Page 83 of The Rat King
“Nighval,” I beckoned, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, but he kept his eyes locked on her as he angled his body in front of mine.
“How did I raise a son with such poor manners? At least your bride knows when to submit.”
“You didn’t raise me,” he growled. “Now get out.” Nighval motioned for the warlocks to advance.
“I think not,” she said, not budging as they moved nearer to get a more direct line on her. “Your slight will cost you, and until you come to accept me, I’ll make you suffer.” Her voice took on a crazed tone and as her hands lifted, I saw Nighval share a glance with Link and Eshan.
Samara tossed a black silk pouch up into the air and sent a spear of power after it. When it struck, a cloudlike fog tore across the ceiling as tiny bolts of lightning danced within it causing the lights to pop and go out. Shrieks came from the stunned crowd as they were overtaken with darkness as only the glow from the warlocks and the remaining candelabras lit the room in eerie shadows.
Nighval’s voice boomed as he yelled, “Get down.”
Her face twisted with barely restrained anger as she noted the location of each readied warlock. “The insolence,” she hissed. As the crowd dropped, several bolts of lightning shot out from Samara’s hands, aiming toward the magic wielders who raised colorful shields as the power blasted into them.
“Stop this, Samara,” I begged. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We can get you a place setting and continue with the celebration.” I didn’t know exactly how I would pull that off considering she ruined half of the main table, but if she would just stop this, we could manage. This woman just wanted acceptance for who she was, just like Nighval. But he had never turned into a lunatic like this witch.
Her eyes pierced into me through the darkened room, and a full body tremor wrapped through me. “It’s too late, child.” She didn’t break eye contact as a geyser of power shot toward the dais. Would she really kill us? I knew she wanted to scare us and satisfy the gaping hole in her chest where her heart should be, but I didn’t think she would actually kill her last remaining son.
Link and Nighval darted forward to throw up a protective shield and when her blast hit it, white-blue flames exploded from the impact. The crowd screamed, many of them were crawling beneath the tables as the warlocks battled the witch.
I stood there stunned, before Jetta’s smooth fingers wrapped around my arm. “Come on,” she said, tugging. She pulled me back further onto the dais, so we were shielded behind the two large thrones that sat there. I peeked around the corner to see more explosions. It seemed even a few of the guests were lesser mages and were blanketing groups of guests with protective spells.
A surge of energy, much like a miniature nuclear explosion, surged out from the middle of the table, but instead of a mushroom cloud following it, the space where Samara had been, was vacated.
Jetta cried out from beside me and Samara’s fingers wrapped around her face, digging into her pale skin. Her face went ghostly white, and her eyes rolled back in her head before she dropped to the floor.
“No,” I cried and swung my fist toward the witch, but before it struck her jaw, it froze in midair. Then she grinned and darted a hand forward, grabbing ahold of the hair at the back of my neck.
In a blink, we were standing in the middle of the room on top of the table where she had first arrived, and she had a dagger pointed at my throat.
“Hold your fire,” Nighval called, and the warlocks lowered their magic-encased hands. “Let her go.”
“Maybe this will teach you to show your mother a little more respect,” she said, and began chanting some incoherent magic I didn’t recognize.
A prickling sensation zipped through my body before agony chased after it, and a scream burst from my lips. The pain lanced through me like every bone in my body was being broken at once and then I was weightless. Samara’s hand still gripped the hair at the back of my neck though now I was dangling from her hand in a much smaller form. An instinctual panic shot through me with a severity I’d never experienced before.Flee, it bellowed.Flee, flee, flee.
Something was very wrong.
Chapter 59
Nighval
Watchingthatwitch’sdarkpower dance over my wife was what nightmares were made of. Horror etched itself into my bones as I watched the woman I loved transform into a six-inch-long rat. Mother or not, I was going to kill Samara Wrede.
Pretty amber flecked eyes were now beady, black, and terrified. I wasn’t sure if she understood what had happened to her or if she was even still her, but before I could beg or do anything to get my wife back, they were gone. I wanted to fall to my knees and bellow, but I was king. I could not.
Within a few seconds, Link and Eshan were at my side, and the other warlocks joined them. I glanced over to Leviticus, whose face had taken on a sickly hue. “Get them out of here,” I commanded. The frazzled man nodded and went about ushering the guests out of the room.
“She’ll take her to the Wildwood,” Link said.
I scraped my nails across my scalp. Avery was still alive. I had to remind myself of that, so I didn’t crumble inwardly.
“We should go after her,” Link said, with a little more urgency.
“We need to think. I don’t think Samara will kill her or cause any permanent damage.” Just thinking about everything Avery had been through until this point made me sick. The thought of her going through anymore suffering because of me and my family made my stomach churn relentlessly. I had felt murderous before, but that was nothing like I felt now.
Before she sent that first blast, I felt an ocean’s worth of power inside me trying to crack open. I should have smashed the dam holding it back before she flinched. Now we were at her mercy. I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to come groveling.
“If there’s a spell where we can all channel our power together. If we could somehow get to her house without her knowing—”
