Page 81 of Summer of Sacrifice

Seleste didn’t answer. She was going over her spell in her mind on repeat. She’d done it right, but if Gaius had been wrong, if she and Arielle had mingled the blood... Then all she was seeing was Laurent’s location. Either way, the beasts had come. She had to know if Winnie was safe. She was just about to translate to her Sister when the image returned in the water. Anne gasped, and they all huddled around the bowl, watching.

Winnie was breathing heavily. There was more black blood on her bosom and another dead beast lay at her feet. Eleanor was standing in front of Tomás, who was bleeding badly.

The image swung so quickly that Seleste’s stomach lurched. Three robed figures were crumpled on the ground, at least half a dozen Druids with them, their bodies mangled with injuries and deterioration from using so much of their magic. Winnie and a woman—relief flooded Seleste’s heart, Lydia—started running, shouting, making commands those gathered around the bowl couldn’t hear. Then the image flickered again, coming back faster this time.

“Woods,” Tindle muttered. “It’s just the damned woods.”

But Laurent came into view.

“We did it,” Seleste breathed. “We’re witnessing fragments of what she sees.”

LAURENT

“Oh, do come out,” Laurent shouted into the treetops, his tone dripping with honey.

Only the chittering of birds answered him, and he sent a prayer of thanks to Hespa that no cries were coming from the direction of the camp. The reason—the target—of the whole ordeal would have followed him, he knew that much, and the others should have easily taken on the last three Acolytes and monsters. He only hoped there weren’t too many injured in the wake of such a fray.

“Come on, now.” Laurent spun in a small circle, using his magic to alter his features into the face she liked. “You’ve never been bashful before. Why start now?”

The smile he fixed to his mouth pulled back from his teeth involuntarily as she stepped from behind a tree.

“Did you do all this just for me?” Chresedia gestured to the black gore and broken bodies in the clearing.

When her eyes met his again, it was as if a veil over her stuttered, revealing broken glimpses of a haggard, grotesque witch, more shrew than woman. She glided closer, her glamour returning, morphing her into the beautiful face she’d worn for as long as he’d known her.

Grimm might have been a sadistic interest of hers, but Laurent knew it was him she’d never been able to resist. She’d always wanted what she couldn’t have. What wasn’t hers.

Pillowy soft lips pouting sensually, she came up to him and placed a hand on his chest. Laurent’s heart slammed against his ribcage, but he kept his composure outwardly. Slowly, she dragged her fingers from his breastbone, across his chest and over his shoulder, walking in a crescent until she stood at his back. A sting shot through him as she touched a finger to his colliding wounds. Laurent gritted his teeth to keep from flinching and worked to keep his breathing even.

“I could heal this for you, you know,” she said from behind him. “Or would you rather Wendy do it?”

With a snarl, Laurent whipped around, grabbing Chresedia by the throat and slamming her up against a tree trunk. “What have I told you about keeping her name out of your godsdamned mouth?”

Chresedia peered up at him through lowered lashes, her tongue darting out to lick across her bottom lip. The mask faltered, revealing how truly rotted she’d become, just before it knit itself back together. So many questions came to his mind as he stared at her, his hand itching to crush her windpipe.

The plan had only been to lure her in so Seleste could ensure her tracking spell had latched onto Chresedia properly. But, now that she was there, away from Wendy and the others, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“Do it,” she croaked, clasping both of her clawed hands around his, tightening his grip on her neck.

Why had Grimm not killed this wretch when he had the chance? That’s what they went to Achlys to find out. And he had to trust they knew what the fuck they were doing.

“Do it.” This time, her words were hardly audible, her face turning purple.

Everything in him vibrated, begging him to let go of control. End this. All of it.

His fingers tightened, her head tipping back, survival instincts making her fight for air.

A streak of fire like lightning coursed through his arm, singeing his skin until it burned. Laurent cried out, dropping Chresedia to the ground. She clutched her neck, cackling as she looked up at him. It hadn’t felt like her magic, it felt like—like his own. Was she still connected to him somehow?

Still laughing, she rose, dusting the dirt from her ash and onyx skirts. “You can’t kill me, beloved.” She stalked closer, cocking her head in a show of exaggerated pity. “Your Lord Night will not allow it.”

He wanted to lash out at her, use his axe to relieve her of her head. Was that Grimm’s power that had zapped him? Is that why it felt like his own?

No…

“Dear, dear,” she tsked, walking a slow circle around him. “They think they’re so smart, and yet, they still can’t remember what they even did to me. Shame, really.”

“They know enough,” Laurent growled.

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