Isabella caught part of what Bullet and Ella shouted, but she didn’t have time to chat. If she caught the bitch, she could kill her, and she couldn’t afford to stand around debating about it. Without examining why the goddess would appear now, she raced through the thin mist in the direction the woman vanished. The clouds of fog rose around her, curling like steam, only she shivered with the damp and cold. Weaving around moss-covered headstones, she darted through the cemetery with adrenaline pumping and driving her at warp speed.
Snatches of the tall, slim woman dressed in burgundy flickered in and out of the smog until she stood by a mausoleum surrounded by black iron rails. Isabella slowed her speed as branches snapped underfoot. She checked over each shoulder to make sure the Morrigan hadn’t backtracked and held her blade ready as the mist rolled in and out like waves at the ocean. One minute, she couldn’t see an inch in front of her; the next—shit. The striking lithe woman she had been pursuing stood a foot away, beckoning and daring for her to come and get her on the path by the tomb.
Isabella sniffed. Magic hovered in the air, explaining why she couldn’t dispel the fog, but nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. She could do this! Isabella charged as the mist parted before her and the woman smiled, flying at her. Holding her blade tight in her hand, Isabella flicked it, slicing right across the woman’s throat, and she dropped to her knees to prevent any retaliation. The mist closed in around her, but she knew the blade reached the target. Twisting around, she moved to stand, ready to plunge the dagger in the Morrigan’s heart, but she stuttered.
She stared at the snow on the ground, which had drops of blood. She lifted her knee to stand, but a wave of giddiness swept through her, toppling her flat to the ground. The damp earth seeped into her clothes. She coughed, spitting up blood, and gasped for air and understanding. She frantically clutched her own throat as sticky blood gushed between her fingers. The pungent smell of iron filled her nostrils and trickled down her throat, blocking her airway. Blood poured down her shirt and she twisted away, staring into the mist. I’m dying. Through the haze, an outline of a woman approached her. Ready to stick the final knife in. Instead, she blew her a kiss. The last thing Isabella witnessed before she slipped away was the woman’s vivid green eyes. The woman facing her was herself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ella cradled Nate but pushed at Bullet, who held her back from Isabella. She tugged his sleeve, insisting he listen to her demands, but he led her away from the tomb, speaking into his mouthpiece. The last fifteen minutes were a blur. Everything happened so fast. Holding Nate for dear life, she couldn’t believe that the Morrigan had appeared and hurt Isabella. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. The light was fading, but she caught the sight of a growing pool of blood next to her friend. A single black crow perched on the old light by the tomb, squawking. Ella pressed Nate to her chest, protecting him from the cold and anything else seeking to do him harm.
“Yes, boss, I need an ETA. We have one down, badly injured. We need an urgent medical evac.”
Ella heard Bullet relay the situation. She didn’t know how severe the injuries to Isabella were, or whether she was alive or dead. The stubborn mule in front of her wouldn’t let her near the woman. Exasperated, she kicked the guard’s boot.
“Mrs. Drayton, please don’t. Coca-Cola is her best option at the moment and he can’t do shit if you’re there. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m her best option. Here, take the baby. Take Nate, right now, Bullet, or so help me God, I’ll do more than kick you,” she shouted.
The man arched his brow but kept his arms folded. She pressed the small bundle into the brick wall of steel and he studied the tiny infant as if it had three heads. But he sighed and caught hold of him. Once she was satisfied he wouldn’t drop Nate, she charged off. Ella should have known when the old woman bent over the grave next to Josephine’s something was odd, but when the wrinkled lady limped and turned to leave, she didn’t sense anything unusual about her. The old woman smiled down at Nate. She asked his age and commented on his lovely blond curls. While she held the flowers for Josephine’s grave, she nodded at the woman who spoke as she gripped the stroller.
“Nate—such a strong name. Untainted innocence holds the strongest power of all, you know.”
The woman’s voice changed from the scratchy sound to butter soft, as did her appearance. In the blink of an eye, instead of the old crone stood a lethal opponent dressed from head to foot in a burgundy catsuit. Long dark hair reached her waist. Ella screamed, but the guards, Bullet and Coca-Cola, stood frozen like statues. When Isabella appeared out from the fog, the woman ran away. Moments later, the witch followed. She didn’t want Isabella to go, and shouted at her to stay, but she couldn’t stop her.
“Mrs. Drayton, please, she’s bled out, and her pulse is weak. Go and sit in the Range Rover.”
Staring down at the pale Isabella, snow falling around them and covering the ground she lay on, she dropped to her knees to help. Shoving her thoughts aside, she shouted, “Move—I can stop the bleeding.”
Coca-Cola glanced at her, but did as instructed; she pressed her hand over the open bloody wound at the witch’s throat. She snapped her eyes shut. Blood spurted; it flowed over her hand and she increased the pressure. Blocking
