Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“All right, good,” I told the hand. “Now fly across the stream and slide into his mouth.”
The tiny, magic hand did as I told it to—it flew across the rushing waters of the stream and slid between the big Orc’s slack jaws. I flexed my fingers but found I couldn’t feel what the little hand felt nearly as well. There was a vague warmth—nothing more.
I was going to have to get closer if I wanted to do this.
There was no time to hesitate—Rath’s body might wake at any minute. Taking a deep breath, I plunged into the stream again. Doing so much magic had warmed me up and nearly dried me out too. Now I was wet and shivering all over again as I pulled myself out onto the bank beside the willow tree and Rath’s limp body.
But at least now I could feel what the hand felt again. I made it stroke Rath’s tongue and I felt the rough texture of it. Good—we were back in contact.
“Slide down lower,” I told the hand. “Down his throat though—don’t go into his lungs.”
I felt it going, sliding down the slick walls of the big Orc’s throat and into the wet warmth of his big body as I mimed the actions. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I was positive I would know it when I felt it.
Sure enough, about halfway down the seeking magic fingers felt something that didn’t belong. Instead of being smooth and warm and wet, it was hard and cold—like a jagged lump of ice, I thought. I was going to have to be careful pulling this thing out—it felt like it had sharp edges that might cut Rath up inside.
“Grow—surround it,” I ordered the magic hand as I mimed wrapping my fingers all around the jagged lump. “Then pull—we have to bring it out.”
Everything seemed to be going smoothly until I started to pull. As the hand slid upwards, holding the sharp, cold lump, I felt it come to a sudden stop.
“Pull!” I ordered the hand. “Harder!” As I spoke, I mimed pulling myself, making my hand into a fist and yanking upwards.
It really was like tugging on a plant with stubborn roots. I could feel them giving but it was a slow process and I didn’t want to yank too hard for fear of injuring Rath internally.
But just as the roots started to lose their hold, I saw his eyelids flutter and he began to cough and choke.
“Harder! Faster!” I told the hand, pulling upwards. I could feel that the roots were still hanging on to part of Rath—I had to get them loose and get Milas James out of him before he woke all the way up!
“You…you little witch!” a weak voice scolded me. Rath’s eyes were open again and they were blazing red. “How dare you try to remove me?”
I gave up on the idea of bringing the jagged lump out smoothly. With all my might, I yanked upwards on my magic.
“Now!” I shouted at the hand. “Fucking now—get it out of him!”
There was a choking roar from Rath’s throat and then I felt the roots give at last as I tore them out of him. As I yanked my arm upwards, the magic hand came out of his mouth at last.
It was as big as my own hand now and it was holding a disgusting writhing slug-like creature. It had shiny, slimy black skin and it squirmed in the hand’s grasp, trying to get free. Long roots like black arteries dangled from its underside, writhing helplessly in the air.
“Take it to the stream!” I shouted at the hand. “Go over the stream and hold it there!”
As I spoke I made a casting motion with my own arm. The glowing magic hand shot out over the water and hovered just above the middle of the stream. The black pulsing artery roots dangled in the rushing water. It seemed to hurt them because they writhed and shrank away, trying to keep from getting wet.
“No! No, you bitch!” I heard a tiny voice screaming. “No, don’t you dare! You spawn of Satan! You witch! You—”
“That’s about enough of that,” I said and squeezed my fingers into a fist.
The magic hand did the same, squeezing the life out of the black slug-like creature which was all that was left of Milas James’ corrupted soul. I could feel it—slimy and dank and evil. It needed to die once and for all and I was the only one who could kill it.
“That’s right, Sarah—you’re the one! The only one!”
“The Natural Witch!”
“I knew she would come!”
“I knew she could do it!”
Suddenly the air around me was full of voices—the voices of all the Pruitt women—all the witches who had come before me. I heard them and I felt them. They were here to witness this event—it was something they had waited for, in some cases for centuries.