The Vine Witch (Vine Witch #1)(70)

She would be drained like a cat to feed the desecrated body of a demon.

But as sudden and vicious as it had struck, the hairy devil abruptly let go. Its tongue thrust in and out of its mouth, as if trying to rid itself of the taste of her. White froth foamed on grotesque lips. It clawed at its face, gagging for breath, spitting her blood on the floor. Elena shoved the beast away, thinking it possessed, when a putrid stream of yellow bile oozed out of its mouth. The demon dropped to its knees in a spasm that racked its body in marionette-like contortions. The golden eyes dilated in disbelief.

“What have you done to me?” it begged. And then the monster slumped into stillness, leaving her bewildered and without answer.

Jean-Paul, finally free, limped madly toward her from the winepress, one hand clutching his ribs. “Christ, is it dead?” he asked.

The demon was definitely dead. But how?

Rivulets of blood trickled from the puncture wounds near her neck. She wiped a smear of it on her hand and rubbed it between her fingers. Could it be? For seven years she’d ingested toxic toad skin to break the curse. Was it possible the bufotoxin still swam in her blood after all this time? It must have, though the realization gave her no comfort.

“It’s been poisoned,” she said and wiped her hand on her costume.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “Are you hurt badly?” He reached up to her collar, groaning from the pressure it put on his ribs to raise his arm.

“I don’t think so.” Though if it was possible for her to infect the beast, she had to wonder if it could have done the same to her with its vile, hell-born mouth. No fire burned inside her veins, and her head and eyes were clear. Still, she would need to visit Brother Anselm to be sure.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Jean-Paul asked.

“What for?”

“For not being able to protect you.”

“Stop.” She held a finger to his lips. “There was nothing on your mortal earth you could have done.”

He removed his shirt and pressed the cloth against her wound to stop the bleeding. “Can you at least tell me what in hell just happened?”

“One of its denizens used a human bridge to pay us a visit,” she said. “Oh, Yvette! Is she all right?”

They hurried to the other side of the barrels and found the young woman lying on the floor, unconscious. Elena thanked the stars there wasn’t much blood except for the small trickle coming from Yvette’s nose and a scratch on her arm.

“I performed a protection spell on her before we entered, but she wasn’t supposed to come down here.”

Jean-Paul tapped the woman’s cheeks and got no response.

“Let me try a little of this,” Elena said, digging in her pocket. She’d saved a bit of lavender and bay from Brother Anselm’s bundle. She passed it under Yvette’s nose several times. The young witch’s eyes fluttered open, and Elena held her hands in the sacred pose to thank the All Knowing.

“What happened?”

“You were knocked out. I’m afraid you’re going to have a terrible headache later.”

“Where is she? And that devil? Did they get away?”

Elena glanced over her shoulder at the cellar passageways cloaked in darkness. “The demon is dead, but Gerda is still here. Hiding in one of the barrel rooms.”

Yvette sat up. “Let’s get her. Where’s my . . .” The young woman swayed unsteadily and fell over to the side. Jean-Paul caught her shoulder, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out at the cost to his ribs.

“You’ve had a nasty bump to the head,” Elena said. “It’s best if you rest.”

She stopped and put a finger over her lips. The clatter of horse hooves beat upon the cobblestones. She crept closer to the steps leading out of the cellar and heard the rumble of motorcycles. “They’re here.”

Jean-Paul helped the girl to her feet. “Who?”

“The inspector. And, I imagine, the matron.”

“You have to get out of here. They’ll lock you up. Both of you.”

“I’m not going back,” Yvette said. “There has to be a way out. A window or something.”

The authorities would search the house first. Only after finding it empty would the men expand their hunt to include the outbuildings and cellar. She and Yvette had a moment, albeit a brief one. Elena had no choice. She had to get Yvette out. She owed her that much.

“Right. No windows, but there is one other possible way out. At least for you.”

Elena took a step back and raised her arms in the sacred pose again. She closed her eyes and brought the image of flames and incense into her mind, the nearest she could align with the jinni’s spirit. Then she called out Sidra’s name three times.

“What! No, not her. Anyone but her. She hates me.”

After a long pause, the scents of charred citrus and frankincense trickled into the cellar. As the aroma grew stronger it infiltrated the space, pushing out the odor of death and sulfur. A trail of smoke seeped in through a tiny crack in the cellar’s foundation, a passageway only a spider ought to know of. The smoke built into a column, and the jinni stepped out, her skin still shimmering with magic.

“What is this place?” she demanded. “It’s as dark as Jahannam in here. Did you summon me inside the walls of a jail?” Sidra wore a scowl that would have frightened the demon back to hell if it were still alive. “If this is a trick, I will curse your offspring for all eternity.”