A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book #4)(50)

“So what would happen if I was doing this? Could I make a play dead potion?”

“It’s called a dead ringer,” said Sam hollowly. “And no. It’s why I have to stir. Making this is draining my energy. There is magic going into it....”

Well, that sucked. She thought she might at least be able to mix up a potion. But at least she still had her gun. She wasn’t completely defenseless.

Dante and Claire were in the living room on the couches, but neither was speaking. So Angela had to choose between sitting in the middle of that failing romance or with the rather scary numb Sam. But Sam didn’t feel the need to talk or fill the silence, so it was easier to be with her. And Angela could admit that she had a bit of curiosity about how the potion thing worked.

Sam leaned over the warm stove and took in a deep breath before she added in a few more of the dog ashes. Angela shuddered at the thought of drinking that. Sam had better be serious about adopting a dog after this. An old, disabled dog no one else wants. Angela was going to hold her to it.

Angela was determined to not get in Sam’s way, but she felt the need to ask at least one more question. “Sam,” she said quiet enough so Claire and Dante wouldn’t hear.

“What?” asked Sam with no emotion.

“Have you considered that the darkness, Abigail, is lying to you? What if you give her Claire and she doesn’t bring Derek back?”

“I’ve considered it.”

Okay then. She couldn’t say she didn’t warn Sam. She was going to leave it at that, but unexpectedly, Sam continued.

“I’m going to give her Claire. If she betrays me, I’m going to go after Abigail with everything I have. By the end of the night, one of us will be joining Derek.”

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Claire had to hold back the need to gag as she took a whiff of the potion Sam handed her. “That was a bad idea,” she muttered as she moved the glass away from her face.

“I know,” said Sam sympathetically. “I’ve never had a potion that tasted good. It’s one of the ways you know it’s been mixed right.”

Claire thought for a moment that Sam was telling a joke, but there was no change to her expression at all. Claire stared at the purple liquid and tried to figure out what gave it that color. Maybe the mixture of herbs? Maybe magic. What if she never woke up? What if this was it? What if she drank this and then she’d never see anyone again? Never see Sam. Never see Dante. Never see her parents. Her little sister.

Claire reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand. She jerked and met Claire’s eyes. In some ways, it felt as if this was the first time Sam had truly looked at her all night.

“I trust you,” said Claire. And she meant every word. Even in Sam’s altered state, she believed a hundred percent in Sam’s abilities.

Sam didn’t say anything. She just stared at Claire’s wide eyes. Claire figured Sam didn’t know what to say. Thanks wasn’t really adequate. And saying I’m sorry before the fact was pointless.

So Sam stayed silent. Dante stepped in and took one of Claire’s hands in his. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

She let out a little laugh. Of course he’d say that. One last chance for her to back out. For her to choose him.

Before she could tell him no, he continued, “No matter what, I know you’re going to come back to me. And I’m going to be here waiting for you. Always. I love you, Claire.”

Claire had managed to keep her shit together that entire night, but hearing Dante say it out loud was too much and the tears started to flow. Her life had been so unfair in so many ways, but, damn it, she didn’t deserve him. “I’m so sorry,” she said between breaths.

Dante leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t be.”

She didn’t know what exactly she was apologizing for. Maybe everything. But the fact that Dante sat there, holding her hand, when she’d done nothing but hurt him, was too much for her and she pulled back. Then, without looking at any of her friends who surrounded her, she tilted her head back and took a deep drink.

She expected it to taste bad, the smell had clearly signaled that, but she wasn’t expecting the burning. Half of the contents were down when she started to cough, a reflex as her throat felt as if it were dissolving away.

She held a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the potion from escaping, but the coughing turned into convulsing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw everyone jump up around her, but then she tumbled out of her chair and onto the ground. She tried to get one last look at Dante, but she couldn’t manage to turn her head. No, she was turning her head, but her vision was narrowing. Soon all she could see was one little pinprick of light and then even that was gone.

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Dante cradled Claire against his chest before he looked up at Sam with a look of anger and rage she was all too familiar with. “Well? You have what you want. What do we do now?”

Sam stared down at Claire's lifeless body. But she wasn’t dead. She was just in a temporary deep sleep.

“We have until the sun sets.” A tremble crept into her voice. “We need to get her to Abigail as soon as possible and make sure she’s with us when she wakes up.” Because if she was with Abigail when she came out of this coma, she would be dead again, this time permanently.