Page 104 of A Resistance of Witches

It was as if someone had detonated a bomb. Ursula was thrown into the air, witches tossed in every direction by the force of the attack. Fiona curled into a ball as debris fell around her. Lydia returned to her body with a violent jolt, the power of theGrimorium Bellumraging through her veins like molten metal. Itburned, and for a moment she was helpless, writhing in agony.

Fiona groaned and raised herself to her hands and knees. Ursula’s discarded pistol lay in the dirt, just out of arm’s reach. Her eyes widened and she scrambled toward the gun. Across the room, one of Ursula’s soldiers raised herself to her feet and spoke a word in a strange tongue. As Fiona reached for the pistol, it flew away from her straining fingers, into the hand of the German witch. The witch aimed and fired.

The bullet tore through Fiona’s shoulder, the impact sending her reeling backward into the dirt. The second bullet hit her in the side, and blood exploded through her white silk blouse. She screamed in rage and pain as the witch stepped closer and aimed a third time, leveling the pistol at her head.

No, Lydia thought as theGrimorium Bellumburned through her, helpless to do anything but watch.No, please, no.

The smell of ozone filled the air. The witch fired twice, hitting dirt both times. Fiona had disappeared into the ether, leaving nothing behind her but a bloody stain.

“Scheiße!” the witch screamed.

The searing pain ebbed away, and Lydia felt theGrimorium Bellumsettling in her blood, acclimating her to its power. It didn’t want to hurt her, she realized with a hideous thrill. They were one now.

Lydia’s eyes cleared. She looked at the pool of blood, turning black as it seeped into the dirt. She looked at the witch, and at the gun. The witch raised the pistol and aimed.

“Slaepna fae,” Lydia said, and the witch’s eyes rolled back in her head as she fell to the ground, unconscious.

The thunderstorm smell dissipated. Lydia looked at the dark stain where Fiona had lain just a moment before. There was so much blood. She wondered where Fiona had escaped to. She hoped she’d gone back to Evelyn’s flat. Evelyn would know what to do.

“Enough of this,” Ursula said. The mocking smile had disappeared from her face, leaving only a hard red line. Three witches stood by her side. She raised her hand and made a sign in the air, calling out a word of power Lydia had never heard before. The three soldier-witches echoed her call. Lydia opened her mouth to counter, but too late.

The air left her lungs in a rush, and she was thrown to the ground. She could feel her hands grasping the book, but they felt as if they belonged to someone else. Darkness crept at her vision. The power of theGrimorium Bellumthrashed in her veins, enraged at being constrained.

She watched as Ursula retrieved her gun.

“Bring me the others.” She said it in English, as if for Lydia’s benefit.

Lydia struggled with every ounce of her power against the spell that held her. She drew from the book, pulling its magic deeper into herself, but it was no use—even with the power of theGrimorium Bellum, she was no match for four witches working a single spell in tandem. Not if she wanted to survive the effort.

Somewhere in the dark recesses of the barn, she heard a struggle—a grunt from Henry, Rebecca’s garbled shout, then angry curses in German, before Lydia recognized the sizzle of hex words on the air. A moment later, Rebecca and Henry were thrown to the dirt beside her. Lydia noticed blood on one witch’s face, and more under Rebecca’s fingernails.

Ursula crouched before her. The smile had returned.

“You should have considered my offer. You could have saved yourself. And your friends.” Ursula’s fingers hovered over theGrimorium Bellum,still clutched tightly in Lydia’s grip. “Now you’re going to watch them die. And for what? Nothing.”

She reached for the book. It slipped from Lydia’s hands easily, and Ursula stood, holding the book high, triumphant. Lydia watched as Ursula took one step, then another. She felt the cord between herself and the book grow taut. Ursula tilted her head as if hearing some distant sound.

“Was ist das—” Then her words were cut short. She began to choke. Ursula’s free hand went to her throat, clawing wildly, her fingernails leaving red welts on her skin. Her mouth hung open in terror, eyes wide, as one side of her face began to go slack.

“Ursula?” One of the witches took a step forward, but Ursula stumbled away from her. Her skin began to go purple, livid bruises appearing at her temples and around her eyes. She retched and gagged, clawing with both hands now, finally dropping the book, which landed in the dirt with a thud.

“Don’t touch it!” she gasped. The color returned to her face, the bruises faded, but the raised, red claw marks on her neck remained. She looked at Lydia, pure rage contorting her features. “What did you do?” She crossed the distance between them in an instant, grabbing Lydia and shaking her hard. The spell broke, and air rushed into Lydia’s lungs.“What did you do?”

Lydia’s vision began to clear. She looked to Henry and Rebecca on either side of her. They were both dazed, battered and bruised, but the sight of them gave her strength.

“It’s a grimoire,” she said, once she’d regained her voice. “Now it’smygrimoire.”

She saw that Ursula understood. Slowly, Ursula got to her feet.

“I’ll kill you,” she whispered.

“By all means,” Lydia said. “But you’ll only destroy the book in the process.”

Ursula shrieked in outrage, a high-pitched animal scream that madeeven the other members of her own coven recoil. Lydia tried to steady herself, working to summon the power for some spell that might save her, save her friends, but the lingering effects of the battle hex had left her weakened. Ursula turned her attention to Rebecca and Henry, eyes wild.

“Ingrid.”

A witch stepped forward. She was older than Ursula, mean looking and famine thin. She smiled down on the three huddled figures kneeling in the dirt before her.

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