Page 312 of Castings & Curses

I fix my focus on Bella, trying to reach her over the limbs and lifeless bodies, but a humming insinuates itself in my ears, a low rumble, like a hive of bumblebees coming to life. Pressure builds in my head; my feet become numb, and I buckle down on my knees. I strain to lift my head. Bella hovers over the ground ahead of me. She’s choking. I fight the tension to check on Nola. She’s holding her head in a fetal position on the ground. Fuck the fuck fuck fuck. What’s happening now?

The humming has turned into clear chanting, and I realize Gwideon is back and advancing on Bella, his right hand forming the chokehold trapping my friend from afar. Now that he has her in his power, he pats her head and flatters her maw like she’s a good dog. The blood boils in my veins, but I can’t move.

“Ah, Bella. Bella, Bella, Bella. Look at the mess you made. Bad girl.” The warlock slaps the gasping creature. “Maybe I should have killed you then. The curse was a nice touch, tough. It was fun, wasn’t it? It was for me.” He sneers, showing his teeth like he’s going to bite her. His eyes glow amethyst, like that night when he was performing the ritual.

I free my head enough to check the altar standing a few feet away from me. Everything went so fast; I didn’t think about it before. But there it is, shining in the torchlight, embedded in the stone sarcophagus: the knife Gwideon Malevant was going to use on that poor girl that night. Did he kill her? I chase the thought away; I need to focus on us, now.

The warlock rambles on, but I gather all my strength and attention to move towards the altar. I need that knife. I’m not dying without a fight. Fuck no! I crawl as fast as I can—inch after inch—always fighting this fucking pressure to check the asshole’s not aware of me. He’s too busy licking Bella’s fur for now. Yuk. But good for me. His sick games are taking the pressure away and I creep faster. I grab the knife. Gwideon’s back is on me. I’m gonna slash his fucking throat and get it all over with. He’s so engrossed in his disgusting power parade, he doesn’t even sense me.

I stab him right between the shoulder blades.

CHAPTER18

Time stops.My breathing hitches. Silence prevails.

Why is he not screaming in agony? He’s not moving, but his stillness resembles the quiet before a storm, when the waves become suddenly motionless. That’s when you know you’re in deep shit.

A slumping sound lets me know Gwideon has released his grip on Bella. There’s that at least. He turns around in slow, deliberate motion, growing anger radiating through his entire being.

“You little rat,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “I will eat your heart raw!”

Gwideon lunges at me and grabs my hair. The searing pain yanks a scream out of my throat, and I see white for a second. His fist connects with my jaw, and I’m on the ground before I can even defend myself. He towers over me and grabs the knife in his back with both hands raised over his head. He grimaces with barely an inkling of pain crossing his features, as if the effort it takes to remove the bloody weapon was worse than the inflicted wound.

“You little bitch,” he snarls, brandishing the vicious blade under my nose. His amethyst eyes shine with vengeance. “I was going to take my time with you, enjoy your big fat arse for a while. But you’re getting on my nerves, so… bye-bye now.”

He lifts the knife over his head, ready to plunge it into my heart, but I roll to the side in the nick of time. I scramble on my feet as the warlock hits the floor and curses.

“Come back here, you little slut!”

He runs after me and grabs my rolls. I yelp and turn around just in time to see the blade slashing at me. I duck, but it’s too late. The metal bites above my nose and down my cheek. Hot, viscous wetness trickles in my mouth, filling it with iron wine. I gurgle, gagging on my blood.

Gwideon comes back, a vicious grin uncovering all his teeth. They look jagged, spikey. His amethyst eyes glow around slitted pupils, and his entire face appears more angular, with sharp edges and bony cheeks. He’s a fucking demon, and he’s lunging at me, mouth wide open, trading the knife for his own set of prickly weapons. He aims to rip my throat off, I’m sure.

I close my eyes and raise my arms in front of my face in a weak attempt at defending myself. Strength and courage have fled for good. I know my fate has found me. There’s nothing I can do against this monster. Tears trickle down my blood-free cheek and mingle with the liquid of life in my mouth. I think of Bella one last time, her golden locks, the sapphire gems she calls eyes, her soft, silky skin. I could have loved her. I did. I do.

The vilest sound hits my ears as a thick, sticky liquid splashes my face. Curt but meaty. Flesh ripping, sinews snapping, and bone crushing, all at once. I crack my eyelids open when I realize the pain I was bracing for is not coming. Just in time to watch the headless body of Gwideon Malevant tumble to the ground. In front of me stands Bella, her beastly body crumpling and heaving, tongue lolling out of her maw, panting. The claws of her right paw are drenched in black ooze, the same liquid now pooling at my feet. The warlock’s blood. The monster is dead.

I slide to my knees to break Bella’s fall. She slumps on me, and I embrace her. She’s still a beast in appearance, but the frailty of her human body has transcended the strength of the creature. She wheezes, and I check to see if she’s hurt anywhere. I find no blood of hers.

Nola approaches warily. “Is it—she okay?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, panic seeping through my hoarse voice. “I can’t find any apparent wound, but he went harder with her than he did me, and my throat still hurts like shit.” The last words are barely audible. My pipes burn like hell, and breathing doesn’t come easy anymore.

Nola wraps her arms around herself and glances around, disgust and despair stretching her mouth and brow. “Can we get out of this hellhole, please?”

She helps me lift Bella, and we make our way back out of the tunnel and the mansion. The shining sun blinds us, but its warmth replenishes my soul. I’m alive. We’re alive. The monster is dead, but the beast remains. She knew it. She knew the curse would outlive the warlock who cast it. I search for her stare, but she avoids mine. She was defeated before, now she has completely given up.

“Bella?” I help her sit in the grass, hoping the sunrays would insufflate some hope into her, but she just gazes vacantly at the ground.

Nola checks the surroundings. “Ah. Wait for me. I’ll be back in a sec.” She marches away, confidence leading her steps again. She’ll be ok, I know it. Bella, on the other hand…

I lean my head against her neck. Her erratic wheezing seems appeased, but there’s a gurgle underneath that doesn’t bode well. She remains motionless, as if she’s not even aware of my presence.

A black Porsche grinds to a halt next to us and I start. What fresh hell has found us? But it’s just Nola.

“Hop in! Let’s find a hospital. You need stitches, love. That’s gonna leave a serious scar.”

I spot my reflection in the window and wince. Inky splashes and a dash of dried blood cover my mouth and chin. Fresh carmine liquid still trickles from the gash across my face. A giant bruise in the form of a triceratops—how oddly specific—colors the other cheek, too.

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