Page 25 of Blood Match
The energy hits a nearby vampire, sending him stumbling back a few steps. He shakes his head, more annoyed than hurt, but it’s enough of a distraction for Dad to finish him off with a more powerful spell.
“That’s it, Ro!” Dad calls, a note of pride in his voice. “Keep it up!”
But I can’t. I try again and again, but nothing happens. The tiny surge of power is gone as quickly as it came, leaving me empty and drained.
Just my luck. My magic sucks.
Yet, all the while, my mind keeps drifting back to that bastard vampire. To the sound of his voice. To the intensity of his gaze when he looked at me.
A scream pierces the air, jolting me back to reality. One of the witches from another coven is on the ground, a vampire looming over her. Without thinking, I start to run toward her, but Kara grabs my arm.
“Stay here!” she orders, her grip like iron. “You’ll just get yourself killed!”
She’s right, of course. What could I possibly do to help? I’m not a fighter. I’m not even a proper witch. I’m just…Rowan. Useless, powerless Rowan.
The battle rages on around us, a confusing mess of shouts, spells, and snarls. I do all I can to help my family – just because my magic won’t work consistently doesn’t mean I can’t do something. A vampire shoots past, then stumbles as I hurl a rock at him, catching him square in the head.
Gotcha!
Dad winks at me as he shoots a fireball at the creature, turning him to ash. I grin at him, then spin to where Gran and Mom are facing down half a dozen of the bloodsuckers. The pair are formidable as they dispatch leering vamps, flinging arcs of light, and blazing bolts with alarming accuracy.
It doesn’t take long for the numbers to dwindle. I don’t know what the bastards were planning, but I think they bit off more than they could chew.
The crash of battle slowly fades, replaced by an eerie silence punctuated only by the occasional groan of pain or rustle of movement. I blink, my ears ringing in the sudden quiet. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, to make sense of the carnage around us.
Our sacred grove, once a place of peace and reverence, now looks like a war zone. The grass is scorched and torn, trees splintered and uprooted. The air is thick with the acrid smell of smoke and something else…something metallic and sickly sweet.
Blood. Vampire blood.
I scan the clearing, my heart in my throat. Witches are scattered about, some helping the injured, others slumped against trees, catching their breath. I see faces twisted in pain, hear soft whimpers, and muttered healing spells. But as I take stock, a wave of relief washes over me.
We’re alive. All of us.
“Rowan!” My mother’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s at my side in an instant, her hands fluttering over me, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”
I shake my head, still dazed. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m okay.”
She pulls me into a fierce hug, and I let myself sink into her embrace for a moment. Over her shoulder, I see Dad and Kara moving among the other witches, offering help where they can. Gran stands at the edge of the clearing, her eyes closed in concentration; from the snatches of words that I pick up, she’s weaving protective wards around us.
As Mom releases me, my gaze falls on the bodies littering the ground. Vampires, their pale skin now ashen in death. Some are clearly victims of our magic – their bodies charred or contorted in unnatural ways. Some simply mounds of dust.
But others…
I take a step closer, my curiosity overriding my revulsion. These vampires look different. Their chests are… mangled. Torn open.
“What the hell?” I mutter, crouching down for a closer look.
“Rowan, don’t!” Mom grabs my arm, pulling me back. “Don’t touch them. We don’t know…”
Her voice trails off as she, too, notices the strange wounds. Her brow furrows in confusion.
“Lake,” she calls, her voice tight. “You need to see this.”
Dad jogs over, his face grim. He takes one look at the bodies and swears under his breath.
“What did this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t magic, was it?”
Dad shakes his head slowly. “No. This was… something else.”