Page 65 of An Amateur Witch's Guide to Murder
“Almost done,” Ethan soothes, his face a mask of blood and sweat and Mateo realizes Ethan’s been muttering something the whole time.
He tries to focus on Ethan’s mouth, but the words are nonsense, a language he doesn’t know. Latin, if he had to guess, because Latin feels like the right flavor for Ethan’s magic.
Muttering turns to chanting, and it’s like they’ve both spent the last hour in socks sliding around a carpet, hairs standing on end and the air charged. If this gets the demon out, he’ll owe Ethan his whole life. Which will be awkward since Ethan is definitely an asshole and a murderer.
These concerns are washed away as Ethan’s chanting gets louder, the dagger glowing, the intricate pattern carved into the blade giving off a red light. In concert with the blade, the symbols on both Ethan and Mateo’s chests also glow. On Mateo, the half-healed cuts heat with renewed intensity and reopen.
Ethan raises the knife in a veryabout to stabway, eyes sheened with the same glow as his blade and all Mateo can do is scream.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The blade hovers, Ethan’s eyes searching … and then they just sort of keep searching. And they’re staring at each other. And Mateo’s scream flags and then stops because he can’t scream that long.
No stabbing.
No more magic words.
Ethan looks mystified.
“Not that I want you to stab me, but what’s happening?” Mateo asks shakily, voice raw.
Ethan lowers the dagger, squinting at Mateo’s eyes and then at the symbol he’d carved into his chest. The magic heating Mateo’s chest is dull now, so whatever had reignited the pain is already wearing off, leaving only an inflamed ache and blood mess in its wake.
“I don’t know,” Ethan says, staring at his own cool chest cuts, and Mateo realizes he’s double checking his work. He even slips a phone out of his back pocket, turns the camera around, and checks his magic blood face paint. “It … didn’t work?”
“Are you asking me? If so, that’s extremely bad!” Mateo might be shrieking. He honestly can’t tell. Some emotion lodges in Mateo’s chest—underneath what is still a lot of pain. Anger? Disappointment? Relief? That last one rings the loudest in his brain and is the most alien to his actual wants and needs, so he maybe starts freaking out a little bit.
Ethan looks around, checking the magic circle on the floor of his murder basement. “I don’t get it,” he says slowly, in no hurry to deal with Mateo’s upset, but his gaze does eventually return to the person he’s sitting on that he just cut up a bunch. “That should expel it. That’s always worked before.” He puts his phone back into his pocket and sets his dagger down beside their legs on the table before running both hands down Mateo’s chest indelicately.
The slashes are no longer slashes, only red welts, but it’s all still raw, and Mateo grits his still very human teeth in pain.
“Do you know anything about what’s possessed you?” Ethan finally asks.
“Not really.” There’s no reason to be coy when the situation hasn’t changed. Strapped to a table. Maybe this guy can help. Or maybe this guy’s going to murder him in a minute here. “My mom did it when I was a baby. It’s not something I remember.”
“Your mom?” Ethan repeats, bemused as he settles on Mateo’s thighs, seemingly not prepared to get off him yet. “She’s a witch? What order?”
“Uh, I don’t think she plays well with others.” Mateo’s not actually sure that’s true. She went missing a lot before the final time. She might have been running off to witch meetups. She might have been using Witch-Tinder. He’d never had any idea what she’d been doing.
“Borrero,” Ethan says slowly, and badly, and it’s clear he’s made a connection, summoned the name from some recess of his mind. “The Blood Witch?”
Ethan’s saying it like a proper title. Mateo’s never heard her called that before, but it would make sense. “I don’t know what other people call her. But I’d sure like you to let me up now.”
Ethan doesn’t let him up, eyes dithering as he falls into a contemplative silence that Mateo’s not loving. “I don’t think I will …” he finally says.
“You’re not going to get anything out of her,” Mateo says quickly, trying to counter whatever extortion plot Ethan’s just concocted. “She bounced five years ago, and before that, she barely cared if I lived or died.”
“I had shit parents too,” Ethan says, like whatever his deal was is comparable. Maybe it is. Mateo has no idea how someone becomes a stockbroker, let alone an evil wizard. “Don’t worry. I’d still rather have you than her.” This is the least good thing he could have said, but he says it with a hand on Mateo’s cheek, like he’s soothing him. “But knowing she did this changes things. I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard stories. I’ll show you to Marbas. He’ll know what she did. What it is. And how I can control it.”
Ethan starts to dismount, and Mateo struggles anew, the wordtithingblaring through his mind. “Ethan, wait! What are you going to do to get information?”
“It’s very noble that you’re giving this little job your all,” Ethan says, feet on the floor now so he leans over Mateo’s face. “But this is deep knowledge. You don’t get it for free. You know that’s how the world works. If it’s about the money, don’t worry. You don’t need Topher. I’m rich. I’ll mentor you once we get whatever’s inside of you under check. That transformation earlier. The healing. The blood. That’s power. That’s useful.”
“Here I thought you liked me for my personality,” Mateo says, still struggling uselessly but with a much more frantic edge. Fuckity fuck! He’s going to sacrifice Topher. Ethan can’t fathom Mateo wanting Topher alive for any reason other than getting paid—which might have been true a week ago but definitely isn’t now. “Isn’t Topher useful too? He makes luck.”
“I make my own luck,” Ethan says easily, leaning closer to speak softly. “I understand this is difficult for you. We’re all paying a price, okay? I’m going to waste my extremely hard-won tithings on you, so show a little gratitude and just let this happen.” He straightens. “Now, stay put.”
“Ethan! Wait!” Mateo yells, panicking, because that was a joke, and Ethan is one thousand percent stone-cold enough to ritually murder Topher.
