Witch's Wrath (Blood And Magick #3)(39)
I cocked my head. “By burning them at the stake?”
“If we must.”
“You understand we will never have peace if what we propose is more death.”
“What I’m proposing is one final death to seal the deal.”
I shook my head. “Death and violence never solved anything. If I join you, I’m sending a clear message not only to the vampires, but also to the witches of New Orleans, that I’ve picked a side, and this isn’t about us against them—it’s about unity.”
Tamara picked up her wine glass and finished what was left in one long swig. “So, you won’t join me?” she asked.
A cold chill suddenly entered my body, and I found myself now checking over my shoulder and looking at the open door leading toward the front hall and the way out. I turned my eyes back at Tamara. “No,” I said, “Tamara, we all need—”
Tamara threw her glass against the wall behind me, causing it to shatter and send glass raining to the floor. My heart leapt into my throat and started to pound. I turned and headed for the door going into the corridor, but it was as if my feet were made of concrete—like running inside of a nightmare. I was nowhere near it when the door slammed shut on its own.
I turned to look at Tamara again. A freak wind had entered the room and started to circle the empty space, pulling and pushing curtains this way and that, causing a fire in the fireplace to grow almost unnaturally and begin flickering violently.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my hands already balled into fists by my sides.
“I really wish we could have worked something out,” Tamara said, “I hate to waste good talent.”
“I don’t—”
With a flick of her wrist, Tamara sent a wave of telekinetic energy hurtling toward me. The sofa shifted, scraping across the floor and bringing a corner of the carpet with it, then it took off and flew across the room. I threw my hands up in defense, pulled the power out from within me, and using my own telekinesis, took hold of the sofa as it flew and turned its path into a wall, away from me.
The sofa struck with a loud crash. One of its legs went into a window, smashing the glass and wedging itself there. By the time I turned my eyes on Tamara again, she had sent the wine bottle, glass, and tray flying in my direction. Again, I put my hands up, succeeding in turning the bottle and glass away, but I wasn’t quick enough to stop the tray the wine bottle had been sitting on from striking me on the side of the head.
My legs turned to jelly and gave way. I fell hard, landing on my shoulder as stars danced in front of my eyes. Blinking didn’t help to dismiss them, and when I touched the side of my head, my fingers came back warm and wet. Tamara loomed over me, her tall, dark frame blocking the light from the fireplace.
She was the last thing I saw before passing out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on squishy, wet, uneven ground, and insects were buzzing around me. My head lolled to the side, and I blinked past the daze and confusion until I could focus my attention on something. Anything. But even before I could see much at all, I knew from the smell of wet moss, the croaking of toads, and chirping of night birds that I was in the swamp.
Careful not to slip into the questionably sturdy ground beneath me, I rolled on my shoulder and reached around blindly for something solid to hold onto, like a tree root, a rock, or a vine. But my fingers succeeded only in digging into soil riddled with creepy, crawling insects and coming away caked with wet earth.
When I saw the tree standing not far from where I lay, I decided to roll onto my front and start crawling, one hand and leg in front of the other, until finally I reached it, and I was able to use the trunk to bring myself to a standing position. It was a cypress tree, and fingers of Spanish moss hung from it, tickling my face and hair like hundreds of invisible fingers.
I kept blinking and squinting my eyes, trying desperately to clear the daze, willing my sight to focus, but it was dark out here. The new moon was out, offering nothing in the way of illumination. Toads croaked in the distance, an owl hooted in a tree somewhere, maybe the tree I was standing next to now, while gnats buzzed loudly around me. That earthy, dirty swamp smell assaulted my nostrils, and my head was starting to pound. Each of these things painted a picture of where I was, which was useful because in this darkness, seeing anything except for the vague impressions of trees was impossible.
Alright, don’t panic. Don’t panic. Just think. You don’t know where you are, can’t call for help, but you’re definitely in the middle of the swamp and there could be gators out here. First things first—light.
I took a series of calming breaths and let my left hand stretch out in front of me, palm facing up toward the sky. “Lumière,” I whispered, taking a page out of Nicole’s book, and my hand began to radiate silver light, touching tree trunks, branches, and even glinting off the bodies of gnats as they buzzed around. It wasn’t exactly the same effect Nicole had when she invoked the magick, but it was the only thing I could think of, and it was at least enough.
Slowly I moved away from the cypress, keeping my eyes low and walking in a straight line toward wherever there wasn’t a body of water. I used to be a girl scout, and also happened to be well enough into cosmology that I could pick out different constellations in the night sky. As luck would have it, there weren’t many clouds in the sky, making it easy enough for me to pick out the North Star and get my bearings.