Page 62 of Venomous Lies
“Bones will take it better from you than Hellsing,” Isla whispered. “And… I need?—”
“What do you need?”
Her head lolled to the side as a soft white light started to shine around her. Junichiro’s expression was focused, though his eyes seemed faraway.
“Go, both of you, and bring back the ones we need. Then we will need to discuss what is going on.”
“It seems we will be sharing information with more people than we thought,” I replied as Demir took a deep breath and forced himself to move.
“Yes, it does seem that way,” the vampire replied almost absently, his attention on the witch. At this point, she seemed to be glowing from within.
His gaze didn’t leave the witch as I left to find Bricriu. I wanted to skin him alive for claiming Isla, for tasting her before I had a chance. Right now, though, she needed him.
I didn’t want to be needed.
If I said that enough, maybe I’d start to believe it.
As if the past five hundred years hadn’t already convinced me of it.
Chapter 19
Bricriu
MONDAY
Ceremonial Magick was going to be the death of me. Attempting to read these rituals, written out in sprawling script, was giving me a fucking headache.
Hell, at this point, it felt like my eyes were throbbing. I sat in my home, trying to reset in the peace and quiet of my own space.
Being in the woods reminded me of Isla.
The smell of damp earth, dirt, and the plants themselves—it was her.
After the incident in the dining hall, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The rush of power that I’d felt when she lost control and the tugging feeling in the pit of my stomach as she usedmymagick to strike the other witch.
Someone having access to my powers should make me feel violated, but with Isla, it just felt… odd. How she drew it to her and used it was so different from how I controlled it.
Fae are taught that illusion magick is a subtle art, so each stroke of the imagination should be slow and methodical.Your imagination and control were what made the illusion magick into something great.
But subtlety wasn’t something Isla cared about.
It felt as if she had dipped her hand into the well then hurled it at Allison. She didn’t care about finesse; she used rage as her conduit for the magick, and it showed.
Allison’s mouth was gone.
And despite my conversation with her and Wells, it was my opinion that there was no way Allison would be able to magickally recover from it.
Could she survive with the help of human advances? Yes.
But witches were often odd when it came to things like that.
“Bricriu, you’re being lax with your awareness today,” a familiar voice crooned. The hint of sweet smokiness heralded Ambrose’s presence. “How reckless of you.”
I opened my eyes, and my smartass retort died on my tongue once I realized how close the fae was.
Ambrose’s coat brushed my fingers as he knelt in front of me, leaning closer so I could see his face, something he had never bothered doing before.
“What are you—?” I started to ask as I leaned back.
