I began the protection spell. I didn’t have my spell stones with me, but Ashworth had taught me how to create one without using anything as an anchor. It wasn’t the strongest of spells—at least, it wasn’t for me, thanks to the lack of practice—but it didn’t need to be.
Once the circle had shimmered into existence, there was nothing I could do but wait.
Seconds slipped into minutes. My breath was a harsh rasp that filled the silence; though Aiden was perched midway up the stairs, he was barely visible in the darkness and ghostly quiet. I felt alone, even if I wasn’t.
This time…
I ignored the intuition. One problem at a time.
An odd scratching sound had my gaze jumping back to the front door. A shadow passed across the wall of glass. A shadow that was winged and half formed.
The Manananggal.
I swallowed heavily and cast a warning glance to Aiden. He raised his gun in readiness, something I sensed more than saw.
Again the shadow passed across the glass. She knew I was in here. Knew I was waiting for her.
Tension curled through me, and I flexed my fingers. It didn’t help.
Her shadow appeared again, but this time she paused. Her eyes were ruby orbs that glowed with hunger and anger. Bile rose, and I swallowed heavily. If she didn’t damn well hurry up, she might just be met by the contents of my stomach rather than magic.
She pressed a clawed hand against the door; the lock tumbled, and the door clicked open. Magic. I hadn’t even felt it.
Her gaze swept the room, no doubt searching for traps. I hadn’t yet activated my cage, but I couldn’t help wondering if she’d sense it anyway. Some of the more powerful witches certainly could.
For several seconds, she didn’t move. She simply hovered midair, the long, slow sweeps of her wings making her entrails slap lightly against the glass on either side of the door.
Eventually, she moved in. The force of her energy stung my skin and had the hairs at the nape of my neck rising. And her scent… rotten meat smelled sweet by comparison. She was putrid.
I switched to breathing through my mouth, but it didn’t help any. The smell coated my throat and made my stomach churn harder.
She paused again, her gaze coming to rest on the salt lining the base of the stairs. “That little line of white does not deter me.”
Her voice was so harsh it hurt my ears. “Then cross it if you wish.”
“I do not wish.” She studied me, her eyes little more than narrow red slits. “You seek to trap.”
“No, I seek to kill.”
Her smile flashed, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “So do I.”
And with that, she attacked. Not physically, but magically. In little more than a heartbeat, she’d peeled back my protection spell to the point of collapse. I threw out a hand, pushing more energy into it. The threads stretched to breaking point but somehow held.
The force of her attack increased. The threads of my magic were pulsing, thinning in stress, but I fought the instinctive need to shore it up. I needed her to think she was winning. Needed her to come closer… just one more meter. That’s all I needed.
I closed my eyes, silently prayed that luck was on my side, and then let my protection shield fall. She laughed harshly and darted forward. I grabbed the knife, pushed backward, and activated the cage. It swept up and around her, surrounding her in an instant. She hit the fabric of its walls and screamed, tearing at the threads with her claws even as her magic began to pick and pull at them.
“Now, Aiden!”
He fired. Bullets ripped into her body but somehow bounced off her head. What the hell…?
I narrowed my gaze and saw the shimmer of magic around her skull. She was shielded, which likely meant the only way to kill her while separated like this was to get through that spell.
But how?
Holy water, Belle said. It counters evil.
I’ve never heard of it countering a protection spell, I replied, even as I scrambled for my purse.
You don’t need it to—weaken her, and you’ll weaken her protective magic.
I wasn’t sure the solitary vial I kept in my purse for emergencies would be enough to do that, but it wasn’t as if I had any other options or ideas. I unzipped the purse’s inner pocket and pulled the holy water free. The Manananggal was now ripping long threads of my magic free; it felt like she was ripping into me. My body shuddered and shook with every blow.
I screwed the top off the vial and then said, “Aiden, fire when this water hits her.”
“Will do.”
I spun and ran back. My cage was flickering, failing, the threads of the spell barely clinging together. She screamed when she saw me and lashed out. Her claws cut through the magic and hooked the edge of my dress. She screamed again and dragged me closer; her tongue flicked out, snake-like and needle sharp. I jerked my face back but felt a sting as one forked tip slid across my cheek. As warmth tricked to my chin, I raised the vial and threw the holy water at her face.
It hit her eyes, her mouth and her tongue; the response was instantaneous. Her skin began to bubble and steam, and her eyes exploded, splashing blood and God knows what else across my face. Even as I gagged and fell back, several shots echoed, hitting the Manananggal, spraying blood and gore and brains across the nearby wall.
Her screaming stopped, and she collapsed to the floor, lifeless and silent except for the bubbling hiss of the holy water still reacting against her skin.
I drew in a deep breath and dropped to my knees. Fuck, that was close…
That, Belle said heavily, has become an unsettling theme when it comes to
