Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(106)

In the middle of the “room” there was a large, flat stone that wasn’t normally there.

It rose to about waist height.

As I watched, someone spread a black cloth on it.

There you go. It was an altar and that was where they placed me.

Before, there was chatting, gabbing, general merriment and excitement in the air.

Once one of the men arranged me on the altar, it had gone silent.

The brethren and sisterhood were assembling for the ritual.

Face up on the altar I saw the glistening atmosphere of the sky which I knew to be a cloak that protected this gathering from any interruption from the surrounding town and its inhabitants.

It undoubtedly protected the gathering from outside magic as well.

Candles were lit around the inside of the church.

I could smell the heavy scent of incense.

And the deep iron stench of fresh blood.

There started a low humming which turned to a chant.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Douglas Addison approach and stop by my side. He was wearing a cape lined in blood red satin.

And right then, down from the top of St. Michael’s Church, through the long steep, narrow shoot, came a bat, flying straight toward me.

Almost to the bottom, it transformed into a man who gracefully landed behind and to the right of Addison.

“Glad you could make it, son,” Addison said with affectionate impatience.

And there stood Gabriel.

Damn.

Yep.

So.

Stupid.

* * * * *

It would be irresponsible of me to explain the procedure that sliced away my magic.

And there are not good enough words to describe the pain.

Or to express my emotions when I saw my aura of hot pink, shell pink, violet, silver and electric blue sparks explode straight into the waiting undead bodies of Douglas and Gabriel Addison.

Those paragraphs alone will have to suffice.

I don’t even want history to know of the anguish and shame I felt when my magic was stripped.

So I won’t tell you.

* * * * *

But it was going to get worse.

* * * * *

Magic-less, I was no threat.

After the ritual, the celebration had begun.

More chanting, some magical fireworks, at that point no one paid any attention to me.

There were champagne corks popping and laughter.

Unbelievable.

Within fifteen, twenty minutes whatever drug Ash gave me wore off and I could sit up.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Gabriel said, placing a warning hand on my shoulder. “The night’s not over for you yet.”

I wanted to say something flip like, “Et tu, Gabriel?” but I just stared at him.

I mean, why would I trust this guy?

My intuition was shit.

Yet somehow, I was really disappointed, not only in myself, but also Gabriel.

And he stood there, his hand on my shoulder, nodding at folks who passed by and drinking a glass of champagne.

Ash walked up.

“Well done,” Gabriel told him, he took his hand from me and shook hands with Ash.

I spit on the stone between their two sets of feet.

Ash turned to me and raised a brow.

Gabriel looked at me and laughed.

* * * * *

“She’s here.”

“They’re here.”

“Quiet.”

“Sh.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“We’ve won!”

“This was too easy. Hurrah!”

“Oh no, I was kind of hoping for a human sacrifice.” (That from a particularly ugly little goblin, the little f**ker.)

I was sitting in the middle of the altar.

Still wearing what I wore to Althea’s ceremony, a pair of jeans, my Diesel trainers with all the straps around the top and a heathered-gray cashmere hoodie.

My knees were pulled up to my chest and I was hugging them because I was cold, tired, scared and seriously pissed off.

By this time, Ash and Gabriel were off somewhere probably having the times of their lives hooking up with gorgeous sorceresses.

I was under witch guard; one of the Edwards Coven was standing behind me, her wand at the ready.

And I was waiting for a good time to make a run for it. They may have my magic but that was all they’d take from me that night.

Assholes.

* * * * *

And then I saw Althea (panting heavily) and Josie (helping her) clear the top of The Tor.

“No!” I shouted, unable to control myself, I tried to spring off the slab but a slap of magic from the witch behind me stayed my progress.

Damn!

Everyone turned to look at me.

I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

There were giggles and titters as people turned away from ineffectual, old me, The Ex-Chosen One, in order to watch Josie and Althea walk into the small clearing.

“I’ve got this.” I heard a familiar French, English, and yes, American accented voice say. I turned and saw Gabriel relieve the witch from Mathilda watch.

Then Ash positioned himself beside me, leaning his hip against the altar (of all f**king arrogant things to do).

I wanted to push him off.

I wanted to punch him in the face.

I wanted to kick him in the balls.

I wanted to rush forward, grab Josie and Althea and run.