“Save Everly.” She points a claw over her shoulder. “I’ve got this hag.”
“Buffy. Please. You can’t still be mad at me after all this time. It was an accident.” Mrs. Brewster is shaking in my grip, and I have no fucking clue what is happening. All I know is that I need to get to my mate.
“Turning me into a cat a century ago was an accident?” Buffy, the sort-of-cat, hisses between her semi-human teeth. “Go, Vincent.” Buffy jumps and digs her claws into Mrs. Brewster’s throat as a pack of undead dogs runs toward us.
“My darlings!” Mrs. Brewster howls as they jump on Buffy.
“Go!” Buffy yells and starts fighting in a whirl of fangs and claws.
The pull to Everly overcomes me, and I take off toward the flames. The room is almost wall-to-wall smoke and flames.
“Poppet?” I find her slumped by a bookcase, her eyes trying to focus. Worry overwhelms every other emotion, and I know I have to get her out of here. Lifting her, I carry her back into the hall, but the smoke is billowing thickly toward the front door. I can’t even see the witch and Buffy anymore.
“Buffy’s not a cat,” she mumbles.
I dash into the witch’s kitchen, the entire room smelling of sickly sweets mixed with deadly poisons. No wonder Ian got so sick.
With a kick, I bust through the back door and carry her out into the dark garden. Mrs. Brewster had been trying to get me over here for months. I can see why. Fantastical flowers and plants—many of which are deadly with nothing more than a touch—flourish from every corner.
“Buffy.” Everly shakes her head, trying to clear away the witch’s spell. “She’s not really a frickin’ cat!”
I can feel our bond again, the link between us flickering back to life as the witch’s influence fades.
“She wanted our blood. Well, your blood. For her roses. What a psycho! And who has a problem with quartz? It’s beautiful and durable.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, I’m just so fucking glad she’s talking. “Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?” I put her on her feet, then look her over, checking for any injury.
“Just a scratch. Nothing serious.” She coughs a little.
“Smoke inhalation?” I swipe her hair back from her forehead and inspect her face.
“No, just crusty old witch dust. I’d hate to know what she puts into that.” She pulls a disgusted face.
“We have to get out of here. Now.” I pick her up again right as Harry jumps the fence and appears by our side. He has bite marks on his neck.
“You and Ian?” Everly asks.
“All good. He’s recovering. The witch?” He can’t stop smiling. I know the feeling. Finding your true mate is an experience that can’t be outdone.
“Wait. What about Buffy?” Everly tries to look back at the house that’s already shooting flames into the night.
“When you’re safe, I’ll come back and—”
A loud boom sounds behind me, and Mrs. Brewster flies past us, landing into a tree with black leaves and wicked thorns.
“Buffy!” Everly twists in my arms as the half-cat, half-woman stalks from the hole she just made in the side of the house with Mrs. Brewster.
“Buffy?” Harry asks.
“One hundred years!” Buffy cries, her scream like an enraged kitten with a megaphone.
“Accident.” Mrs. Brewster disentangles herself from the tree and floats to the ground on a phantom breeze. She’s bloody, but she doesn’t seem to be particularly winded. “Like I said. Magic can be tricky, you know? How was I supposed to know you’d be a cat forever? We really should let bygones be bygones. Besides, I’m the one who discovered this girl is a hybrid. You should be thanking me. Her blood is the only thing that can—”
“Shut up, you lying windbag!” Buffy screeches again and stalks toward the old witch.
“Get her, Buffy!” Everly yells.
Mrs. Brewster backs up, her eyes widening as Buffy splays her enormous claws.
I don’t like the look in the witch’s eyes. “Stay behind me.” I put Everly down and ready myself.
“You should’ve stayed a cat.” Mrs. Brewster’s tone changes to taunting. “You were prettier.”
“Bitch!” Buffy springs at her right as a vine whips up from the garden and snares Buffy around the waist.
“Goodbye, old friend.” Mrs. Brewster blows Buffy a kiss as the vine flings her into the burning house.
“No!” Everly’s pain is instant and acrid through our bond.
Harry takes off in the direction Buffy went.
I bare my fangs and run at the vicious witch. She disappears in a haze of smoke and reappears deeper in the garden.
“Come closer, vampire. I’ll spill your blood in just the right spot.”
“Don’t!” Everly cries.
I won’t stop until Mrs. Brewster is dead. She dared take my mate. Dared threaten her and spill her blood?
She whips a vine toward me. I dodge it, then hurtle through the poisonous mess of her garden right for her.