Page 31 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)
Sasquatch roars something in what sounds like an ancient, long-forgotten language, spinning his ax in a graceful, savage sweep that takes the head off one vampire before burying it in the chest of another.
He dislodges it with ease and continues cutting down vampires in a grisly line.
All around, the battle rages, a blood-drenched fever dream.
Diego wrestles a vampire the size of a boulder to the dirt, snapping its spine with a sickening crack. Conall and Sasquatch fight back-to-back, one all claws and teeth, the other a vicious ax and curses.
Power surges through the cluster of witches as they work in tandem, lighting up the sky with a spell that freezes the werewolves closest to them in their tracks—literally.
They drop to the ground stiff as boards, completely frozen and under a hex so concentrated, I’m afraid whether or not they’ll survive it.
High Priestess Beatrix flicks her wrist at Diego as he charges the two covens, and I go icy cold, my gut twisting with dread.
His massive frame goes rigid, tendons straining against invisible shackles as he’s rendered completely immobilized.
No, you can’t have him! I won’t lose the only person who’s ever given a damn!
I gather every bit of lifeforce I can in a mad panic and slam my will outward with a scream.
The witches rock on their heels, glancing around and searching for the source of the disturbance.
As disappointed as I am that they didn’t fall on their asses, I use the distraction to wrap a gossamer cord around Diego’s waist and tug.
Sweat beads my brow, but I manage to yank him back in my direction as I feed him a burst of raw magic—breaking the witches’ spell and setting him free.
It’s as if every werewolf head pivots to me at once, their respect invigorating me right when my knees threaten to buckle.
They might’ve hoped I was fighting by their side, but now they know it, and they renew their strikes with a whole new level of fury, cutting through the enemy faster than ever before.
Newly freed from his immobilized state, Diego lunges forward, slamming into the next wave of attackers.
Holy shit, we’re actually going to win this!
But then I catch movement coming from the ravine to our right…
The world lurches sideways when I see they’ve hidden at least another fifty undead soldiers there, and all I can do is lock my knees and try not to fall with it. Massive and well-rested, they flow into the valley like an angry river.
Suddenly, what looked like a battlefield we were clearing and winning is filled with fresh vampire warriors, the odds not even close to our favor, and I thought we were screwed before.
Andromeda cackles like the hateful bitch she is, her gaze finding mine through the melee. Her smug expression tells me she thinks she’s won, and I’m spinning over how we didn’t know those vampires were hidden there, even with my senses and those of the werewolves.
There’s no time for that, though—not when what I need to be doing is changing up my entire strategy instead.
Our people start going down right and left, and I feel desperate to stop every injury and howl of pain.
I can’t even think about death right now, and perhaps that’s why I never made a good little soldier for my mother in the first place.
A cluster of vampires crashes through the front lines of the Bridgewater troops, tearing through fur and flesh in a bluster of fangs and honed steel.
The smell of coppery blood stings the air as crimson pools spread and stain the ground beneath the fallen.
I watch a werewolf go down, an arc of red arterial blood spraying through the air, and my stomach drops to my feet along with my waning hope.
I need the Loom, ?a desperate voice whispers inside me.? If I had it, I could borrow enough lifeforce from the living things in this valley and use it to crush them.
Riven twirls a silver dagger between their fingers, the blade gleaming orange in the glow of the torches. Emphatically bored, as usual, and obviously eager to sink their blade into flesh.
Until the traitor catches me starting.
They give me a slow, smug smile I’d like to punch right off their face. “I hate battles, don’t you? So undignified,” they say as though discussing the weather. “Though I do love a well-timed death.”
“Is that a threat, or just a heads up about your next betrayal?” I narrow my eyes and march a steady trail in their direction, two mighty wolves growling at my side. “Or are you trying to flirt with me again? Because now’s not really a good time, and I’m already happily taken.”
A tumbling pair of fighters rolls through my path, nearly knocking me off it entirely, as the wolf and the vampire continue wrestling for control.
Another idea hits me, so delicious I’m almost afraid to toy with the idea—if I had the Blood Loom, I might be able to use the vampires’ own lifeforce to crush them.
Squinting my eyes, I study the gossamer cobwebs that connect all the undead soldiers. While the wispy strings are weaker and not nearly as glowy, if I can just amplify my powers, I can tug on every single thread I can get my fingers on and do some serious damage.
My hands tremble as I hover them out in front of me, flattened palms facing the ground. As I concentrate on pulling, the golden threads from the plants beneath my feet begin whipping around me like angry serpents.
They grow bigger and dance wilder with my hatred, until they’re more like jungle vines I could wrap around throats and squeeze until my enemies’ oxygen runs out and their eyeballs go pop.
I panic at the amount of hatred I feel, afraid my spike in savagery means I’m turning into someone I don’t want to be—afraid I’m turning into my ruthless, murderous mother.
The shimmering vines around me shrivel and die along with every spark of magic I felt, leaving me feeling too weak and useless once again.
That’s it. All this time I’ve been holding back so I don’t become my mother, but it’s what’s going to lose us this fight.
“I have to accept who I am and step into my power,” I mutter under my breath, and Elias and Gideon turn to me with curious expressions before they’re distracted by keeping up my bubble of safety.
But survival has always required acts of defiance.
And as much as society pretends otherwise, sometimes the only thing that defeats a bully is hitting back so hard they can’t get up and hurt anyone else.
If I don’t accept that I’m a witch who can take something as beautiful as lifeforce and turn it into a weapon to keep the innocent safe, I’m putting them at risk.
If I don’t use it, my mother and the vampires win, and I lose everyone I care about.
And I care about all the werewolves, even the ones who glared and questioned me, because sometimes I’ve questioned myself too.
It’s time to stand up and say enough already.
Strands of ethereal light wrap around me, reinforcing my limbs and my determination to not just fight, but win. I lift my hand, watching in awe as they curl softly around my wrist like a supportive brace, charging me up with electricity like I’ve been plugged in.
And I suppose I have—I’m plugged into the Green Goddess and ultimate lifeforce herself, Mother Earth.
There’s just one more thing I have to do, something I’ve fantasized about a ridiculous amount through the most oppressive of years with her…
I’m going to have to fight my mother.