Page 54 of The Bone Witch
I, however, am not so convinced.
Prek chuckles, but there’s not an ounce of genuine humor in it. “Typical Rogan,” he purrs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Always thinking he’s the star the rest of us simply orbit around.”
I try not to snort out a laugh of agreement. Nope. This prick could have killed us; I will not find him amusing or his assessment mildly accurate.
“Believe it or not, this visit isn’t about you,” Prek states, his tone suddenly bored as his dark gaze turns to me.
His sharp stare takes me in. His eyes drop to the pointed bone shards gripped in each of my hands and languidly make their way back up to mine. Curiosity flashes in his gaze for a brief moment, but it’s quickly replaced by jaded resignation.
“Lennox Osseous, you’ve been summoned to appear before the Order of Magic. This is not a request, but an order. You are to be taken into custody immediately and brought before the High Council.”
“Taken into custody?” I ask, bewildered, at the same time Rogan steps forward menacingly and growls, “For what?”
“Rogan Kendrick, this matter doesn’t concern you. You will back off and not interfere with the Order’s business,” Prek warns, but the light in his brown eyes screams that he hopes Rogan will do the exact opposite.
“Am I being arrested?” I demand, ignoring the higher pitch of the question and telling myself there’s no need to panic. I haven’t done anything arrest worthy, except maybe threaten Marx, but that was before I knew who he was, and Rogan cleared the whole misunderstanding up.
Prek doesn’t clarify, he just repeats, “Lennox Osseous, you’ve been summoned to appear before the Order of Magic. This is not a request, but an order. You are to be taken into custody immediately and brought before the High Council.”
Prek’s robot mode stops, and I look to Rogan, confused. Is this normal? If I’m simply supposed to go with them for somewelcome to the magical communityget-together, then why not just say that? Why attack us first? That doesn’t seem like something you’d do to facilitate an innocent introduction. It’s very possible shoving us off the road was less about me and more about whatever history is between Rogan and this prick, but being deemed sacrificial collateral damage doesn’t exactly make me feel any better about the situation.
Rogan turns and takes me in for a moment, as though he too is trying to work out what’s going on. It makes my stomach drop even more to see evidence in his gaze that what’s happening isn’t normal. I shake my headnoever so slightly. I don’t want to start shit with the Order, but everything inside of me is screaming not to go with them.
“Lennox Osseous, approach any member of my team so that you can be taken into custody,” Prek commands coldly.
Rogan steps protectively in front of me. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” he states evenly as though he hadn’t a care in the world and the Order doesn’t have us trapped in a grid.
Prek’s smile brightens, and for the first time since he’s revealed himself, he looks genuinely pleased. Alarm bells ring in my mind as the chuckle that bubbles out of him is tinged with pure delight. “Oh, Kendrick, I wasreallyhoping you’d say that.”
With a movement so fast I don’t even have time to register it, all hell breaks loose around us. The earth beneath our feet begins to undulate as though it’s really the sea and had us fooled the whole time. I start to fall back, but Rogan pulls me to him, slamming me into his unforgiving chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of me. Air leaves my lungs in a rush, and then it betrays me even more by turning and trying to pull me from Rogan’s hold.
Wind assaults me from every angle, and for something that technically isn’t tangible, it feels like a giant fist wrapping around me while bellowingfee fi fo fumand promising to crush my bones into paste. I scream, but it’s torn away from me by the attacking gale. I hang onto Rogan for all that I’m worth, but suddenly he’s choking and coughing up water, desperately working to dispel the liquid from his lungs.
Terror seizes me. I know I have fractions of a second before I’m torn away and might very likely be forced to watch Rogan die. Part of me wants to argue that this isn’t right, the Order can’t just go around doing this to innocent witches, but I’m not that naive.
Fear swirls in Rogan’s eyes as he clutches onto me in a bruising hold with one hand and claws at his throat with the other. Heaves and wet coughs wrack his body, as once again everything goes so wrong so fast. Rage explodes through me, my blood heating with the potent and punishing need for vengeance.
In a flash, I lash out with my magic and snap my tethers to the bone matter all around me taut. Bone matter that this coven of witches has been breathing in while they waited for Prek’s next orders. I bypass any protection amulets they might have leaving their bones alone and only calling to the particles of powder I sneakily introduced to their systems. I wrap the tethers of magic connecting me to each of the Vicinal Witches surrounding me, around my fist, and all at once shut each of them down.
Thoughts of mercy flee my mind as I direct the bone powder to close their airways. The assaulting wind around me stops, and Rogan falls to his knees, coughing and finally able to try and breathe. Witches around me wheeze and choke, their gurgles slowly growing silent as their wide panicked eyes turn terrified.
I should feel bad as I pull air deep into my lungs and watch unconsciousness—and I know eventually death—creep into the visages of the witches all around me. But my compassion and sympathy have fled. There’s no doubt in my mind that each and every one of them would gladly kill Rogan, kill me, and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.
Fury scalds me as one witch drops to her knees, her hood flung back to reveal carrot orange hair and a purple hue to her oxygen-starved skin. Her eyes plead for me to stop, but where was her mercy, her pardon, when I was in a car flipping down the embankment, or when Rogan was being drowned from the inside out?
Other witches fall to their knees, weak and clasping at their impotent throats, but I ignore them and move closer to Prek. I want to see his face as karma bitch-slaps him across it. I want him to look into my eyes as his vision speckles with blackness, so that he knows without a shadow of doubt thathisvicious actions are what sealed not only his fate, but the fate of everyone on his team.
Fear swims in his gaze as he looks up at me from where he’s fallen to the now still ground. He blinks, and then something weird happens. A trail of crimson trickles out of the corner of his eyes. I watch it move down his cheeks slowly, and then see another line of blood drip down from his nose. He’s bleeding.
“Leni, stop!” Rogan croaks, and then he’s overcome with coughs, the sound of them thankfully dry, indicating that he’s dispelled all the water from the abused organs.
I ignore him, too captivated by the trail of blood now seeping out of Prek’s ears. I’ve never watched anyone being strangled to death; maybe the blood is normal. Something niggles at the back of my mind, screaming at me that this isn’t normal. That I shouldn’t be so calm about something so wrong, so utterly horrifying like watching someone die. But it’s as if any ability to care was stripped from me.
Maybe I’m in shock or suffering from some kind of traumatic brain injury. Or maybe I’ve just had enough of other magic users thinking they can do whatever they want to me with no repercussions. Whatever it is, I’m far past the point of caring.
“Leni, Love, what are you doing?” a luscious and silky voice coos at me.
I pull my gaze from the lines of blood paving their way down Prek’s face and look over to find Marx. Surprise flashes through me, quickly replaced by suspicion. What is he doing here? As though he can read the question in my eyes, his lips tilt up in a carefree smile, but it doesn’t match the worry in his espresso-colored eyes.
