Page 122 of Witch Unexpected
“We’re trapped!” one of the witches cried.
Behind us, the snarl and growl of the wolves cut over the shriek of the banshees.
I pulled my dagger from its holster and turned to face the threat. “Then we fight.”
Chapter Thirty
The wolves attacked the revenants, tearing and clawing at them, but the fuckers wouldn’t stay down. Not without a negation spell, and only The Elites had that. The elder witches held hands and chanted to counteract the shrieking banshees. But once again, the only way to dispel them was with iron bombs.
We could fight, we could hold them off, but we wouldn’t be able to kill them.
We needed The Elites, but with the barrier spell locking us on the roof, was it even possible for them to reach us?
Bramble and I fought side by side, stabbing and wounding the banshees. There were five in total, floating around us, keeping us penned and attacking, sometimes one at a time, sometimesen force. My ears ached, my head felt like it was filled with cotton wool, and the urge to curl up and cry was a pulsing force in my chest.
The wolves took on the four revenants, holding them at bay.
How was this happening? Pen was gone. Unless…
“There’s another traitor,” Bramble shouted over the banshees’ cries.
She delivered a roundhouse kick to the nearest one’s head, then dropped and stabbed it in the stomach.
It reared back, squealing in pain. A minor reprieve for us because it would be back, but for a few minutes, it’d be four on two.
“We need to complete the ceremony!” Anna yelled. “Complete it, and we can assist by drawing from you. Charlotte is too weak to act as a conduit and maintain the seal.”
Fuck, where was Charlotte?
Bramble and I fell into place back to back.
“I don’t see her,” Bramble said.
I sliced my blade through the air to ward off the banshee gunning for me. “I don’t see her either.”
The banshees surged at us in unison. Bramble grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the circle. The banshees clashed, spinning into an angry black vortex, the sound of their screams unifying and becoming louder. The volume of the witches’ chanting dropped, and the banshee cry sliced through my brain.
“Oh fuck.”
* * *
SLOANE
There’s a fucking ward on the entrance to the roof. I can hear the screams. I can see shapes and smell blood, but I can’t get through.
Jessie stands with her hands raised. “It’s complex,” she says. “Chaos born.”
“Then it has a source. Find it.”
We set to work scanning the doorway, the floor, the brickwork. A chaos ward is always linked to obsidian rock. We just need to find the fucking thing.
“Got it!” Brie presses her fingers into the wall, trying to pry the sliver of crystal free.
“Fuck that.” Jessie shoves her aside and slams the hilt of her blade into the rock.
The air crackles and heat singes my face.
The ward is down, and the scene is revealed. Five banshees and four revenants. Motherfucker.
