Read Online Witch Hunt, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series) by Rachel Rawlings - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Rawlings
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eternity. I needed to check on him before I ran after the Inquisitors.
I took a step, stumbling as the Butcher grabbed my ankle. I looked down at him, meeting his eyes. As long as there was breath in his body, he wasn’t going to stop. I saw it in his cold expression. If by some miracle he survived being gutted, he would still come looking for me. Not to serve The Inquisitors, but to satisfy his own sadistic hunger. The knife was still in my hand. Switching my grip on the handle, I drove it deep into his chest, aiming for his heart. His hand fell away from my ankle. I pulled the knife out, wiping the blade on my jeans, and watched as the life finally slipped out of his body.
Matthison was a crumpled, beaten mess when I got to him. His pulse was weak and he was bleeding pretty badly from a gash on his head. I found the coat I was wearing before the van ride on the floor and cut it into strips with the knife. I folded a couple of strips into a makeshift compress, and then used the rest to make a tie to hold it in place. I tried to assess the rest of his injuries, but I was far from qualified to do so. Broken bones, internal bleeding? I was guessing both. I needed to figure out a way to get him out of here. He needed real medical attention as soon as possible.
I never should have let him come to Toil and Trouble in the first place! I shouldn’t have let him get out of the car, and I definitely should have stopped him when the Inquisitors gave him a chance to walk away. No matter how smart or tough he is, or what kind of badge or weapons he carried, he’d always be a Norm. He wasn’t an Other and he had no business in all this. How the hell was I going to tell his wife if he didn’t make it?
I tried to remember the spell that I had used to transport myself back to Baylen Knightley’s house when Morrigan had left me to die in an old burial mound, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t think that I had the strength or the magical know-how right now to move both of us anyway. I wasn’t feeling so supernatural at the moment.
After coming to the conclusion that I’d have to get us out of here the old-fashioned way; I went outside to see where we were and what resources, if any, were available to me. The Ringleader had taken off in the van, so that was not an option. If they were using this place as their torture chamber, then there had to be supplies stored somewhere. I looked around, shocked when I realized where I was.
Winter Island. I guess it made sense. It was close to Salem, but far enough away to mutilate and murder innocent people undisturbed. Especially this time of year when the camping season was over and the maritime park was closed. The island was basically deserted until the spring.
They were keeping us in the old Coast Guard hangar, leftover from when the island had served as an air and sea rescue st ation. There had to be something here that I could use to get Matthison back to town. If I could make a sled, then I might be able to drag him out. My fear was that by the time I reached town I’d be dragging a corpse behind me. No, I had to come up with a faster way if I wanted my friend to live.
I scoured around the immediate area and came up with nothing. Moving a little closer to the shore, I caught sight of a small boat anchored in the shallows. The lighthouse flashed bright white again, giving me a better look at the distance between the boat and me. I’d have to swim out to it, but if I could get it started Matthison could be back in Salem and checked into a hospital within the hour.
I went back inside to check on Matthison one more time. I also wanted to see if there was anything that I could put my clothes in to keep them dry. If I was going swimming in the Atlantic in the winter, then I wanted my clothes to be dry when I got out. Well, what was left of them anyway. My hoodie and T-shirt were trashed, but at least my jeans had survived intact. I was going to have to ask the Council for a
I took a step, stumbling as the Butcher grabbed my ankle. I looked down at him, meeting his eyes. As long as there was breath in his body, he wasn’t going to stop. I saw it in his cold expression. If by some miracle he survived being gutted, he would still come looking for me. Not to serve The Inquisitors, but to satisfy his own sadistic hunger. The knife was still in my hand. Switching my grip on the handle, I drove it deep into his chest, aiming for his heart. His hand fell away from my ankle. I pulled the knife out, wiping the blade on my jeans, and watched as the life finally slipped out of his body.
Matthison was a crumpled, beaten mess when I got to him. His pulse was weak and he was bleeding pretty badly from a gash on his head. I found the coat I was wearing before the van ride on the floor and cut it into strips with the knife. I folded a couple of strips into a makeshift compress, and then used the rest to make a tie to hold it in place. I tried to assess the rest of his injuries, but I was far from qualified to do so. Broken bones, internal bleeding? I was guessing both. I needed to figure out a way to get him out of here. He needed real medical attention as soon as possible.
I never should have let him come to Toil and Trouble in the first place! I shouldn’t have let him get out of the car, and I definitely should have stopped him when the Inquisitors gave him a chance to walk away. No matter how smart or tough he is, or what kind of badge or weapons he carried, he’d always be a Norm. He wasn’t an Other and he had no business in all this. How the hell was I going to tell his wife if he didn’t make it?
I tried to remember the spell that I had used to transport myself back to Baylen Knightley’s house when Morrigan had left me to die in an old burial mound, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t think that I had the strength or the magical know-how right now to move both of us anyway. I wasn’t feeling so supernatural at the moment.
After coming to the conclusion that I’d have to get us out of here the old-fashioned way; I went outside to see where we were and what resources, if any, were available to me. The Ringleader had taken off in the van, so that was not an option. If they were using this place as their torture chamber, then there had to be supplies stored somewhere. I looked around, shocked when I realized where I was.
Winter Island. I guess it made sense. It was close to Salem, but far enough away to mutilate and murder innocent people undisturbed. Especially this time of year when the camping season was over and the maritime park was closed. The island was basically deserted until the spring.
They were keeping us in the old Coast Guard hangar, leftover from when the island had served as an air and sea rescue st ation. There had to be something here that I could use to get Matthison back to town. If I could make a sled, then I might be able to drag him out. My fear was that by the time I reached town I’d be dragging a corpse behind me. No, I had to come up with a faster way if I wanted my friend to live.
I scoured around the immediate area and came up with nothing. Moving a little closer to the shore, I caught sight of a small boat anchored in the shallows. The lighthouse flashed bright white again, giving me a better look at the distance between the boat and me. I’d have to swim out to it, but if I could get it started Matthison could be back in Salem and checked into a hospital within the hour.
I went back inside to check on Matthison one more time. I also wanted to see if there was anything that I could put my clothes in to keep them dry. If I was going swimming in the Atlantic in the winter, then I wanted my clothes to be dry when I got out. Well, what was left of them anyway. My hoodie and T-shirt were trashed, but at least my jeans had survived intact. I was going to have to ask the Council for a
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