“Fuck!” the Boogie Man roars, his body lifting off mine.
Streams of magic wrap around his torso like electric cables, binding his arms, legs, and wings.
I’m still shuddering and spasming from two orgasms battling inside me for dominance but a voice in the back of my mind screams, What the bloody hell?
His shadows release my skin, taking away some of the intensity, and I jerk my head to the side to discover the source of all those lights.
Grandma sits side-saddle on her broomstick with her wand pointed into the room. Flying in formation around her is a horde of witches holding aloft their wands.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a gasp.
Grandma’s eyes blaze with a fury that burns hotter than her magic.
“Filthy creature,” she screeches. “You will suffer an eternity of torment for defiling my granddaughter.”
ChapterThirty-Six
HENRY
Ropes of magic wind around my body and lift me off the mattress. Alienor lies beneath me, her face a rictus of horror.
The grandmother and her entourage of witches hover at the broken wall, looking like an army of harpies sent on a mission of vengeance.
Damnation.
If I had remained in the ash tree a few moments longer, I would have gathered enough power to render myself invisible. But then poor Alienor would have died under the machinations of that necromancer.
I flare my wings, but the magic encasing them presses down on the bones. My markings surge from my skin to push against the bindings but it shoves back. This is as futile as a battle against lightning.
“What are you doing?” Alienor pushes off the bed with a sheet wrapped around her body.
“Stand back, dear,” says the grandmother. “We shall heal your wounds after dealing with this monster.”
“But he’s not—”
“Quiet,” the aunt snaps and swings her stream of power to Alienor.
A ball of magic hits Alienor’s midsection, flinging her across the room and attaching her to the nearest wall like a spiderweb.
“You will be the first to die,” I roar.
“Silence.” The aunt slashes her wand through the air and makes a thin cut on the side of my face.
“Aunt Klara?” Alienor’s voice breaks. She glances from me to the small army of witches, her features drawn.
The aunt’s face hardens. “Don’t Aunt Klara me. Is this the creature who nearly killed Agnes?”
Agnes hops off her broomstick and rushes across the room to Alienor’s side. “Let go of her, Mum, she’s the victim.”
“She’s a magnet for dead men,” the aunt says with a sniff. “How can one girl get assaulted by a corpse and then get herself abducted by a centuries-old king?”
“Hush, Klara.” The grandmother raises a hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Despite my impending punishment at the hands of these witches, a lump forms in the back of my throat. If these people truly cared about Alienor, they would never stand by while one of them caused her harm.
I extract my claws and try to slice through the magical bindings, but the effort is futile. This is the same kind of enchantment Alienor and her cousin used to confine me to her cupboard all those days ago. With over a dozen witches imprisoning me with their power, I have no chance of ever escaping.
“Release Alienor,” I snarl.