mouth had gone hot and dry.
I blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then, Mynogan’s fuzzy form came snapping back into view. He remained transfixed and distracted by the blood. And I knew then. I knew what I had to do. It all made perfect sense.
Gathering my waning strength and knowing I had to be fast, I pulled back my right hand and plunged the dagger into Mynogan’s neck.
Startled, he stumbled back.
I was on him like some crazed lunatic in her hospital gown before he could draw on his power, arms and legs wrapping around him and sending him to the ground. Instinct took over. Thighs clamped firmly around his torso, I held his head down with my hand on his forehead and locked my mouth over the wound, pushing the horror of what I was doing from my mind.
The first taste of blood on my tongue threw me into another time and place. The time of Charbydon curses and rituals. The warm, sticky liquid slid down my parched throat, easing the hunger. I bled my blood into the aromatic grass and replaced it with pure evil.
The House of Abaddon had been cursed by blood. Blood to sustain them. And without blood, it would kill them.
Mynogan cursed loudly and struggled beneath me, trying to draw upon his power, but the source of it was his blood, the raw essence of life. And I was taking it for my own. His hand beat frantically at my back, but I ignored it. His power tried to shove me off, but I ignored that, too, taking it from him in long, thirsty gulps. His panic was raw and fierce, but he was weakening under the loss of blood.
No blood. No life. No Mynogan.
Desperate screams tore from his throat. Like a worm, he writhed in my grasp, his movements violent and fast. His voice broke. His nails dug into my back, carving deep, bloody ditches. I felt the skin open, but didn’t feel the sting.
I kept him pinned, sensing that all around me the circle of dark figures was frozen, taken aback by what they were witnessing. The power swirling within the circle threatened anyone stupid enough to enter.
He didn’t answer, but I sensed an agreement muted by shock.
Time slowed.
It felt like ages had passed, but, little by little, Mynogan’s body went limp. I relaxed my thighs and hands. The scent of blood hung heavy and sweet in the sticky air. My lips were numb, and my throat and cheek muscles sore from drawing and drinking.
I sucked hard at the last drop of blood from his being and, feeling full and disgustingly sick, I rolled off the body onto my back, my gaze connecting with moonlight and stars. My breath came heavy and fast. The blood that flowed from my arm slowed to a trickle.
My eyelids drooped, my heartbeat slowed.
The ground beneath me shuddered, rousing my waning attention. The moonlight and stars slowly disappeared as a cloudy haze filled the sky. Darkness shot up through the earth like smoke through a screen, swirling in the circle, the force of its wind making my hospital gown wave across my knees and stomach.
A deranged chuckle bubbled from my throat.
There was no way Mynogan’s blood could sustain me. I was human, not Charbydon, and I was dying here in a circle of smut. Smut that grew and burgeoned and would soon cover the city.
My laughter mixed with hot tears. I should have taken a desk job. I rolled to my stomach and crawled from the circle on my elbows and the insides of my knees, trying not to focus on my left arm flayed open like a butterfly shrimp.
Damned if I’d die in this crap.
Using the last of my will, for it was all I had left, I made it outside the circle and into cleaner air, the creek somewhere close by. I lay down, one side of my face cushioned by the soft grass.
I’d chosen to save my child and to try to save the city, too, and I knew in my heart that I’d done the
A small one-syllable chuckle eased through my lips, my breath stirring the grass and tickling my nose. Stupid thought. Stupid, unhinged Charlie. I wasn’t making it out of here.
CHAPTER 19
“Pick her up. Easy, you fool.”
“Call me a fool again, Rex, and you’ll be—”
“Guys, guys, c’mon. Help a siren out here. Carreg, grab her arm, make sure it doesn’t dangle.” Hands dug under me and lifted. My head thudded against a hard chest as another hand placed my wounded arm gently over my stomach.
The bounce of footsteps jarred me somewhat, but otherwise I was protected in a cradle of warmth. This must be some kind of residual memory. I’d died. Hank, Rex, and Carreg had come back to rescue me, but they were too late and now they were carrying my dead body home.
Suddenly, a burst of understanding jolted me. Carreg had made it. Rex and Hank were free from the lab. That meant … Emma was safe. A flood of relief soothed my thoughts. Emma was safe. Now I could rest in peace. Peace out. Laughter bubbled out of me.
“She’s laughing,” Rex’s voice sounded from somewhere behind me. “What the hell is she laughing about? Dude, maybe she’s brain damaged or something.”
Poor Rex. He was once just a spirit. Like me. He must be hearing my incorporeal self.
I was floating, floating over the grass and woods, and the crickets and katydids, through the crisp nighttime air. And into blackness.
“Uh, Charlie?” Fingers tapped my cheek. It was Will’s voice. “Hello? Can you hear me?” More annoying taps.
“Stop tapping her cheeks like that. She doesn’t like it.” This from Emma.
She was right—I didn’t like it.
“Momma,” she said, so close to me, I could feel the soft brush of her breath on my other cheek. It smelled like bubble gum. “Can you wake up now, please?”
Instinct lifted my hand, wanting nothing more than to run my fingers through her hair. A gasp reached my ear as my hand landed on a real head of soft hair. Stunned, my eyes cracked open.
I blinked rapidly until my sight adjusted to the overhead light and the grinning face hovering above me. “Emma?” I croaked out through papery lips.
I’d never seen her smile so big. She turned away from me for a second and said, “See, I told you I could do it. You owe me twenty bucks.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Rex muttered. “Here, you little thief.”
She grabbed the twenty and then turned back to me. “I love you, Mommy.” Then she hugged me tightly.
There was nothing like it in the world. I breathed her in, amazed and humbled that I was here. Apparently alive by some insane miracle. It all dawned on me at once. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, my eyes too dry for tears. God, she smelled so good.
Emma drew back, and I scrutinized every inch of her. She looked perfect and unharmed. Her brown eyes were bright, her auburn-brown hair in the usual ponytail, and those few freckles splattered across her little upturned nose. Over her shoulder, Rex was staring down at me with a happy, slightly goofy, smile.
I was in a hospital room, lying in an elevated position. To my left, Hank’s big sleeping body was sprawled
