Page 33 of Lunar Desires
Such hopelessness didn’t only go against my nature, but drove a rusty spike into its heart.
“You’re always too perky,”I heard Mum’s voice chide me.“One day, it’ll trip you up.”
I kissed his hand again, clinging to hope. I had to. No matter what, my sparkle must always shine. Even in the darkest moments, even when hope stepped out of the room. To give in was to give up, and I wouldn’t be giving up on Drake.
Never. Never. Never.
“Please wake up,” I whispered, checking his pulse again.
Still there. His heart still fighting.
“I’ll get help,” I said. “I’ll make this right.”
As I got to my feet, I heard footsteps in the direction from Molly’s shop. Heavy, along with elevated voices. They stomped, moving in quickly. In no time, witchcops flooded the tunnel with flashlights and weapons, the jig definitely up.
“Hands up!” a woman barked, pointing a rifle at my head.
Behind her, two men waited to unleash the blue magic swirling in their hands.
I did as I was told, coupled with a, “Please help him.”
They didn’t listen, the woman cuffing me, the tunnel filling with High Coven agents, not one of them doing anything aboutDrake. Some of them went ahead. I glanced over my shoulder to see them disappear around the bend.
“Eyes forward!” the witchcop ordered.
I did as I was told.
“He’s in bad shape,” a man crouched beside Drake said.
Finally! One of you gives a crap!
“Please help him,” I implored. “He’s dying.”
The woman grunted at me, tightening my cuffs. “Shut your mouth.”
“I—”
“Call it in,” she ordered the man, shoving me forward. “Start walking. Now.”
I obeyed, eyes on Drake. The guy made a call on his walkie-talkie while another injected him with stuff.
“What is it?”
“Stabilizer,” the woman answered. “Buys your friend some time.” She shoved me again. “Pick up the pace.”
Drake fell from my field of vision. “Where are you taking me?”
“Just keep moving.”
Probably the London High Coven HQ.
Damn.
She marched me up the stairs back into Molly’s secret room, then up into the main shop, where I could see the whole place had been ransacked. I trampled the merchandise as the witchcop shoved me out the front door.
God, she really didn’t stand on ceremony.
There wasn’t any sign of Molly amongst the gathering of agents and vehicles, but I saw a familiar pale-skinned man standing directly before us, his left blue eye hidden beneath an eyepatch. One of Erin Lovell’s contacts at the High Coven, based in Coldharbour, not London.
