Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(104)
“I could just about –” he started, anger in his voice but stopped himself. “Matty,” he whispered crossly, “you’ve no idea what kind of fool you’ve been.”
Nice.
“We need to get you to bed and you need to stay in bed,” he ordered in a terse voice. “And get your mother to give you some of her healing brews.”
I nodded, too weak to talk.
He watched me do this then clipped, “Jesus, Matty.”
He walked me into the house taking a great deal of my weight most of the time and then eventually all of it as he slid an arm behind my knees and around my back and lifted me up. I draped my arm around his neck and let my head rest on his shoulder as he carried me into my rooms were both Su and Viv were already conked, sleeping the sleep of the dead.
He carefully lowered me to the floor, set me slightly to the side and then he opened the door to my bedroom.
And there stood Ash.
There was a little, kinda “zing” sound with a flash.
Followed very closely by this muted, revolting thud noise.
And then Aidan was falling and Ash moved forward quickly, pushing the smoking gun into the back waistband of his jeans.
He bent low as he approached me and, with nothing left in me, I couldn’t avoid it when his shoulder hit my belly and he picked me up in a fireman’s hold.
And as he walked away, I had just enough energy to lift my head and watch the blood seep out of Aidan and all over the floor.
* * * * *
Note on above entry: Derived from residue of aura of Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt. Aura read and recorded by Mavis Lillian Honeycutt, 30 October.
31 October
This entry written by Josephine McShane.
We’ve been contacted by High Priestess, Agatha Darling and the Edwards Coven.
This evening at “The Witching Hour” they’re performing “The Ceremony” on Mathilda to slice away her power.
After which they will give her, alive, to the Honeycutt Family in exchange for me.
If the Honeycutts do not turn me over, the Edwards Coven will sacrifice her life in a further Dark Ceremony to cement the powers they are transferring to a new Dark Lord.
I’ve demanded that this exchange go forward.
I’ve legally transferred custody of Rory to Mathilda.
No one will die for me.
I couldn’t raise my son knowing that they did.
My hope is that your next entry will be made by your mistress.
Please, God, answer that prayer.
Chapter Thirteen
Hallowe’en
Hallowe’en
(Witches’ New Year)
The Night the Veil between the Worlds is Weakest
* * * * *
I didn’t cry.
At least I can say I was proud of that.
But that wasn’t a lot to hold onto when visions of Aidan’s dead body kept popping into my brain.
* * * * *
I don’t know where they kept me. It didn’t have windows or furniture. The floor was wood. The walls were stone. There was an air mattress and a blanket.
Get this: at one point, they gave me half a French stick cut down the middle, smothered in margarine (euw) and tucked with too-cold brie and grapes and a bottle of Cranberry pressè.
What kind of prison food was that?
I ate it.
I needed my strength.
Twice, two men (with guns) and two women (with wands) took me from the room down an equally dark hall to a bathroom.
Mostly, my hands were tied behind me and I lay on the mattress.
There was zero noise, nothing to give away where I was.
There was nothing to do either.
It was like being in the Big Brother house without any housemates or any weird and wonky furniture.
I had a fierce caffeine headache caused by the forced cold turkey off lattes.
I was still exhausted and I knew that although my magic was probably regenerating, without the physical energy or my wand (which was confiscated, of course), I was f**ked.
And I thought about Aidan.
And I tried not to think about Ash.
* * * * *
Sometime when it was darker and colder and I knew night was coming, the door opened.
The two men with guns and two women with wands came in and I thought it was bathroom break time.
But then Agatha Darling came in behind them followed by Ash.
Darling was wearing her cloak and Ash, I swear to the goddess, looked like f**king Darth Vader following the Emperor.
I felt my mouth fill with saliva like I was going to vomit.
I wanted to spit it in his face.
Which, by the way, was still gorgeous and completely void of any emotion.
He was wearing the Alexander McQueen shirt I’d given him.
The bastard.
Then, behind them, in flew a big, black bat.
The bat hovered momentarily and then transformed and there stood Douglas Fucking Addison.
“Miss Honeycutt,” he said, in those smooth, kind tones I’d somewhat gotten used to which were undoubtedly honed over years of political ass-kissing.
I just stared, trying to look surprised.
(‘Cause, if you will remember, I wasn’t supposed to know he was a vampire.)
He nodded to Ash and Ash walked forward.
I wanted to back away but I held my ground, staring daggers at him.
I wished like hell I could use magic but I couldn’t. I figured I had a big night ahead of me. If I had any magic regenerated at all, I had no doubt I’d need it later.