Anya Bast - Witch Blood

Alarmed, Isabelle tried to move. It was like her arms had been wrapped in cotton, but she managed some mobility. Color now tinged the edges of her black-and-white vision, too.

Thomas dragged her a distance away, far enough that the pull of the doorway ceased, and lay her down. Isabelle sat up, scanning the room for the demon. Boyle lay a short distance away, on his stomach. Multiple stab wounds marred his back and his blood crackled and popped on the pavement around him. He still lived. His limbs twitched and a low, thick moan wafted from his throat.

About five feet away from him the doorway gleamed almost prettily in the air, a riot of shimmering colors that pulsed and flickered with magick. Isabelle was no earth witch, but even she could sense the volatility in the spell.

She glanced at Boyle and shook her head. “No, he’s not dying. He doesn’t die. He’s like something out of a horror movie. You only think he’s dying and then—”

Thomas shhhed and rocked her in his arms. “He’s dying, believe me. He was more than halfway done for by the time I arrived. I just finished the job you started. It’s over, Isabelle. It’s over.”

Could it be? It seemed like it had been forever since it had begun.

“Home.” The groan came from Boyle. Bleeding and beaten, he pulled himself toward the doorway. He went inch by inch across the floor by willpower alone, leaving a trail of hissing blood behind him. “Home.” This time it sounded more like a sob.

“Let’s go,” Thomas said, helping her to stand. “I don’t know what that doorway is going to do.”

She climbed to her feet and took a quick inventory of Thomas’s wounds. His clothing and probably his skin were singed from Boyle’s blood. Cuts marked his head, his cheek, and his chest. His own blood soaked his thigh from a gash, but she couldn’t tell how deep it was. “Thomas—”

“Come on. We both need medical attention.” He slid his arm under her waist and helped her walk toward the exit.

The door at the far end of the warehouse opened, revealing Adam and the rest of the Coven witches entering the building.

Adam’s gaze focused on something behind her and Thomas. “Watch out!” he yelled and started to run toward them.

Isabelle glanced back and saw that Boyle had reached the doorway and was crawling through. The doorway had grown larger and brighter. Magick flared and rippled outward from the unruly, half-finished spell.

Light flashed and the pull intensified. Isabelle screamed as the thing sucked them in like some kind of black hole. Hell, maybe it was a black hole.

Magick, light, and sound exploded.

THOMAS CAME TO FACEDOWN IN A PATCH OF GRASS,his upper thigh throbbing in agony. His hand still gripped the handle of the sword. He had to physically force himself to relinquish it, one finger at a time.

Isabelle was no longer in his arms. He sat up and groaned, pain shooting though his body from his wounds. The pounding in his head had increased ten-fold and now nausea roiled in his stomach to boot. His hand went to his thigh and came away sticky and hot with his own blood.

He pushed all that away, pushed it back, and almost passed out from the effort. None of that was important. Only Isabelle was important.

“Isabelle?” he croaked.

It was dark. Wind creaked through tree branches not far away and the air smelled strange. Not at all normal. It smelled faintly of… demon magick .

“ Isabelle! ”

“I’m…here.” She groaned and something thunked. “Damn it. I’m here.”

Thomas groped toward the sound in the darkness and finally found warm flesh. He gathered her against his chest. “Are you all right?”

She took a moment to answer and when she did her voice sounded thin. “I can’t take any more poofing today. It makes me sick.”

“ Poofing? ”

“The transporting through unconventional means.” She groaned. “ Poofing . We went through the doorway…I think.”

“I think so, too.”

“Where do you think we are?”

He looked up, studying the night sky. It looked just like any other clear, perfect night sky — a few wispy white clouds and a whole lot of bright stars. Except…“Wherever we are, it’s not Chicago.” He pointed skyward.

“What?” Pause. “Oh, shit.”

Above them hung two moons. One large and luminous, the other smaller and pale blue.

“DO YOU THINK WE COULD BOTH BE HALLUCINATINGthe same thing?” Isabelle asked, huddling closer against his chest.

“I doubt it.”

“How badly are you hurt?”

He shifted and the throbbing pain in his thigh shot to brilliant white-hot life. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think Boyle is out there somewhere?”

Thomas took a moment to answer. His mind had been turning over that same possibility ever since he’d seen both moons shining in the sky. The thought of being trapped here, with no way to get Isabelle back home, sent a shot of ice water through his veins. The fear he felt for her would probably anger her, but he couldn’t help it. He knew all too well she could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to try.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. If he is, he’s probably dead by now.”

“Maybe. Demons are like cockroaches, though. Hard to kill.”

They sat in the dark for several minutes, absorbing their situation and listening to a strange bird cawing somewhere to their left. When Isabelle began to shiver, he wrapped his arms around her tighter. They needed to find shelter.

He had no way to judge the time, but light seemed to be getting brighter on the horizon, which logically meant it was nearly morning. Of course, in this alien world, who knew for certain?

Gripping the sword in one hand and using it as a sort of crutch, Thomas helped Isabelle to stand and led her to a small clump of trees on their left. At least they wouldn’t be so out in the open. He hoped they weren’t doing something dangerous, but he had no way to know for sure. His intuition said they were fine in the place he’d chosen and that would have to be good enough for now.

After they’d settled at the base of a huge tree, Isabelle turned to him and touched his face, tracing very lightly the cut on his head and the one on his cheek. “You’re lying about being okay for my sake. Don’t do that. Remember I’m empathic and can feel you’re in pain. How badly are you injured?”

He hesitated before replying. “Boyle sliced me up with his claws. It’s nothing serious except for the wound in my thigh. That one’s a little deep, but I don’t think he hit anything vital.”

She snaked a hand to his left leg. It came away bloody, no doubt. “A little deep?” She’d tried to make her voice steady, but he could hear the quaver in it.

“It will be fine.”

“Right.” She made an exasperated sound and pulled her shirt over her head.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m using my shirt as a bandage. You take care of everyone else, so let me take care of you as best I can.”

He grabbed her T-shirt before she could shred it. “You’re going to freeze!”

“Then you’re just going to have to keep me warm.” In the semidarkness she glanced down at his bare torso and feet. “I’m wearing more than you anyway.”

“Clothes weren’t my first concern when I saw you on the back of Boyle’s bike.”

“Duly noted. Clothes aren’t my first concern right now, either.” She yanked her T-shirt from his grasp and tore it a couple inches up from the hem, making it into a long, ragged piece of material. “Now let me play nurse.”

Leaning into him, she wound it around his upper thigh. He took advantage, burying his nose in her hair and snaking his hands around her waist. “I told you, I’ll be fine.”