Page 11 of Lunar Desires (Celestial Magic #2)

I went to him, falling to my knees. His eyes were closed, the wound on his forehead open. A shade’s teeth had torn open his jacket, along with his right side. Too much blood oozed from the horrible wound.

Fear returned, squirming like a mouse in a trap.

“Drake?”

I checked his pulse. There, but super faint.

“Drake?”

Fear shifted to wicked terror, my throat closing.

Don’t die…

Don’t die…

But he would die. He’d die right here because I couldn’t heal him, couldn’t move fast enough to get him the help he desperately needed.

“Drake…” I managed to say, the words like acid on my tongue.

Tears brimmed in my eyes, breaking free as hot trickles down my cheeks.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Drake…please…” I brought his hand to my lips, planting a kiss on his cold skin, praying for a miracle, that my kisses possessed a special magic to bring back the guy who made my heart skip a beat.

Nothing happened.

What could I do? Make a run for it anyway? Try getting him help? How many miles left? How many minutes left until he slipped away from me?

“Drake…” Every time I spoke, the words came out wrapped in thorns. Because I knew this was the end of him. The damage was too vicious to his beautiful body, the situation too dire for any hope to creep in.

Such hopelessness didn’t only go against my nature, but drove a rusty spike into its heart.

“You’re always too perky,” I heard Mum’s voice chide me. “One day, it’ll trip you up.”

I kissed his hand again, clinging to hope. I had to. No matter what, my sparkle must always shine. Even in the darkest moments, even when hope stepped out of the room. To give in was to give up, and I wouldn’t be giving up on Drake.

Never. Never. Never.

“Please wake up,” I whispered, checking his pulse again.

Still there. His heart still fighting.

“I’ll get help,” I said. “I’ll make this right.”

As I got to my feet, I heard footsteps in the direction from Molly’s shop. Heavy, along with elevated voices. They stomped, moving in quickly. In no time, witchcops flooded the tunnel with flashlights and weapons, the jig definitely up.

“Hands up!” a woman barked, pointing a rifle at my head.

Behind her, two men waited to unleash the blue magic swirling in their hands.

I did as I was told, coupled with a, “Please help him.”

They didn’t listen, the woman cuffing me, the tunnel filling with High Coven agents, not one of them doing anything about Drake. Some of them went ahead. I glanced over my shoulder to see them disappear around the bend.

“Eyes forward!” the witchcop ordered.

I did as I was told.

“He’s in bad shape,” a man crouched beside Drake said.

Finally! One of you gives a crap!

“Please help him,” I implored. “He’s dying.”

The woman grunted at me, tightening my cuffs. “Shut your mouth.”

“I—”

“Call it in,” she ordered the man, shoving me forward. “Start walking. Now.”

I obeyed, eyes on Drake. The guy made a call on his walkie-talkie while another injected him with stuff.

“What is it?”

“Stabilizer,” the woman answered. “Buys your friend some time.” She shoved me again. “Pick up the pace.”

Drake fell from my field of vision. “Where are you taking me?”

“Just keep moving.”

Probably the London High Coven HQ.

Damn.

She marched me up the stairs back into Molly’s secret room, then up into the main shop, where I could see the whole place had been ransacked. I trampled the merchandise as the witchcop shoved me out the front door.

God, she really didn’t stand on ceremony.

There wasn’t any sign of Molly amongst the gathering of agents and vehicles, but I saw a familiar pale-skinned man standing directly before us, his left blue eye hidden beneath an eyepatch. One of Erin Lovell’s contacts at the High Coven, based in Coldharbour, not London.

What was Agent Jake Winter doing here?

He scratched his chin, giving me a sympathetic look.

Was he here to help? If so, yay.

Before I could speak, I got bundled into the back of a blue car, the door slammed shut. A thick partition cut me off from the male driver, every window tinted. Something like the slime of a slug shimmered on the seat.

A cold, slimy sensation slithered in my veins. It sucked the energy from my body, making me slump.

The woman got into the passenger seat, pushing a button on the dashboard.

A speaker crackled above me. “You’re feeling the effects of Suppressant Ooze Variant 843. No magic for you, and you’ll probably puke in a bit.”

I’d heard of this stuff—a substance used to suppress energy and temporarily switch off magic while someone was under its effects.

The light of my witch bangle turned amber, flashing in warning of the ooze.

My head became fuzzy, stuffed with cotton wool.

It leeched my strength, suppressing my energy.

Tidal Pull still bubbled on the surface, but it would have to stay bubbling.

For now.

As the car pulled away, I retched, the cotton wool in my head shifting to a sickly dizziness. “Oh…god…” After three more dry retches, I vomited the contents of my stomach into my lap.

Oh, how marvelous.

“Told you,” the witchcop said in a disinterested drawl.

How I would’ve loved for her to go through the windscreen by my hand, the indifference scraping off her face as she slid across the asphalt.

Skin peel, anyone?

I puked again in response to my dark thoughts.

Ugh.

London’s main High Coven HQ building loomed over Mayfair as a frosted-blue glass tower, the top of its cylindrical shape a spear-like point, an orb of blue fire constantly burning.

High blue walls surrounded it, witchcops on patrol, the security top notch like every other High Coven building.

But only the London one looked like this and stood so tall and courted so much controversy from local conservation campaigners.

So many old buildings had been torn down to make way for this monolith. Kind of like back in Coldharbour with all the new glass structures springing up across the city.

My eyes alternated from the spectacle of the tower to watching the woman in the front seat. She jabbered into her phone while I sat completely slumped in my seat, ready for a nap.

Under different circumstances, I would’ve been chewing on my bottom lip, a total wreck over what awaited me inside the tower.

But Drake sat at the forefront of my mind, even putting the Dad stuff in a box for now, my heart aching knowing he might die.

Those shots they’d given him wouldn’t be enough.

He needed Isaac’s healing power. Right now.

Oh, God. I was so powerless, so helpless in this back seat.

The vehicle stopped at the main gates of the building. I waited for them to open, but they didn’t.

Huh?

The woman glanced at me, her brow deeply furrowed, her phone still pressed to her ear.

What the hell?

The driver reversed.

“We’re taking you back to Coldharbour,” the woman said, looking deeply unhappy about it.

“Why?” I asked with a raspy voice.

She didn’t answer.

“What about Drake?”

Still no answer.

Turning the car around, the driver took off.

“What about Drake?” I repeated.

The speaker crackled. “Why don’t you sit back and?—”

Pop!