Page 98 of Wolfsbane Hall
From the floor, three wooden pillars and snake-like ropes sprang and flew through the room, circling their bodies and tying each of the Specters to their pillar.
Did one of them allow it? Or did the house have its own personality sometimes?
The rest of the Ashbrooks watched on in utter fascination. If they wanted a show, she would give them one.
It didn’t matter. Celestine didn’t have time to find out.
“Save her.” She motioned with the gun at Babette. “You’re immortals. Bring her back to life.”
“If you answer the riddle correctly, you can save her,” Everett said.
But Celestine didn’t want to answer the riddle. This was her one act of rebellion. She wouldn’t let them win their bets—their death pools. She wouldn’t let them get away with their vile games.
The riddle would go unsolved forever, but she would save her friends and family—Babette and Frances.
Celestine cocked her pistol. “I said, save her.”
“Cellie, my love, just answer the riddle.” James’s voice was as soft and to the point.
Celestine shook her head. She pointed the gun at James and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his chest.
“We can’t die, Celine.” Dean’s eyebrows drew together, andhe looked at her like he wanted to hold her close and protect her, which she hated.
“No, but I bet that hurt.”
“It does,” James wheezed, blood dripping from his mouth.
“Save her.” Celestine motioned with the gun to Babette once more. “And save Frances, too.”
Everett’s lips fell into a hard line. “Cece, that’s not how this game works.”
“Do I look like I care?” She shifted the gun to Everett and pulled the trigger. “This is howmygame works.” Her violent gaze shifted to Dean. “Do you want to get shot, too?”
“No.” He sighed, his eyes sparking with sorrow. “If we do this, they will not thank you for it. She will probably hate you for all eternity.”
Celestine’s nostrils flared. “So be it.”
“You’ll have to release me.”
Celestine swallowed and tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Promise, you’ll only save them.”
“I promise.”
Celestine curled her toes into the floor. “Wolfsbane, release Dean.”
Dean got up and moved to Babette. With his eyes locked on Celestine, he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Dean cut open his wrist and forced his blood—his undiluted elixir—into Babette’s mouth, but when he was finished, the brunette didn’t wake up. Her body still had no sign of life or movement. Dean cupped Babette’s face and whispered an incantation that Celestine didn’t recognize. But Babette still didn’t wake.
“What’s wrong?” Celestine asked, holding the gun up, readying to shoot Dean, too.
“Nothing.” Everett coughed up blood. “It takes time to work. “Death takes time to shift.”
Dean left the room and presumably did the same thing to Frances. While Dean was out of the room, she watched as the other two brothers’ wounds knit back together in front of her eyes within minutes. It was good to know that she could affect them and cause them pain, but only for minutes.
If she shot them in the head, would it take longer to heal?
