Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Wynter didn’t look back. She continued to walk casually along the path of the plaza. She stopped near the mouth of an alley, feigning being lost, and then began to walk down the aforementioned alley in search of an exit.
She’d reached the large barbed fence at the rear of it when she heard the heel of a shoe scuffing the pavement. She turned and found herself facing a bulky male with a mean scar slicing diagonally from his hairline to an eyebrow.
She jutted out her chin, going for belligerent. “Problem?”
He smirked. “Not anymore. I’ve been looking for you for some time. And now I have you.”
The monster within her woke from its slumber and studied their enemy. Wynter would rather not free it here. Anyone could walk past the alley and see too much—she couldn’t risk that. Sending it telepathic images, she showed it what she had in mind for this asshole, knowing from past experience that the bloodthirsty entity was occasionally happy to watch.
As he took a step toward her, she said, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Oh, you think I’m here to collect on the bounty? I am. Kind of. You see, you’re wanted alive. But a mage has offered me yet more money to instead kill you. I’ll never turn down more cash.”
Irritation surged through her. She really should have executed the families of her killers long ago.
“He also wants me to make it hurt.” Wicked fast, the male witch raised his hand and let out a gust of magick that sliced at her skin, sharp as a scalpel.
Fucking ow. Ignoring the pain, Wynter struck with her own magick. Toxic and scorching hot, it lashed his face and neck, leaving deep welts that sizzled like meat on a grill.
He retaliated fast while chanting under his breath, blasting her with blue fire. She jerked back, but the cold flames seared her lips and chin. Oh, this fucker was going down.
She whacked him with a heavy surge of magick that sent him colliding into a dumpster. Even as he slid to the floor, he hit her with blue fire again, but he hadn’t moved fast enough—she’d already called to her sword and angled it just right so that the blade deflected the flames.
Then she was on him.
She could have made this quick, but … nah. She jammed her thumb against a bleeding welt on his face and sent a dart of magick straight into his bloodstream.
He cried out as an inky blackness slicked its way up his veins. His skin paled and softened at first, looking almost papery. But soon, it became red and swollen and veiny. He cursed in shock and pain as blood blisters formed over his body; some burst, giving off a cloying rank smell.
What happened next … yeah, it’d make anyone queasy. His flesh began to blacken. Dry up. Peel. Decay. The rotting magick ate at his body, including his lips, making his mouth look like an obscene hole in his face. His teeth cracked and crumbled, and two of his withered extremities fell off.
The otherworldly breeze that had earlier carried a warning now danced over Wynter’s skin, humming with approval. Similarly, the monster within her settled once more, satisfied with how she’d handled the situation.
Just as the inky blackness in his veins reached the witch’s scalp, his eyes darted to the side of her now-burning face and widened almost comically.
Knowing her mark was visible, Wynter gave him a bright smile. “Yeah, you went and fucked up. I could have killed you quickly but, as you can now see, making people hurt … well, it’s what I’m built for.” And so she waited for the life to fade from his eyes before she sliced off his head.
*
Walking up the path toward the cottage a short while later, Wynter puffed out a breath. Dealing with the male witch had been … well, fun, to be honest. But it hadn’t exactly improved her day, considering she’d failed to find work. Figuring the job-seeking was a waste of time, she’d decided to head home after using one of Anabel’s nifty potions to disintegrate the witch’s body. Wynter had used a separate potion to heal her wounds.
The blonde insisted on them carrying ‘evidence ridding potions,’ paranoid that death would come for them any moment and that they’d need to cover their asses. It was at times like this when Wynter was glad of it.
Strolling into the cottage, she found both Delilah and Xavier slouched on the plush sofa. “Any luck?”
Delilah pulled a face. “Nu-uh. I went to all the herbalist stores. None of the witches want an outsider working for them, and they were seriously snarky. I almost had to smack a bitch down.”
Xavier rubbed at his nape. “The witches I spoke to were just as reluctant to hire an outsider. I asked about the job opening in a bar on the surface, but the mage who ran it said I’d have to join his conclave—apparently, they’ll take in any magick user.”