The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(114)

“No!” Blue leaped over Riva’s body and threw herself at the wraith. It was like throwing herself at a boulder.

Desperately, she cast around for something to use as a weapon. The floor was scattered with debris. Books, parchment, jars of herbs, Riva’s wand, and the broken bits of the chair Nessa had used against Marielle.

Only one of those had any chance of being the kind of weapon Blue needed.

Blue snatched up the wand and waved it at the wraith.

Nothing happened.

Nessa’s body twitched, and she moaned as the wraith continued feeding.

Panic blazed through Blue, but she forced herself to think. A wand concentrated magical power. Blue’s power told her what wanted harvesting. What to combine. And bonded those things together. She had to think about what she wanted to harvest. What she wanted to combine. She had to will those things to bond.

She drew in a deep breath and raised the wand as Kellan burst into the cottage. He brushed past her as he attacked the wraith, desperately trying to wrench his sister from the monster’s grasp.

Blue made herself look at nothing but the wraith. Think of nothing but the wraith. The wraith and Blue.

Harvest the wraith. Combine it with my blood. Bond us together.

She aimed the wand at the wraith and held fast to what she wanted.

Her magic ignited, a swirling firestorm of power and hunger aimed straight at Marielle.

“Kellan, get back.” Her voice, full of magic, echoed throughout the cottage, shaking its walls.

The wand shivered eagerly in her fingers.

He stumbled back, one hand still on Nessa, his eyes beseeching Blue to save his sister.

She wasn’t going to let him down.

The storm churned through her veins, boiled in her blood, and then exploded out of the wand in a stream of brilliant light. The light struck the wraith, wrapped around its chest, and sank into its body.

Marielle dropped Nessa and came for Blue.

Blue opened her arms, her skin swelling with the poisonous blood that flowed in her veins. The wraith collided with her, mouth gaping wide. There was a flash of bright, burning pain as it sank its teeth into her neck, an instant of seeing the horror on Kellan’s face, and then there was simply nothing.





FORTY-SIX


KELLAN WAS DESPERATE.

The wraith had Blue pinned to the floor, its vicious fangs sunk deep into the side of her neck. Every pull, every swallow of blood sent a tremor through her. Her eyes were closed, and she looked weaker by the second.

Nessa was huddled beside him, blood slowly dripping down her shoulder from the wraith’s bite mark. She shivered as she stared at Blue.

Save her.

“I have to save you first, or she’ll never forgive me,” he said in a voice that broke at the end.

Pulling his coat from his shoulders, he wrapped Nessa in its warmth and scooped her up. Her hands moved furiously.

Put me down and save her. It’s killing her.

“And she’s killing it. She bonded a powerful poison to her blood as a trap for the wraith. We have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.” Please, please let Blue know what she was doing. Otherwise, he’d just condemned her to a pointless death, and he’d never be able to live with himself.

If you won’t save her, I will.

Kellan’s arms tightened around his sister, and he hung on for a moment as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “You already did. You followed her, and I followed you.”

Actually, the enchanted dancing slipper had done the following. It had pulled him through the city streets, out of the western gate, and down the lane until he’d reached an orchard in time to hear the thunderclap of the wraith’s magic as it half destroyed the cottage. But he didn’t say any of that to Nessa. Not when he needed her to believe her job was done so that she’d stay clear of the wraith.

Settling her on the porch, his coat securely wrapped around her, he said, “Stay here, Nes. I can’t concentrate on helping Blue if I have to worry about you too.”

She nodded once, tears shining in her eyes, and then he raced back into the cottage and fell to his knees beside Blue.

The wraith was still drinking, its clawlike fingers tangled in Blue’s golden dress, its tattered black cloak spread out behind it.

Kellan drew his sword.

How much poison did it need to drink before the venom took hold? How much blood could Blue afford to lose? How long before trusting Blue turned into simply letting her die when he might have saved her?

Another swallow. Another tremor through Blue, this one much weaker than the last. A tiny gasp of air as Blue’s chest started to rise and fall faster and faster.

She was dying, and the wraith was still drinking. The numb corner of his heart shattered into brilliant splinters of pain.

Maybe she’d weakened it. Maybe as the poison bonded with the wraith’s blood, it would die slowly. Kellan no longer cared. The time for waiting was over.

He stood, aimed his sword at the back of the wraith’s neck, and drove the blade down as hard as he could. The sword struck a shimmering, translucent barrier and bounced back, throwing Kellan to the floor.

It wasn’t the wraith’s magic. He’d experienced that firsthand in the ballroom. No, this was Blue’s doing. She hadn’t just used her blood to poison the wraith, she’d used her magic to bind the wraith itself to her until the poison did its job.