Page 59 of Spell Ya Later

I wanted time. Time to learn how to defend myself, to learn how to defeat a creature like this. To learn how to get information out of daemons. Because there is a chance—albeit a small one—that this thing knows what killed my dad. I had a plan and now it’s all gone to absolute shit.

Grandma’s meditation techniques go through my head. I can’t have a panic attack about how I wanted things to go and how I’m going to die right now.

“I’ve heard of you.”

The grin on his face spreads, fangs practically jumping out of his mouth. “You flatter me, Hazel.”

“Trust me, that wasn’t my intention.” Hell, yeah. There’s that false bravado.

Strong arms cross against his chest, claws poking out of his long, black sleeves. “You snap like an animal caught in a trap.”

“Only one of us kidnaps children, so who is the real animal here?”

A stinging slash as bright as the sun breaks against my cheek, pain following immediately after. He hasn’t moved an inch, yet hot droplets of blood roll down my skin.

“You talk too much,” he growls. His voice is an evil mix of animalistic growl and human lilt. “An unfortunate trait you witches tend to share.”

Yes, I’m buying time, asshole. My hand touches my cheek and I wince. The cut is deep.

“I can honestly say that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of that.”

“I have a message for the Pruitt witches.”

“And here I have nothing for you in return. How rude of me.” My entire being is vibrating with the knowledge that I’m going to die right now.

“I don’t mind, sister. Besides...” A sickening, face-splitting grin breaks on his face. “The message isn’tforyou. You are the message.”

Oh, shit.

I close my eyes as my entire body slams against a tree. Pain splinters from my back down every single nerve. I’m held aloft against the tree as if pinned by a thousand nails.

I open my eyes to the sound of boots crunching across the leafy bed of the clearing. He approaches, red eyes blazing with the promise of exactly what he’s going to do with me.

I don’t expect mercy.

“No words now? No smart comments?” Hetsks. “So disappointing.”

“Let me down and I’ll tell you exactly what I think about you.” Blood drips from my mouth, spotting the leaves below.

He chuckles. It’s the confident chuckle of someone who enjoys playing with their food—and lucky for me, I’m the meal.

One sharpened talon trails along the exposed skin at my navel where my shirt rode up. It’s like a fancy knife, so sharp the slice doesn’t start to bleed until a few seconds after. The snake’s tongue gently flickers at a droplet.

“There’s a beauty in marring skin with no scars.”

“What do you hope to accomplish by killing me? You’ll only piss off a bunch of powerful women who will kick your ass.”

He laughs. “I doubt they’ll ever find me. I’m doing this...Well, because I was asked to, and it was too tempting an offer to refuse. This quarrel isn’t mine. I have no intention of sticking around for the aftermath.”

“You’re someone’s errand boy? I should’ve known. You don’t have main character energy.” If I’m going to die, I’m going to piss him off enough that he makes it quick.

His talon slices in a thin line down my right arm—straight through the vein, if the blood gushing out is any indication.

My head is lighter and I don’t know if it’s spinning or if the earth is moving a bit faster. The taste of blood is metallic on my tongue.

“Draven was right about you lot. Talkative, cocky, and weak.”

Draven? Who is Draven?