Wolf's Kin (Monstrous Hearts #3)

Chapter Six

See how blood gushes between stiff fingers while the witch clutches at the ruins of her face? Bright and thin, splattering the ground until the soil is soaked through. Filling her throat until her breath is reduced to a gurgle. The black wolf wasn't kind, and the witch's remaining acolyte can barely look at her, instead tearing fabric apart for makeshift bandaging.

Curses are spat out with broken teeth. Hands tremble while wrapping strips around missing features. Only the figure beside them remains calm, studying the grotesque sight with a puzzled air. She's hardly more than a girl, this one, her hair very dark against a gown as delicate as froth, and her eyes very bright in the dour gloom of dusk. In the final rays of light, the slab of rock she perches upon appears unremarkable, squat and misshapen in its bed of ferns. Only the lingering red stains give hint to its true purpose.

Oh yes, this is damned ground, and only damned creatures gather here, hidden in the shadows of an abandoned quarry long reclaimed by the trees. The reek of blood and fear always hangs heavy in the air, and yet it's now these witches who add to it, terror thick in their sweat. Their most precious ritual will happen tonight, and each rasping breath reminds them that they're no longer the most dangerous creatures in the forest. Something else has arrived. Something else now hunts.

"Stop flinching, Babette." Only Portia's eyes remained visible, flat and furious as they peered out from a mask of white fabric rapidly staining red. "He didn't so much as bite you."

"But he saw me," said Babette, tying off the final strip. Her gaze darted all around, as if she expected teeth to flash out from the nearest shadows. "He looked right at me while tearing off Bettina's head. As good as saying that I'd be next. And how could he do this to you? The bleeding hasn't stopped at all."

"Hush," hissed Portia, the word clotting in her throat.

Too late. The girl on the altar turned toward them, still stroking the rough granite and its gruesome stains. "Yes, what was he, Mother? How could he hurt you?"

Portia's tone immediately sweetened. "Don't trouble yourself, my pet. There are more important things to think about, especially for you. Nothing must stop this ritual. We've worked too hard for it."

The girl's expression cleared. Then her mouth curved into a dreamy smile. "I've worked too hard. After all, he's coming for me."

"Of course, my darling." Portia waited until her daughter nodded and looked away before her voice lowered, harshened into something meant only for Babette's ears. "I don't know what that creature is. All I'm sure about is that the girl he's guarding was part of Vanna's offering."

"Sabotage?" breathed Babette. "Would she be that bold?"

"Possibly. We'll learn more once she arrives." Then Portia gingerly pressed at her face, testing where blood had already seeped through. "It's such a pity, not having time to fix this. I wanted to look my best in front of the others while they're being forced to honor us. But it doesn't matter. After tonight, his favor will lift us far above them."

"Including me?" asked Babette. "Surely, being Celeste's dear friend will give me a glimpse of his power."

"We're not friends," said the girl, still watching the rising moon. "Being friends means you like each other."

"As your loyal acolyte, then." Babette stared at Portia, fresh desperation etching her forehead. She was just a girl herself, pinched in the face and thin in the body, hair and eyes equally colorless. It was as if every inch of her that could be spared had long since disappeared, given over to Portia in the effort to move from acolyte to coven member. When silence stretched on, she trembled like a beaten dog, leaned forward like an eager vulture. A ragged little ghost that had lost everything except her hunger.