Page 62 of The Witch's Heart
“This changes nothing. At the end of the day, you’re still a monster.”
He smiles blandly, but his next words are cut off as something slams into him from behind. He drops my hand, staggering sideways a single step before quickly recovering. Dark eyes blazing, he turns as Maria unleashes another blast of magic.
A chandelier rips free and crashes to the ground where Cutter just stood.
The music stops.
Maria utters words in a language I don’t understand. Something ancient that makes my earlier vision of the bloody heart flash before my eyes.
Behind her, and all around us, spirits reappear.
Maria raises a hand and points at Cutter, still chanting. A chair lifts off the floor and breaks into pieces. One of the legs flies at Cutter, its pointed end aimed at his chest.
Cutter catches it in midair before it can impale him. He tosses the wood away and snarls at Maria.
Her eyes glaze softly yellow, but whatever she’s preparing for next is cut short. Cutter closes the distance, moving faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.
Maria shrieks as Cutter’s fist slams through her body and into her chest. He rips it free with Maria’s heart gripped in his hand. It pumps for another beat, blood running in thick rivulets down Cutter’s wrist and onto the floor.
Maria’s eyes are wide and frozen, and then she falls, crumpling to the floor in a heap of gown and blood.
No one else speaks as Cutter roars, biting into the heart and ripping off a chunk that he chews and swallows.
Disgust and horror root me where I stand.
Cutter glares hard at the rest of us, holding up what’s left of Maria’s heart. “This is what happens to those who dare attack me. Remember it. And do not make the same mistake as your friend.”
14
My blood runs cold at the sight of Maria's half-eaten heart clutched in Cutter's hand.
She lies at his feet, a tangle of limbs, her gray-streaked hair flared out behind her like a mermaid underwater, a macabre kind of beauty.
I turn away and vomit, emptying the fancy food and drink I filled my stomach with onto the marble floor. Dean and Declan flank me, both shifting into wolf form as Dr. Livingstone materializes beside me. He slips his arm around my waist, steadying me.
The band has disappeared, the room falling silent in the horror of it all. I glance to Nurse Schmidt who looks a bit green as she steadies herself by a table, the lustrousness of the ballroom fading as she loses control of her illusion magic.
Tables previously laden with delicious food are now covered in rot, flies buzzing above them. The lustrous decorations are now replaced with cobwebs and grime.
A rancid taste replaces the sweet fizz of the champagne in my mouth as the shiny veneer of this evening of lies slips off, revealing the ugly truth beneath.
I grip the doctor’s arm, my nails digging into his flesh as I steel myself against my own impotent rage.
"Careful," he whispers.
I look up and see his teeth sharpened and ready, his eyes hard and deadly, and I wonder if he's talking to me, or himself.
On either side of me, Dean and Declan bare their teeth, growls rising from their chests as other werewolves in the room shift and the vampires are overtaken with bloodlust at the sight of Maria.
Blood drips from Cutter's mouth and he smiles, revealing teeth tinged in red, daring any one of us to make a move against him.
I feel my own magic rise up inside me, pulsing with a throbbing ache that only worsens the longer I ignore it. Sparks dance on my fingertips and Dean nudges my hand, his furry form absorbing some of the pent-up power in me begging for release.
Around us, ghosts flicker in, their voices amplifying in a horrified cacophony of screams as they collectively clutch at their own chests.
He steals he takes he eats us alive.
Behave.
