing,” said Hattie.

Wynter nodded. “That was their idiotic plan.”

The old woman sneered at the dismembered corpses. “Then they deserved what they got.”

Anabel pulled out a vial. “Here, let me clean your clothes.” She splashed the vial’s contents over Wynter’s tee and jeans. The blood gradually faded like, well, magick. The blonde’s nose wrinkled. “I can’t pour it over your hair unless you want it bleached white.”

“Thanks, but no,” said Wynter.

“If it helps,” began Xavier, “a lot of people have poured fake blood on themselves for the street party, so I don’t think you’ll stand out too much when we’re walking home.”

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