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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I stared across the stream at the body of my Heartmate. Rath was limp and lying on his back. His jaw was slightly open which was perfect for my purposes because now I knew exactly what to do.

Rath had said that Milas James was a weed and what do you do to weeds to get rid of them?

“You pull them out!” I muttered to myself. I was already twisting another piece of magic thread between my fingers. This was going to be the most complicated piece of magic I had done yet, but I had faith I could pull it off…mostly.

“Turn into a hand,” I told it.

The magic wire became a hand about a fifth the size of my own. It hovered in the air before me, waiting for directions.

“Do what I do, and let me feel what you feel,” I ordered it.

I flexed my fingers and the tiny, glowing hand flexed its fingers too, at the same time. I snapped my fingers and so did it, again at the exact same time as me.

“Touch the water,” I told the hand, miming a scooping motion with my own hand.

It dived down and scooped up a handful of icy water—I was glad to see that I could feel exactly how cold and wet it was.

We were definitely connected, which was what I wanted.

It wouldn’t do me any good to go shoving the magic hand down Rath’s throat if I couldn’t feel the foreign invader inside him.

The little hand hovered in the air in front of me, waiting for more orders. It looked like we were ready to go.

“All right, good,” I told the hand. “Now fly across the stream and slide into his mouth.”

The tiny, magic hand did as I told it to—it flew across the rushing waters of the stream and slid between the big Orc’s slack jaws. I flexed my fingers but found I couldn’t feel what the little hand felt nearly as well. There was a vague warmth—nothing more.

I was going to have to get closer if I wanted to do this.

There was no time to hesitate—Rath’s body might wake at any minute.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged into the stream again.

Doing so much magic had warmed me up and nearly dried me out too.

Now I was wet and shivering all over again as I pulled myself out onto the bank beside the willow tree and Rath’s limp body.

But at least now I could feel what the hand felt again. I made it stroke Rath’s tongue and I felt the rough texture of it. Good—we were back in contact.

“Slide down lower,” I told the hand. “Down his throat though— don’t go into his lungs.”

I felt it going, sliding down the slick walls of the big Orc’s throat and into the wet warmth of his big body as I mimed the actions. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I was positive I would know it when I felt it.

Sure enough, about halfway down the seeking magic fingers felt something that didn’t belong.

Instead of being smooth and warm and wet, it was hard and cold—like a jagged lump of ice, I thought.

I was going to have to be careful pulling this thing out—it felt like it had sharp edges that might cut Rath up inside.

“Grow—surround it,” I ordered the magic hand as I mimed wrapping my fingers all around the jagged lump. “Then pull—we have to bring it out.”

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until I started to pull. As the hand slid upwards, holding the sharp, cold lump, I felt it come to a sudden stop.

“Pull!” I ordered the hand. “Harder!” As I spoke, I mimed pulling myself, making my hand into a fist and yanking upwards.

It really was like tugging on a plant with stubborn roots. I could feel them giving but it was a slow process and I didn’t want to yank too hard for fear of injuring Rath internally.

But just as the roots started to lose their hold, I saw his eyelids flutter and he began to cough and choke.

“Harder! Faster!” I told the hand, pulling upwards. I could feel that the roots were still hanging on to part of Rath—I had to get them loose and get Milas James out of him before he woke all the way up!

“You…you little witch!” a weak voice scolded me. Rath’s eyes were open again and they were blazing red. “How dare you try to remove me?”

I gave up on the idea of bringing the jagged lump out smoothly. With all my might, I yanked upwards on my magic.

“Now!” I shouted at the hand. “Fucking now— get it out of him!”

There was a choking roar from Rath’s throat and then I felt the roots give at last as I tore them out of him. As I yanked my arm upwards, the magic hand came out of his mouth at last.

It was as big as my own hand now and it was holding a disgusting writhing slug-like creature. It had shiny, slimy black skin and it squirmed in the hand’s grasp, trying to get free. Long roots like black arteries dangled from its underside, writhing helplessly in the air.

“Take it to the stream!” I shouted at the hand. “Go over the stream and hold it there!”

As I spoke I made a casting motion with my own arm.

The glowing magic hand shot out over the water and hovered just above the middle of the stream.

The black pulsing artery roots dangled in the rushing water.

It seemed to hurt them because they writhed and shrank away, trying to keep from getting wet.

“No! No, you bitch!” I heard a tiny voice screaming. “No, don’t you dare! You spawn of Satan! You witch! You?—”

“That’s about enough of that,” I said and squeezed my fingers into a fist.

The magic hand did the same, squeezing the life out of the black slug-like creature which was all that was left of Milas James’ corrupted soul. I could feel it—slimy and dank and evil. It needed to die once and for all and I was the only one who could kill it.

“ That’s right, Sarah—you’re the one! The only one!”

“The Natural Witch!”

“I knew she would come!”

“I knew she could do it!”

Suddenly the air around me was full of voices—the voices of all the Pruitt women—all the witches who had come before me. I heard them and I felt them. They were here to witness this event—it was something they had waited for, in some cases for centuries.

I squeezed even harder, feeling all the pain and fear and heartache of every one of my ancestors, going back eleven generations. This was for them as much as it was for me. For hundreds of years Milas James had tormented my family but no more—never again!

“Never again!” I said aloud and squeezed so hard the tendons stood out on the underside of my wrist and my fist ached.

There was a sudden high-pitched shrieking that drilled through my head like a siren and then I felt a wet pop— the same thing you feel when you squeeze a water balloon too tightly and it bursts.

The black writhing slug thing being held by the magic hand suddenly exploded, bursting into chunks and writhing tentacles the consistency of JELL-O.

They slid from the glowing hand’s grasp and landed in the water with wet plops.

As I watched, they were carried away by the stream, melting and dissolving as they went.

“She did it! I knew she could!” cheered my Grandma’s voice in my ear. And then I heard another familiar voice.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry.” It was my Mom and she sounded terribly sad. “So sorry, sweetheart. I should have believed in you. I shouldn’t have had you bound. I made your life so hard.”

I felt tears stinging my eyes.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I whispered. “I understand why you did it and I don’t blame you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I felt something soft brush my cheek, like a feather-light kiss, and then I didn’t sense her spirit anymore.

“She can finally be at peace now,” whispered my Grandma’s voice. “We all can, thanks to you, my dear.”

“Are you leaving too?” I asked, looking around, though I knew I wouldn’t see her. “I miss you so much! I barely got to know you.”

“I’m planted firmly in the soil by my Heartmate, Morris,” she told me. “You’ll still hear me from time to time. But for now, I must go. You must see to your own Heartmate, my dear.”

And then her presence was gone too and I was alone.