Witch's Nocturne, Moonsongs Episode 2

Witch's Nocturne, Moonsongs Episode 2: Pt. 6 - Dark Magic Vs Tomahawk

Was the knife enchanted, causing the silver necklace to react?

“Sarah, don’t do this,” I said, trying to make eye contact with her. “I had nothing to do with what my grandfather did.”

I realized I’d be just as likely to convince a dog not to eat a piece of fallen meat, but she’d seemed so real before. There had to be a scrap of humanity still left in her. I had to be more to her than a pathetic face—an ingredient in a twisted spell.

A leering, blood-craving smile told me I was wrong.

I tried to bite her hand as she brought the knife to my brow. The bitch wasn’t going to kill me and not at least get a tetanus shot out of it.

Sarah yanked her arm back and smiled again.

“Fight. Rage, even. Emotion is good … for the spell.”

She reached out with her non-knife hand and grabbed my hair, pulling me forward.

My eyes blurred as the blade touched my forehead. She made a single, burning slit above my left eye. Hot blood from the cut streamed down the side of my face onto the ground underneath me. The necklace around my neck fluttered.

The witches swayed in unison, the chanting swelled to shouting. Sarah stood over my grandfather’s headstone. She held the knife high above her head, perfectly backlit by the moon. A single drop of my blood slid down the blade and dangled from the tip. A slight twist of her wrist, and the drop came free. The blood connected with stone.

The witches looked at one another with confused glances. Sarah scrutinized the knife. I wasn’t sure what they expected to happen, but the stupefied expressions on their faces was enough to make me laugh.

She glared at me. “What?”

“If you’re going to raise a corpse, you might need an actual body. Gramps isn’t at home.”

I got shoved back to my knees for my pertness, but the stupefied look on Sarah’s face made the bruises worth it.

“You’re bluffing. He’s been dead for years.”

I thought I saw a spark of terror in her eyes.

“Maybe. Feel free to kill the rest of the night finding out.”

Tilting her head to the side, Sarah seemed to be weighing her options. None of them would likely be on my own list, which consisted of getting the hell out of dodge, and kicking her crazy, witchy ass.

“Resume the incantations. I think we just need more blood. And she’s got plenty left in her.”

Sarah raised the knife above her head and moved toward me.

Now or never.

I tried to leap to my feet, but my legs tangled. Before I could stumble into my second face-plant of the evening, the big witch yanked me backward into a crushing bear hug. The necklace strained underneath my clothes, becoming searing hot. I cried out.

Sarah stood in front of me, casting her gaze again to the sky.

“I, the hegemonic ordained, the reader of the ancient texts, speak to you, oh first of the kalkus. Witch of Endor, she who raised Samuel from the dead, we bid thee. The one who lays here has shed the blood of our coven. In recompense, the blood of his heir shall fill your veins. The breath of his heir shall fill your lungs. And you shall rise to help us avenge our oppressors.”

Sarah turned to the chanting coven. “For too long we’ve been persecuted. Murdered—all for practicing what we know to be true. The dark mistress we bring back tonight will bring us justice. Her name conjures fear. We’ll once again be left alone. As foretold in the ancient scrolls, the dead will rule the living. We now give the full sacrifice.”