Page 50 of Snag
“Explain this all to me,” I say to her.
“Ugh,” she groans affectedly. “All talk and no play makes Bellamy a bored and bloody awry. The last awry I saw wearing that necklace roiled with power.” She laughs darkly, taunting. “Speaking of cages …”
I blink, my stomach bottoming out.
That … she means …
She’s seen … my aunt? In a cage?
No one cages the Conduit. She has to be lying. But why would —
Reck lunges for Bellamy, stun gun thrust forward. He’s fast, even in his human form, even for my eyes. Though that could be because I’m suddenly and completely numb. Again.
Unfortunately for him, Bellamy has more than enough time to smirk, step slightly to the side, and pull a wicked-looking athame dagger from the pocket of her dress.
I blink.
The dire awry’s wrist is already dripping with blood. Imissed her cutting herself. Or she did it on the sly with the dagger tucked under her sleeve, not in her pocket at all.
Bellamy flicks a few drops of that blood toward Reck. Borne on a twist of her essence, the blood splatters across the stun gun, searing into Reck’s hand. The essence sparking around the gun fizzes, then smokes.
Reck grunts in pain, dropping the gun. But without hesitation, he wraps his other hand around Bellamy’s neck, pivoting to slam her against the wall.
She slits his throat with the athame, already muttering under her breath. A bastardized form of Latin, maybe. As if she needs actual words to cast. She doesn’t.
I blink a third time.
Rought surges forward, grabbing Bellamy’s wrist to twist it and the athame over her head— even while grabbing Reck’s shoulder and yanking him away from the dire awry.
Bellamy shrieks indignantly, slamming the palm of her free hand against Rought’s chest— along with an utterly foul spell. A curse so malignant it smells like burnt flesh.
All the blood dripping from her wrist and Reck’s blood on the edge of the blade sparks, then crumbles into ash.
Rought takes the direct hit of that combined power, stumbling back just enough for Bellamy to wrench her wrist free, then — oddly — drop to the ground.
I reach for her threads through the numbness. Though only seconds have passed, my mind is still lagging after Bellamy alluded to knowing or having seen my aunt. Logically, I know that feeling is purely psychological, not at all physically impairing, but it’s slowed me nonetheless.
Through a gap between Rought’s legs and Reck’s prone body, Bellamy looks up and meets my gaze. Shesmears her hand through the blood still pumping from Reck’s neck, spreading over the floor.
A red-tainted shadow coils up her arm.
A thread of essence.
She’s casting again. Using the life force contained in Reck’s blood to —
Rought makes a grab for Bellamy, snagging her by the hair and jerking her head sharply back.
“No!” I shout. Panicked, I lunge the last few steps between us. “Don’t touch her!”
At my command, Rought instantly releases Bellamy, reeling back with his hands up, slamming his back against the wall so I can get by him.
Bellamy’s power snaps out around her, then more of those red-shadowed threads try to grab Reck— and Rought. They slide right over me, barely registering to my senses.
I reach, getting hold of the strands tracing over the two shifters, entangling my two destined mates as if Bellamy is trying to compel them, or … transport them?
I cinch my hands around all of it. Then I yank. Hard.
Firmly attached to her own casting, Bellamy is dragged partly over Reck with a shriek. Instantly up again, kneeling on him, she pulls back against me.
