Page 8 of The Witch's Pet

Usque ad finem huius ritus.”

Her life force begins to flow into me, thick, warm, and sweet.

She lets out a soft, “Oh,” and shivers, the fight leaving her.

I can taste her energy, feel it flowing into my core. It fills my senses, my soul, every hollow space that a century of dormancy has carved out.

A moan tears from my throat.God, she tastes good. Has feeding always been this good, or is my hunger making her extra sweet?

I keep murmuring the incantation, drinking in her essence, intent on consuming everything she has until my power is full and satisfied.

And then…

Something shifts.

Before I can drain her, a resistance hits me, like pulling against a tether. A sharp pain shoots through my chest, and I gasp, clutching my ribs.

I stand frozen, hands pressed to my sides. Feeding is supposed to strengthen me. It always has. But pain throbs with each heartbeat, foreign and impossible, and for the first time in my life, my body—mymagic—betrays me.

Hannah coughs and sinks to her knees on the grass. “What’s…happening…”

I turn my hands over. My fingers have blackened from the feeding, which is normal… So what was that about?

Perhaps my body is ill adjusted after a century of sleep.

I shake out my arms and place a hand on either side of her head to keep draining her.

“Get—off—” she says between gasps, trying to push me away.

The pain surges back harder, making me gasp and stumble back.

The connection between us dies, leaving me gulping down air. The interruption leaves me aching and unsatisfied. The deep well inside me is still dry, holding barely enough magic for a couple of spells.

I turn my back to her and ball my hands into fists, leaving her on her knees.

This isn’t right. Feeding has never hurt me. I have drained people to fill my power every lunar cycle since I was thirteen. What differs this time?

A chill ripples through me. Is this Rebecca’s doing? Either I can’t drink my fill of magic anymore, or I can’t drink my fill from this girl who broke the spell.

Which is it? Andwhy?

The idea of being doomed to live the rest of my life hungry, never being able to feed to satisfaction, sends an icy feeling through me. I’ve never been so vulnerable.

I square my shoulders. I have to find my coven. I need answers—and I need to make Rebecca pay.

I stride away from Hannah and the firepit, looking for this supposed gate that will let me out of here.HowI will find my coven in this unfamiliar world is a mystery, but maybe with luck, Fort Langley will still exist. I can start there.

As my numb feet squelch over the grass, I wrinkle my nose. Maybe I can also find shoes along the way.

But as I push through the gate and leave Hannah behind, a strange sensation washes over me, like a tightening in my chest and an unbearable weight crushing me. My thighs quake as I fight to stay standing.

I force one foot in front of the other, my cloak catching the wind as I fight this invisible barrier. Each step feels like walking through thick mud, my muscles screaming in protest.

I reach the front of the house and march down the road, pain stabbing my chest more insistently. I clutch it, gasping for breath.

My knees buckle. I cry out as I hit the ground, my kneecaps cracking against the road that’s as hard as stone.

Something must be holding me here, tethering me to the yard, or the book, or…