Page 68 of Filthy Little Witch
I could fight it. I was amped up on adrenaline from our bond, but my tools were upstairs in my room. I hadn’t been as diligent about keeping them on me since we’d been stuck here. We hadn’t had any reason to.
“Wes, go get my tools. My satchel and the holy water.”
He turned and raced upstairs without argument, leaving Atlas and me to fight off the monster. I didn’t know how much good that would do, seeing as it was bigger than any demon I’d ever had to fight. And if it had gotten through the wards at the estate, it was more powerful, too. Fighting back the urge to run, I stood firm and held up my hand, pulling on the remaining energy from the grounds, sucking it up through my feet and into my chest.
“I expel you, demon,” I said. “By the ancestors and the great will of my coven, be gone from my sight. You are not welcome here.”
Deep, horrifying laughter echoed from all around us, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere.
“You cannot exorcise me here, witch,” it said. “This is my realm. You made it for me.”
I took a step back and grabbed Atlas’s hand as his vitality coursed through my veins. It was weak, nowhere near as strong as it was before we lost our bond, but it was undeniably there.
“Take it,” Atlas said. “Use it.”
I yanked on the tiny sliver of thread tying us together and drew as much of him into me as I could, reciprocating that energy with my own. Then, I chanted in Latin. I said the right words and I channeled the right energy, but the demon only seemed to grow in size. It towered over us, pitch-black mist swirling around us, its beady red eyes glaring down at me.
My spell did nothing. The demon laughed harder.
“I have enjoyed your attempts to defeat fate,” it snarled. “Your magic is exhilarating.”
I ignored its goading and kept going, kept focusing on my connection to Atlas, on the small trickle of magic I could pull from him, sending it out of my hand in a bright white light. But I was waning fast, and without my tools, I couldn’t hold it off much longer.
“Wes!” I reached out to him mentally, sensing his approaching presence. He was coming back, descending the stairs, storming toward us. He shoved the leather satchel in my hands, and I reached inside to get my holy water, but the distraction cost us.
The demon pulled on the ancient magic in the earth, tugging it from me as quickly as I could gather it. It fed its maelstrom, which grew to cover the entire lower level as it broke apart the walls and swirled furniture over our heads.
Wes handed Atlas his gun, and the two of them fired salt-loaded bullets into the fray. But it did nothing except piss the demon off more.
I realized three things in a matter of seconds. One: Holy water wasn’t going to cut it. Nothing I could do would defeat this magnitude of chaos. Two: The estate was finished. If it had consumed the wards and the ancestral magic, it would have pulled this place down with us in it. And three: We couldn’t stay here. We had to flee. We had to get to safety. But in the liminal, I didn’t know where that could be.
“Marta!” Atlas screamed in my mind, backing up so he stood at my left while he fired into the tornado of evil. “Do something.”
“We need to leave,” I said.
They didn’t wait to argue. The ceiling ripped apart, wood and cement crumbling around us as we took off through the front door. My heart pounded as my feet raced toward Leander’s truck. I hopped in the passenger seat while Atlas climbed in the driver’s and Wes took the back. He brought the vehicle to life just as the roof collapsed on the century-old building and, as we sped down the driveway, I watched my second home, my sanctuary, crumble into dust and ashes.
CHAPTER 22
Atlas
The spiraling mass of demon smoke followed us down the road, decimating trees and buildings and anything else it came into contact with. I tried to keep the truck steady, but the constant bombardment and loud explosions had me swerving to avoid massive pieces of debris. Marta grabbed my gun and stuck half her body out of the window to try firing at it, but that only agitated it more.
“Where are we going?” I shouted. “Is there any place safe?”
“I don’t know,” she said, sinking back into the truck. She rubbed a hand over her face and furrowed her brow as her mind raced. “Maybe a church? Maybe Tita’s house? But if it got through the wards at the estate, it could get through anything. Where? Where? Where?”
“Wes?” I asked, glancing in the rearview mirror, but Wes only shook his head and bit his lip, bouncing his leg nervously on the ground. His decision paralysis shimmied down the bond, and I slammed my hand on the steering wheel.
“Fuck!” I shouted, but then reminded myself to stay calm. Getting pissed off while we were running away from a monster wouldn’t help anyone.
“Saint Michael’s Catholic Church is five miles away,” Marta said. “I have no idea if it will work, but Michael is the great protector. We might be able to lose the son of a bitch and get some rest.”
I didn’t have any better ideas, so I turned right onto the road leading to the church and slammed my foot on the brake when we got there, skidding into park right at the entrance. We jumped out and raced toward the front door with the demon hot on our heels, wrecking the trees and buildings on either side of us. Marta and Wes were in front of me, taking the steps two at a time while I shot salt at the monster. Just as I was about to step into the sanctuary of hallowed ground, something ripped the ground out from under me.
Dark smoke wrapped around my ankles, slamming me down on my back. All the air rushed out of my lungs, and I banged my head on the cement steps as the demon lifted me into the air. The world faded out, and for a heartbreaking moment, I thought this was it.
This is how I die.
