Eighteen-year-old witch, Vera Tate, attends a magic university where she meets vampire prince Lucien Lacroix. After being the target of an attack, Vera finds herself in the middle of a century-long feud that results in murder. Now she has no choice...
The mannequins vibrated with what I reckoned was a nervous energy. I wasn't certain, but I thought they might be scared of the warden. I certainly was.
When the creature passed us completely, the mannequins were on the move. They surrounded the counter, plastic hands flailing wildly. One of them joined us behind it. She held a finger to her smiling mouth and started walking disjointedly out from the stall and down the path.
I looked at Naomi. Follow?
She nodded.
We scurried after the mannequin, never standing fully upright, to the place where we began. The mannequin faced us, her head cocked to the side, and thumped her arm against the mirror's wooden back. She wanted us to get out?
"There's no mirror," I whispered, frustrated. I pressed my hand against the wood wishing I could sink through it, and shook my head. It was pointless.
The mannequin shuffled away, her hands at the sides of her face, as two lofty steps slammed behind us. The Warden stood there, beady eyes blinking as the sickle rose. Then it lumbered forward.
Naomi pulled us into a run with a scream.
It was official: we were going to die. I wanted to cry but it was hard to run and cry at the same time. I glanced back. The creature was almost directly behind us. "Move!" I tugged Naomi to the left of its downward swing, nearly throwing us to the ground in the process.
"I think this qualifies as worst-case scenario!" Naomi yelled.
Whether or not it did, there wasn't any way we'd be able to outrun the thing. I released Naomi's hand and faced the creature, intending to cast, but it was so close. Too close. I didn't have the time. I froze. The sickle came down.
"Vee!" Naomi pushed me out of the way and I hit the ground hard enough that my forearms ached, but in my state of panic I was only faintly aware of the pain. Red painted the ground. It took a moment for it to register. It was blood. Naomi's blood.
Screaming, I raised both hands to cast Push, sending the creature into one of the tents. I crawled to Naomi's side, chanting no, and pulled her into my lap. There was so much blood. Too much. It dripped from her front and onto my legs.
"Naomi, heal yourself," I cried, squeezing her. "Please!"
Her hands shook as she raised them to her torso and a green glow flickered to life.
The creature crawled from the tent, attempting to stand on its hooves.
There was only one option, and one chance to try it. I rubbed my hands in her blood, muttered an apology, and wiped a circle in the dirt around us. To be safe, I pulled her legs in, made a hand-sign, and charged the magic into it.
The creature stumbled forward but the mannequins swarmed in front of us, blocking its path. I ignored the plastic limbs flying about. I had to get back to the porch of the haunted house. Right at the entrance. All the professors would be there, surely, and Naomi needed them.
It was ready. I took a deep breath and unleashed the magic, weaving it through the blood and around us. Now or never. I spent the charge. We were moving. I closed my eyes, maintaining the image of the rickety porch, and we were gone.
My eyes snapped open as noises rushed to my ears, loud voices I could barely make out. A crowd stood around me, and in it I met a pair of crimson eyes. Killian Rhodes. My mind ached something terrible as I glanced down. Naomi was with me, pale and blood-covered.
"Heal her," I begged, my voice echoing in my ears.
Killian's gaze shifted to Naomi as he rushed forward.
I fell onto my back and searched dazedly as the world spun. Faces circled us, growing darker with each turn. Noises blared in my ears but were too loud for me to hear anything at all. A figure emerged from the crowd with a loathsome stare I couldn't place. Who are you? My vision blurred. I couldn't hold on. Shadows clawed at the corners of my sight, growing until I slipped away.
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