Chapter 25

"Quit your sniveling," the witch scolded herself, gritting her teeth as she brought shaking hands to her face to dab on makeup. Her brow was split and swollen from having her head slammed into metal bars, but the worst of it had come from her allies, not her enemies.

Dark, webbed lines crossed Stella's chest and face, the evidence of Armina's attempts to get information from her. Her entire body felt bruised, but like hell was she going to let them see her cry. They'd basically blamed her for letting Scarlett escape, as if she was responsible for an entire squad of vampires dropping on the house.

When she'd regained consciousness, she tried in vain to stop the vampires with one of her most powerful spells, a burst of sunlight that scorched their skin. But they were already outside, making their escape.

So she'd limped back inside and helped Marlee up, and they'd pawed through the house in search of supplies, weapons, and Lux's vampire puppets. An hour later, they'd found two headless vampires and no sign of Armina or Lux. While Marlee gathered her weapons, Stella had contacted Lux to get directions to the safehouse in the north Georgia mountains.

They'd made the drive, although Lux made her meet fifteen miles away at a truck stop and gave her the third degree before letting her come to the cabin. And after nearly blowing her brain up with magic and driving for hours through the mountains, Stella just wanted to sleep for two days straight.

Instead, Armina sat her down and grabbed her face and shoved her magic down Stella's gullet like a parasite. Hours of questions until she was satisfied that Stella hadn't done anything to free Scarlett or betray her.

Finally, she'd slept, but Lux had started banging around early that morning. Now the air in the cabin was electric with power, but it wasn't the steady, reassuring sensation that had filled their old home back in Charlotte. It was chaotic and unstable, as if a single spark would ignite the whole place.

Stella winced, then swore silently as she swiped powder foundation over her discolored cheeks. Who the hell was she even trying to impress?

She crept into the hall. Sitting on a stool at the end of the hall, Marlee kept watch outside the main bedroom. Armina was resting inside after completing her marking spells on Jordan Cole.

"Stella!" Lux snapped. "Get down here."

In the kitchen, Lux stood at the massive granite island with a laptop on one side and an ancient-looking grimoire on the other. The air crackled with power, and she slowly stirred her fingers through the air over a shimmering pool of shadow, as if stirring a dark liquid.

"I need blood from the vampire," the other witch snapped. "Go get it."

Her fingers twitched at her side. Lux treated her like an idiot child, but one snap of her fingers and Stella could burn her eyes out of their sockets.

Maybe.

"Feed him while you're down there. Until those idiots can bring us back more of the Durendal, he's all we've got," Lux said.

"You have bags?" Stella asked.

"You have a heartbeat. Call it farm to table." The other woman's dark eyes flitted to a sharp silver knife and flask at the edge of the island.

Stella sighed. "How much?"

"Fill it up," Lux replied.

After grabbing a dishtowel from the counter, Stella grabbed the knife and flask, then headed for the door to the basement.

Her heart pounded as she descended another set of stairs to the basement of the cabin. It was nicely furnished, with another living room that branched off to a bedroom and a laundry room. Sliding glass doors overlooked the woods.

Down here, the odor of vampire blood was thick and cloying, mixed with the musk of unwashed bodies. They were going to get hit with a hell of a cleanup fee if Armina wasn't careful.

The source of the smell was a young-looking vampire in jeans and a sweater that might have been light blue a few days ago. He was bound firmly to a metal chair with heavy chains, but they were probably just to kill the poor bastard's morale. Thick wooden stakes speared through his chest to weaken him, while an intricate chalk spell on a tarp beneath him—mixed with his own blood—would cage him in if he got free.

Just go get it and get out.

It wasn't the first time she'd drained a vampire. After Lux brought Shea into the house, she'd made Stella bleed him for her spells. Even when he was barely stitched together by magic and bandages, he'd spat crude curses at her the whole time. This one was younger, and much weaker thanks to the hunter who'd worked him over.

Armina was thoroughly displeased that the hunters only managed to bring one of the Durendal vampires back from Atlanta. Marlee had taken one down, but couldn't get to him before his partner got him to safety.

That left this one for whatever Lux was up to. The older witch wouldn't answer Stella's questions directly, but given what she'd been doing to Shea and his followers, it wasn't too hard to figure out. One of Julian's followers might give her a connection to him, making it easier for Ms. Voss to track him down, maybe even to make more puppets like Paige and Adrian.

At the sound of her footsteps, the captive vampire stirred. His head lifted, and soft blue-green eyes met hers. His brow furrowed. "You're a new one," he said. There was a faint lilt to his voice, with a hint of a British accent. "Don't suppose you want to let me go, do you?"

"I…" She was rooted to the ground. This would be much easier if he was unconscious. "I have to get blood from you."

"This golden goose is running dry, I'm afraid," he said with a little chuckle.

She dared to step closer, and his gaze lifted.

"That's a nasty cut you've got there. Smells a bit off." She frowned at him, but he was unfazed. A split lip tugged at his smile, rendering it slightly crooked. "No offense. You smell fine. But I'd keep an eye out for infection. Take a bit of my blood for yourself if you like."

"What?" she breathed.

"Vampire blood is good medicine for humans," he said. His head cocked. "Surely you know that."

"I, uh…"

He was breathtakingly handsome, as many vampires were, but that wasn't what had her so shocked. It took a lot more than a good-looking man to render her speechless. It was the sincerity that radiated from him like heat. His voice was warm and soothing, like chamomile tea.

It was probably a damn trick.

"If I drink your blood, you can control me," she said.

He laughed. "If I wasn't a bloody pincushion and you chugged a pint before sitting in my lap and gazing in my eyes, perhaps. Take it and drink it later. It'll be our little secret."

"Just be quiet," she said, trying to shake off her growing sense of unease at his civility. She hesitantly strode closer, then walked behind him. The blood-caked sleeves of his sweater were pushed up, revealing lean forearms. Criss-crossing gashes marked his flesh, swollen and red. "You should be healing faster."

His nose wrinkled, and his head tilted back like he was trying to see her. There was a nasty purple welt at his temple, as if he'd been struck. "That's what happens when you get cut open with wood and don't feed for a few days. Well, when I do," he said with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Stella," she said before she could catch herself. She did not need to make friends with the damned vampire.

"That's a lovely name. Stars in the night sky," he said.

She hesitated with the knife, eyeballing that vicious landscape of markings. Had this been Jordan or Lux's work? Was it worse to find new ground or to spare him another scar? And why the hell did she care about being careful?

"I'm Rhys," the man said.

No. He was a vampire. He was work, and nothing more. That kind smile didn't need a name.

"I don't care," she said. "Don't talk to me."

"Well, brusque introductions aside, you're still much better company than Mr. Cole," he said. "And I'm a social butterfly. Stella, I—" He hissed in pain as she sliced into one of the angry-looking cuts, letting his blood drip down into the flask. But instead of cursing at her like Shea, who'd managed to shock even her with his creative and thoroughly misogynist profanity, Rhys kept talking, his voice slightly pinched by pain. "I'm guessing she wants my blood to hurt Julian."

"I don't know," Stella lied. That made sense, though. If he was connected to Julian, his blood was incredibly useful.

"Quick heartbeat, Stella," Rhys said, fingers twitching. She held his hand firmly, guiding the trickle into the flask. "Why are you scared? It's not me that scares you."

"Be quiet," she said shakily.

"Stella!" Lux shouted from upstairs. "What the hell is taking so long?"

"You can blame it on me. Less blood means slower flow," Rhys said amiably. "What's she going to do about it? Stake me?"

The laugh escaped her before she could stop herself. Rhys chuckled, and she realized she'd nearly filled her flask. She carefully corked it, then pocketed the knife. As she backed away, she realized the man was pale as paper.

"I'm supposed to give you blood," she blurted.

His head tilted. "You don't look like you want to, but I wouldn't say no. It's been a few days since I've eaten, I think."

"Why are you so nice?" she asked.

"I've always prided myself on having a good bedside manner," he said wryly. "Being a prisoner hasn't changed that."

Despite his genial attitude, his pretty eyes went ruby red as she used the knife to cut into the fleshy heel of her left hand. Glinting white fangs descended over his chapped lips, and he leaned closer. His jaw ticked, and his tongue skimmed his teeth, and to her surprise, he carefully covered his teeth, placing his lips over the oozing cut on her palm instead of tearing into her.

Her instincts flared to life, magic crackling across her skin as her mind told her, Danger! You're bleeding!

But he let out a soft sigh—was it relief? pleasure?—that filled her with a strange, buzzing warmth. The pulling sensation ceased, and he turned away. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his eyes shone brilliant red when he looked up. High, feverish color bloomed on his pale cheeks.

"Back off," he said, still calm, but in a low, brusque tone. He leaned forward, teeth glinting. She yanked her hand back, and he shook himself. "I'm sorry. I'm very hungry, and it's hard to control."

She swiped her hand with the dishtowel, standing back from him.

He licked his lips, holding her gaze. "You're quite strong, aren't you?"

"No. I'm just an apprentice," she lied.

"A mask of modesty. Very clever." His smile faded. "Stella, I don't know the first thing about you, but I know what Armina Voss is capable of. She is going to kill Scarlett Ward. Do you know who that is?"

She nodded, but that made no sense. "Scarlett's like her daughter."

Rhys shrugged. "Do you think she's capable of it? And maybe a more pertinent question is…do you want to be a part of it?"

Stella froze. "You're right. You don't know anything about me."

"I know that you could have been cruel, but you weren't," he said.

"That's a pretty low bar."

He shrugged. "You're not wrong. What does that say about the company you keep if you're the first to meet it?' His brow furrowed. "Please let me go back to my family."

"I can't," she murmured.

She spun on her heel and raced for the stairs, heart pounding as she went up. After setting the flask on the counter, she carefully washed her hands, trying to push that soft-spoken, polite vampire out of her head.

Lux peered at the flask, then set it aside.

"Are you making stakes for Julian's followers? Like Paige and Adrian?" Stella asked.

The other witch looked up. "I need you to go get supplies." She turned back to her basin, stirring slowly. The air around her smelled of magic. And for some strange reason, she hated the idea of Lux pouring Rhys's blood into that mixture.

He was too nice for that.

"Did you hear my question?" she said. "What are you doing?"

"I gave you the answer you deserve," Lux said.

"You don't have to be so rude to me," Stella said hotly.

The other witch laughed, still staring down at her basin. "Are you under the impression that we're equals?" Her head jerked toward the door. "Supplies."

Heat tickled up Stella's spine. Lux wouldn't be so smug when Stella cracked her worktable in half with a snap of her fingers and sent that grimoire into the dark sludge she was stirring.

Instead, she took a deep breath and settled herself, the way she used to when her mother was on a bender. Alcohol, barely repressed rage, and magic were a bad mix. Sometimes it was better to swallow your pride and show your belly to live another day.

"Do you have a list?" she asked calmly.

Lux held up her phone and said, "Sending it now. Hurry back."

Heart pounding, Stella snatched her keys from the nearest counter, hurried out of the cabin, and practically leaped into her car before finally drawing a deep breath. She backed out of the gravel driveway, then pulled onto the curving mountain road. Spindly dark branches hung over the road, nearly devoid of their dried fall leaves.

"I should just go," she told herself. Just like Scarlett. As if Armina had heard her from a mile away, a shiver prickled down her spine. We don't think like that.

She knew what she was getting into, didn't she? When she'd tracked down the legendary—and infamous—Night Weaver, she'd known she was getting into dangerous territory. Not that she had much of a choice, but she understood she wasn't going to be brewing herbal teas and communing with the earth.

Still…she had thought there might be some sense of loyalty, given how hard she'd worked for Ms. Voss. And they'd just left her with a house full of vampires out for blood…

"Quit being a little bitch," she told herself, though it was Lux's voice she heard.

It wasn't Lux who'd gotten jumped by Scarlett and Julian, shoulder nearly torn out of socket, and face smashed into the bars to shut her up. It wasn't Lux who'd watched Julian Alcott fight Carrigan Shea and tear his head off like it was a doll's, and it wasn't Lux who'd nearly given herself a stroke trying to get Kova and Scarlett back into the house.

And even when she survived and gathered up some of Armina's books and supplies and made the drive to the mountains, Armina wasn't relieved to see her. There was no thank you for trying to recover that shitshow. Instead, she'd all but blamed Stella for the vampire raid.

Tears pricked at her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Yeah? Well, what the fuck else was she supposed to do? Scrape out a living and end up a loser like her mother? Maybe sell her neck to some hungry vampires and hope they didn't lose control? Hawk potions on the Internet and try not to get caught by the Grand Guild?

This was her life now, all three acts of the grand shitshow.

She took her time running errands, picking up groceries and first aid supplies. In the dark of night, Lux had traveled back to the house with Jordan to gather what remained of the workshop, but Armina's spellbooks had been ransacked, and the refrigerators had been unplugged, leaving the house smelling of decayed food and inert potions.

At least Stella had enough sense not to say I told you so, even though she'd been telling Armina and Lux for months that they should digitize all of Ms. Voss's print materials. One misfire in the workshop could destroy centuries of brilliant research.

They'd ignored her, but every time Ms. Voss let her use a book, Stella stayed up all night scanning it into her tablet. She wasn't taking that kind of risk even if they were.

And unbeknownst to either of them, Stella had helped herself to quite a few more when Ms. Voss was out of town or otherwise occupied.

Turned out she was right, same as she was right about not using Carrigan Shea as a puppet. He'd tried to turn on her the first chance he got.

But if she wanted the older witch's approval, an I told you so wasn't the way to get it. All she wanted was to learn Night Weaver magic. She had a powerful gift, but her mother had been a disgraced witch who stole from her mentor and embarrassed herself in front of the Grand Guild, and that meant Stella had no business seeking out the tutelage of the tisserande. Normal life was straight out of the question, so Armina Voss was the only answer if she wanted to learn magic and use the one gift she had to make a life for herself.

She didn't want to torment vampires or play games with Scarlett or do any of this crap. She just didn't want to be afraid anymore. She wanted to use her power with the same ease she wrote her name, like Armina did.

And that meant jumping through her hoops. That was tradition; find a powerful witch and learn from her. Lately, that meant spilling blood. It meant rolling up her sleeves and slicing open some innocent man because his blood would lead them to Armina's enemy.

Never let anything stand in your way, Armina told her. When your cause is righteous, there is nothing that should stop you.

Not even grown men pleading for their lives, apparently. Not a conscience screaming that he'd done nothing to hurt her, that this was wrong no matter how she lied to herself.Not a vampire who was drained nearly dry who managed to be nicer to her than anyone had been in ten years.

She shook off the unpleasant memories as she strolled the aisles of the grocery store, stocking her cart with the items from Lux's list. They didn't have the correct brand of tea bags, and she chose a suitable replacement even as she knew Lux would scoff at her selection.

At the end of the aisle, a young couple was closely examining coffee pods, and she overheard the man suggesting a toasted caramel. His partner teased him about his "girly coffee" before they both dissolved into laughter. After a light-hearted debate, they picked up a standard box and a box of "girly" coffee and rounded the corner.

As she stared at the box of tea bags for her furious mentor, she couldn't help thinking of the way Julian Alcott had stormed through that house. And stranger, how Scarlett had clearly trusted him.

They cared for each other.

What would it be like to have someone care for her in that way? She'd never experienced it; there was always an angle, always something for others to gain at her expense.

Her eyes stung, but she gritted her teeth, grabbed a plastic honey bear, and shoved her cart back down the aisle. Magic danced in her veins as her emotions roiled. She had to get herself under control if she was going to be of any use to Ms. Voss.

But as she pushed the full cart to the checkout, she had the traitorous thought: I don't want to be of use.

As if Lux and Armina could hear her stray thoughts, she clamped her lips shut and quickly unloaded all her items onto the conveyor belt. While the cashier in the shapeless blue vest scanned the items, her dark eyes kept flicking up to Stella, her brow furrowed. After weighing a bag of apples, she took out her phone.

Stella held back her annoyance; why couldn't she just finish the damn groceries before checking her texts?

But the woman slid her phone to the little counter holding the credit card machine and continued to swipe.

In an open note was a simple message:

Are you okay? Just ask for a price check and I'll call security.

Her heart pounded as she caught the woman's eyes, and her hand drifted to her cheek.

Her eyes. With spots of blood marring the whites and the barely concealed gash on her forehead, she looked like she'd been through hell.

Stella forced a smile and handed the phone back, pointedly ignoring the woman's message. After paying for her groceries, she waved off the offer of help from a bagger, then hurried out to load the car.

"Suck it up," she told herself again.

Soon enough this would be over. And if she made her exit from Armina's company…then so be it.

By the time she got back to the cabin, the sun was setting. She sat in the car, listening to the subtle hum as the engine died down and silence moved into the space. Her bag lay on the seat, containing her wallet and her tablet—the digital spellbook that documented centuries of Night Weaver knowledge.

"I could go," she reminded herself. She didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. Mom had taught her some hard lessons over the years, but that was a good one. Never let anyone force you to do something, and if they try, make sure they know not to do it again.

She tucked the bag under the seat, then stuffed the keys into her pocket before heading inside. Crossing the threshold sent a tingle up her spine, thanks to Lux's quick but powerful wards. Armina was sitting at the long dining table with a pad of paper in front of her, pages already filled with ink. Without a word, Stella put the stack of art notebooks in front of her, then opened the package of ink pens—her favorite kind—to put them at hand.

"I got the ones you like," she said quietly.

Armina grabbed a pen, opened the notebook, and began furiously sketching. Her eyes were void black, and there was an eerie whispering on the air. She was in a trance of sorts, diving into the stragulam fati. The apprentices were forbidden to do it so casually, requiring rituals and grounding elements before even beginning to touch it, but Armina had been doing this for centuries.

For all her trepidation, Stella marveled at watching the older woman work. The air around her shimmered like a mirage, and she caught glimpses of shadow around her, things moving just at the edge of her vision. Armina's power was unsettling, but there was no question that she was one of the most skilled witches in the world.

Dark lines slithered up her arms, as if she was drawing the shadows from around her, up into her body. Her lips moved silently, eyes fixed on some distant point. The atmosphere was charged, and Stella's skin crawled with the sensation of magic in the air.

Armina's head snapped back, then an inhuman growl rumbled in her throat. "You obey me," she said in a deep, booming voice. The shadows whipped around her, and for a moment, she was obscured from view. "Lux. The hunter."

"Jordan," Lux said sharply. Slow, ominous footsteps crescendoed down the hall of the main floor. The tall, wiry dhampir male strode across the living room, stopping short of Armina. The dark markings on his wrists and neck were still fresh and swollen, his eyes sunken.

"Kneel," Armina said, her lips curving in a smile as the man knelt. The show of power made Stella shudder internally. "I made you a deal, did I not?"

He nodded.

"When you prove that you're ready, I will give you all the bloodshed you want," Armina said, gently cupping the man's face. He stared up at her with a look of adoration in those blank eyes. This was not the same man who had walked into their house in Charlotte almost two weeks ago and stalked through the halls like a creepy shadow.

"The Shieldsmen speak of the Siege of Silberspitze as if it ended some hundred and fifty years ago. But I have never stopped fighting the Auberon, and I will see their destruction," she said. "Be brave, Jordan."

He nodded. "Yes, Ms. Voss."

Her long, ringed fingers spread over his face, and he went rigid. The very air seemed to split, and oily shadow poured from the seam and over Jordan's lips, down his throat. He shook violently but never tried to break free, never tried to escape Armina's grasp.

As that dark energy poured into him, Stella took a step back. Dark lines bulged beneath his skin, as if whatever Armina had just shoved into him was thrashing around inside.

Stella knew the feeling, though it had been much less violent for her. The only way to master the Weave was to take it in, to draw part of that sentient power into herself. It took months for it to quiet, creating a sort of magical instinct that guided her.

Armina kissed his forehead, then released him. He stood slowly, but as he did, Armina staggered. The intense smell of wood smoke surged through the air, tinged with something Stella didn't recognize. It made her uneasy, like hearing scratching at the window past midnight.

Jordan reached for her, but Lux said, "No. Let me." Shadow materialized like threads around her hands as Lux wove a quick spell to ground herself, then grabbed Armina.

"Let go," she said firmly. Armina pulled against her, but Lux snapped her head up and said to Stella, "Help me."

What kind of company do you keep?

Stella nodded, following suit to weave a grounding spell that settled on her skin like cool silk threads. When she took Armina's other arm, power sizzled through her like lightning, and those strange whispers became shouts. Diving into the Weave was often tumultuous, but this felt like stepping into a hurricane.

Slowly, painfully, they pulled her out, weaving magic like a cocoon around the powerful witch until the hold broke. Armina sat back, breathing hard, then shoved her chair back. She stumbled, and Lux caught her. "Ma'am, please sit. I'll get you some tea."

"I'm fine," Armina said. Her dark eyes scraped over Stella, nostrils flaring. "You'll accompany Jordan. You come back with Shoshanna York's head, or you don't come back at all."

Stella recoiled. "Ma'am…what exactly did this witch do?"

"Does it matter?" Armina asked.

"Yeah, it does. You want me to kill her, so it matters," Stella said. Her throat worked.

Armina rose, gripping one of the wooden dining room chairs tightly. Even with her petite frame, her presence filled the room, and Stella shrank back. "When you came to me, you swore to do what it took to gain the power you sought. Has that changed?"

"I thought I would have to work hard, not kill people," Stella said.

With a harsh laugh, Armina said, "You think I don't know what you've done? I've seen inside your head, you foolish child. You're very good at making it look accidental, you know."

Her stomach churned. "That was once, and he deserved it."

"And what did you get from killing that redheaded Neanderthal? Nightmares and a few hundred dollars in cash?" Armina said, her tone mocking. "You have everything to gain and everything to lose here."

"But why? Just tell me what she did," Stella pleaded.

"She has ruined my work!" Armina said, her voice thundering through the house. "They were suffering the cost of taking him from me, and she stole that away! She gave them absolution that none of them deserve!"

Cold air whipped around them, and Stella took another tentative step back. "And do you intend to hurt Scarlett? She seems to think you want to kill her."

"Scarlett is mine, and if I wish to break her like spun glass, then that is my right," Armina said.

Stella stared at her blankly and said, "I don't want to do this. You don't care about anyone. Not Scarlett, not Lux, not me."

Armina let out a sharp, barking laugh. "God, you sound pathetic. Lux, are you under the illusion that I care for you?" Lux let out a derisive snort. "Did you come to me seeking a replacement for your mommy? Or did you come to me seeking power so that no man would ever do to you what that drunken waste of carbon did that late April night?"

"Stop," Stella murmured as her blood ran cold.

In a blur, Armina was on her, mere inches away. A strong grasp closed on her arm, and pain lanced through her nerves. "You will do as I say."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll take it back," Armina said.

Horrific pain wrenched through Stella, her mind going blank as unseen claws tore at her from inside. She managed to pull away, but Armina was still there.

Just the witch. No vampires to back her up anymore. Just a frail old woman. And if she could get downstairs, Stella could have her own vampire who was highly motivated to get the hell out.

Stella gritted her teeth and shoved the woman back. "I said no." She darted past, and another searing bolt of pain tore through her, but she got to the table and grabbed her tablet.

"Lux!" Armina called.

The air thrummed with power, and as soon as she saw Lux's hands moving, Stella frantically wove the first spell that came to mind. If she had one advantage over these two, it was her focus. No long incantations.

Darkness, obey, she mouthed, pantomiming the tying of a knot between her hands. The cabin plunged into pitch black, and she ran for the door. A cold hand seized her wrist and yanked her back.

"I taught you that spell," Armina hissed. Her hand twisted in Stella's hair, and her mind went utterly blank. It felt as if Armina was pulling out her veins, every last thread of nerve fiber, slithering under her skin, ripping free. It was excruciating, and she managed to think only run.

When her grip loosened, Stella felt scraped out, and she knew that Armina had made good on her threat to take it back; she didn't care. Survival was all that mattered.

The darkness had gone, but her vision remained dim and gray. Stella gritted her teeth and rasped, "Illuminate!"

The darkness spiraled on itself and exploded in a burst of sunlight. With light filling the room, Stella reached out and aimed her focus at the knife block on the counter. In a dancing display of silver, the knives emerged from the block and flew at her.

Spinning deftly, Stella flung the knives toward Lux and bolted for the basement door. She'd free the vampire and escape through the sliding doors. She clambered down the stairs, tripped, fell down four stairs at a time, and caught herself just at the bottom.

Rhys gaped at her. "The hell is going on up there?"

The door splintered open above her, and she ran for him. "I'm getting out of here. You want to go?"

He growled, struggling against the chains. She braced herself and yanked the wooden stakes out of his lean chest. Muscles strained against the chains, and he twisted against the metal chair. "Come on," he muttered. One of the chains snapped, and she fought to unwind it for him.

A gunshot rang out, and Rhys swore. Vampire blood splattered on her, and he shook his head.

With dark eyes like voids, Jordan slammed to the ground on the basement floor. He tsk'ed. "We were supposed to hunt a witch together," he said flatly.

She pointed at him, saw that beautiful vision of him flying backward, and snapped her fingers. The magic sparked to life, but she could feel Armina's fingers on her face, digging into her brain, and her spine popped as she flew backward instead. Her fingers twitched as if electrical current was running through her.

"Shit," she swore. The bitch had twisted up her power. She was just a human with faulty wiring.

"Go," Rhys said. "Warn them about my blood if you?—"

His voice was cut short when Jordan pounced on him. With her eyes stinging, Stella bolted through the downstairs door. Begging for her power to work, she worked her hands quickly through the air, leaving a ward to catch Jordan as he left.

She sprinted up the side of the house, out to the gravel driveway. "There she is!" Lux shouted from somewhere. A nearby tree cracked. She ignored it and dove into the car, peeling down the curving mountain road.

Run.

Go.

Survive.