Page 30 of Witchy Chick

I lay there staring up at the moon while the wind rose, and then it started to rain. Because we needed mud. I choked on the water and mud while I struggled to my feet. What could I use for a weapon? I lunged for a branch, but it was not very straight. Oh well. I held it like a baseball bat, turning around while the skeletons slogged towards me. Were their eyes glowing? Yes, they were, a creepy pink that matched the powder room’s toilet.

The first skeleton reached me, and I hit it across the head with a crack, sending the skull flying off the neck, but its body kept coming.

I was like that, fighting to the death, when a tear ripped down the sky, and out stepped a creature of lightning and metal, eyes burning blue in his sockets, hair whipping around a face etched in vengeance. He caught the flying skull, holding it in his large hand.

His shirt rippled in the wind, a few buttons open showing the flickering lines drawn on his broad chest. Ah. Like Ray of Sunshine’s tattoos. Did he have them on his knuckles? Yes. Also on his face. Guy had flickering designs on his cheeks, like an extra set of eyes beneath the terrifyingly burning ones plus some other lines because he needed to be more terrifying.

Skeletal arms grabbed me from behind, and I didn’t do anything because that creature was floating in the air, holding the skull I’d knocked off its body. Was he the skeleton’s soul? Did that make sense? Lightning wrapped around the man. A rush of wind tore through the graveyard, lifting all the skeletons, and then with a downward sucking sensations, all the skeletons whooshed back into the ground, knocking me back as the bones holding me vanished.

The lightning levitator guy threw the skull at the ground the rest of the skeleton had gotten sucked into, and then the rain stopped, and everything was amazingly quiet and still.

My breathing wasn’t quiet. I was breathing hard, panting and blinking and in general feeling like this dream was way too real, and weird, and detailed. Like the feel of bones pressing against my throat, and the mud caked all over me. And the too-bright guy slowly lowering to stand in front of me.

He gestured with his hand.

I stared at him, holding my branch tight. “What?” I finally croaked.

“You may begin the battle.”

“Battle?” I repeated, feeling like I’d just been in a skeleton mosh pit. Was I supposed to swing at him? That seemed more stupid than was necessary.

His creepy eyes flickered. “Yes. Unless you’d rather I take you in without a fight. That doesn’t happen often. Those who are taken in are never released.”

I raised a shaky hand, pointing at him. “You’re the Council’s Teeth?” And now I understood why they called him teeth instead of something scary. Because this person was so terrifying, they were trying to downplay it. If you were going to call yourself a council and pretend you were legit, but you were using someone like this, a force of barely leashed nature, you wanted to pretend he wasn’t terrifying enough to rip the world apart.

“That is what I’m called, yes. You didn’t awaken an entire graveyard and not expect me to come stop you.”

“Well…I should have expected that. I’ve been warned about you, but raising the cemetery wasn’t part of my plan.”

He dropped to the ground, walking closer to me, the air crackling around him from his power. And his glowing lightning eyes. So terrifying. “What was your plan?” He snapped his fingers, and the grimoire rushed to his hand, no, not quite to his hand, just floating in front of him, slowly spinning around like it had forgotten gravity was a thing. So disturbing.

I swallowed around the lump of fear. “I thought maybe I could animate a squirrel. But I didn’t find a squirrel, just a fox.”

“And an entire graveyard. You’re the whore heir.”

I know he said hoar, but it sounded like whore, and the way he looked at me, his pale lips curling, made me want to stomp on his foot.

“I’m just renting.”

He took a slow step toward me, but it shook the ground. “Just renting the grimoire? That’s not how it works.” His hand shot out, grabbing my throat. He hauled me close to him, my pointy boots dangling off the ground.

I dropped the branch and grabbed his forearms, trying to shift some of my weight from my neck. “Well, if someone had explained how it works, that would’ve been useful. Are you going to explain or just strangle me?” I gasped.

His lightning eyes narrowed. “You’re covered in mud. The Hoar Heir is supposed to be unreasonably beautiful. Do you think to use your charms to beguile me? It won’t work.”

I kicked him and actually made contact with his knee. It hurt my toe but didn’t seem to make him flinch. “I’m not the Hoar Heir, and stop saying it like whore. It’s rude.”

“Like me interrupting your charming little séance is rude, hm?”

Was he mocking me? “Fine. Kill me. Slaughter me like you slaughter everyone. Just stop talking like a misogynistic alphahole.”

He stared at me for a long moment while I glared back at him, not flinching from the freaky lightning eyes. “Your compulsion magic is strong. Your voice is familiar, but your face will reveal the truth.”

A rush of water ran over my body, face, chest, everything, leaving me soaked and gasping, coughing, in general trying not to drown while I dangled from his hand.

I blinked water droplets out of my eyes and gave him a glower worthy of Ray of Sunshine. “What is your problem? Was that you killing me? Because you sucked!”

He stared at me then, slowly, the light faded from his eyes and he lowered me to the ground. “Explain how you are renting Hoar’s House.”