Page 62 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love
Donatello’s next breath came wrong.Shallow.Out of sync.But he had no time for despair, her chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths.She was alive—barely.He had to move fast.
Donatello positioned himself behind a pile of discarded pallets, close enough to ensure the net wouldn’t miss, but concealed from the lich’s direct line of sight.With trembling fingers, he activated the containment sphere.It hummed to life in his palm as the runes etched into its surface glowed with a soft blue light.
One chance.That’s all they had.
He rose to his full height, ignoring the protest of his wounded side, and hurled the sphere at Graves.
Time slowed as the globe arched through the air, its arc perfect, its trajectory unwavering.It struck the ground at Graves’s feet and erupted in a flash of blinding white light.The lich’s head jerked up, those terrible glowing eyes widening in surprise as strands of luminous energy shot upward and tightened around him.
The tendrils connecting him to Sarah Michelle were caught in the net and snapped like cut strings, dissipating into wisps of shadow.
A shriek tore from Graves’s throat—a sound no human vocal cords could produce, the screech of metal being torn and twisted beyond its limit.The net constricted, recognizing his death magic and homing in on it, wrapping itself tighter and tighter around the lich’s form.
Graves thrashed within the energy cage, his body contorting in ways that defied human anatomy.His eyes locked onto Donatello, burning with hatred so pure it was tangible.
“You,” the lich hissed, his voice a symphony of discordant whispers layered atop one another.“I’ll enjoy sucking the heroics out of you, Detective Malatesta.”
Donatello ignored the taunt, already moving toward Sarah Michelle.He dropped to his knees beside her, the impact sending fresh waves of agony through his wounded side.He gathered her into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he checked for a pulse.
It was faint and thready, but present.His vision swam and his knees nearly buckled with relief.
“Sarah Michelle.Can you hear me?”
No response.Her head lolled over his arm, pale hair spilling across his hand where raven strands used to be.Donatello fumbled for his radio, praying it had survived the attack.
The device crackled to life when he pressed the transmit button.Hexing, yeah!
“This is Detective Malatesta.”His voice was strained but clear.“Eastern perimeter.Officer down.I need a magimedic team.”He paused, glancing at the contained lich, who continued to writhe and shriek within the energy net.“And backup.The target is secured but hostile.”
“Copy that, detective,” came the immediate response.“Medical team is en route.ETA three minutes.Containment unit right behind them.”
“Tell them to hurry,” Donatello urged.“Officer Callidora is critical.”
He set the radio down and checked Sarah Michelle’s pulse again.Still there, but weaker now.Whatever the lich had done to her, it was continuing to drain her even after the connection had been severed.
“Stay with me, Callidora.”He brushed the pale strands of hair from her face.“Help is coming.Hold on.”
In the containment net, Graves had gone eerily still, those terrible eyes fixed on Donatello with calculating malice.
“You’re too late.”His voice was both a whisper and a shout.“I’ve taken all that made her special.The body is a shell now.”
“Shut up,” Donatello snarled.
“I can smell your fear, detective.”Graves’s tone was conversational, despite the inhuman quality of his voice.“And your pain.”His head tilted at an unnatural angle.“You’ll taste even better.”
Before Donatello could respond, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.Red and blue lights strobed on the alley walls as vehicles screeched to a halt at the entrance.Heavy boots pounded on concrete as the feds poured in, weapons raised, followed closely by a magimedic team in white uniforms.
“Here!”Donatello called out, waving an arm to guide them.
The agents surrounded the contained lich, their faces grim behind tactical visors.Agent Zane—having survived the initial attack—approached, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene.
“Great work, detective.”He nodded at the containment net.“We’ll take it from here.”
Donatello barely registered the words.His attention was on the magimedics now crouching beside him, their hands moving in practiced motions as they assessed Sarah Michelle’s condition.
“She’s hanging by a thread,” one of them said.“We need to get her to the hospital.”
“Will she—” Donatello couldn’t finish the question.
