Page 62 of A Resistance of Witches

She heard Henry gasp, and turned.

A smartly dressed woman stood over Henry and Lydia, an irritated look on her porcelain face. She was around Lydia’s age, beautiful in a way that was almost unreal, with red lips and hair the color of dark honey. Her shoes and dress were both a rich shade of pink thatenhanced the sapphire blue of her eyes. On her lapel she wore a silver rose, encircled with thorns. The woman looked down at Lydia and pursed her lips.

“Bloody hell, girl. What have you got yourself into?” She looked up at Rebecca expectantly. Then she narrowed her eyes at the gun and opened her mouth to speak.

“Wait! You’re the Traveler, yes?” Rebecca stammered. “We’re friends. Please help her.Please.” She held her breath and hoped her words would be enough to keep the woman from casting whatever spell was waiting on her pretty lips.

A loud crack filled the room, turning her blood to ice. Rebecca spun and trained the rifle on the door. “They’re breaking it down!”

She stole a glance over her shoulder. Lydia lay deathly still on the stone floor, her lips gone blue. Henry knelt on one side of her, his face ashen; the golden-haired woman knelt on the other. The woman squeezed Lydia’s limp fingers in her hand.

“Come on, girl,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

TheGrimorium Bellum, tossed aside in the commotion, lay open on the floor, forgotten.

“Wait,” Rebecca cried, but the ozone smell had returned, and before the word had finished forming, Lydia and the woman were gone, leaving the book behind. Henry looked at her as the terrible realization settled on them both.

The door cracked again, and then again. Rebecca could see the splinters forming in the wood. In a moment, the Gestapo would be inside.

She looked at Henry. “Was she breathing?”

“I don’t know.” He stared down at the place where Lydia had been just a moment ago. “I don’t think so.”

The pounding continued. Rebecca could see light through the cracks in the door. She saw the men on the other side. She felt her spine go hard as grim reality finally set in.

“We can’t let them have the book,” she said. “Take it. Run.”

Henry looked up. “I’m not leaving you to die.”

He was being stupid, and he knew it. Letting his gallantry get in the way of the only thing that mattered.

“Please,” she said.

Henry shook his head. “No.”

She knew what had to be done. She hoped that maybe someday he would forgive her.

Rebecca aimed the rifle at his heart. “Run, or I’ll shoot you.”

He cocked his head, confused. “You won’t.” The door cracked again.

She fired once, and Henry staggered back, covering his head as plaster exploded from the wall just to the left of him. Shock and hurt flashed across his face.

“You don’t know me very well.”

I’m sorry, she thought.Forgive me.

He opened his mouth to speak, but something in her eyes seemed to change his mind.

“Pick it up,” she said.

He did.

“Now run.”

He looked at her for a moment, pleading silently for her to reconsider. She stared back, gun steady.

Henry turned and ran.

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