Page 63 of Cruel Alpha Beast
“When the willow is afire, wash it down with your desire,” I recite.
The woman screams out, clearly trying to intimidate us, even though it’s clear we have her over a barrel. I could feel sorry for her, if only she weren’t a murderous witch trying to destroy mine and Lacey’s kinds.
Just as Willow lunges forward toward us, she stumbles forward, falling forward as if she’d tripped on a hole in the ground. When she steadies herself, I see that Willow has disappeared, and a young woman with a strawberry blonde braid has taken over again. She looks terrified, her eyes wide as saucers when she staggers toward my wife.
“Lacey, please,” Violet begs. “I didn’t mean to—I woke up by the tree—I wasn’t in control.”
“I believe you,” Lacey says. “This isn’t your fault.”
“You have to kill me,” Violet adds. “Kill me before she comes back! Before she kills you all!”
“I can’t,” Lacey whispers back. “W-we’ll figure out a way to save you!”
“There is no way.” Violet moans, holding onto her stomach like she’s going to be sick. “Kill me now! I can’t hold her off much longer!”
I reach down for the knife she discarded after killing me, and without a second thought, I toss it as hard as I can toward the girl, hoping to catch her somewhere vital—somewhere quick.
But before the blade can plunge into Violet’s soft flesh, she frees her hands from her stomach, fully Willow again. And Willow is much less clumsy than Violet. She catches the blade, dark red blood dripping from her fingers, but it does nothing to phase her. She drops the knife again and steps closer.
“Now you’re making meangry!” Willow screeches.
She clenches her fists, blood still pouring from her cut hand, and yells at the angry red sky. The remaining fire from the tree disappears within itself, reappearing out of Willow’s skin. Her clothes burn right off her body, but somehow, her hair stays intact.
Lacey squeezes my hand tightly, looking at me before saying, “I love you, Sawyer. I always have.”
“I love you, too,” I reply.
Willow is able to play with the fire, roasting her skin, creating a large dragon-like creature out of the flames.
“Now!” Lacey screams.
I don’t even know how I do it, but I’m able to channel the magic swirling around inside of me, and at the same time as Lacey, a large wave of water sprays out of our chests and crests onto Willow, obliterating her fire immediately.
Yowling in pain, Willow stumbles backward and is then sucked into the tree’s trunk before our eyes. Except it isn’t herbody; it’s more of a corporeal form, and the lifeless body of Violet falls to the ground.
The tree, once perfectly stable, shakes itself, and suddenly, crumbles to nothing but ash, leaving not even a stump in its wake. A lone plume of smoke lifts to the sky, which is rapidly losing its red tint, and all that’s left of Willow is her last scream, dissipating into the ether.
“It’s done,” Lacey says out loud. She steps forward and stares down at Violet’s limp form. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you. You deserved better.”
Before I can tell her we should get out of here, I sense something is off. I’m starting to feel pain again from the wounds the magic had just healed moments before.
“Lacey?” I call out, my voice weaker than I remember it being. “Something’s happening.”
She turns just in time to watch the two cuts on my face burst back open, as well as the slashes on my chest, and, even worse, the hole near my ribs.
By the time I’ve fallen to my knees, she’s already let out a mournful scream at the top of her lungs.
Chapter 27 - Lacey
Weak, but somehow still conscious, I walk alongside Sawyer as the witches levitate his body. He’s not dead yet, but he is out cold. I keep my eyes on him, ready to catch any signs that things are going south again.
I feel numb inside.
I’ve already thought I lost him once. I can’t lose him again.
On the other side of me, Danielle is doing her best to keep his wounds contained. She still hasn’t gotten healing magic fully mastered, but she’s getting there. At the very least, no new blood has leaked from his wounds, but they aren’t closing either.
Why couldn’t that magic have lasted? I wonder to myself. Why couldn’t it have saved him for good?
