Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe the Itineris didn’t suck as much as I’d thought. Something had scared this werewolf, and there were only a few things I could think of that could do that. Scary Irish Prodigium hunters? Way up on that list.
“Elodie-“ I started to say, but before I got anything else out, she winked out like a bitchy firefly.
The werewolf and I were plunged into darkness. I cursed, and the werewolf made a growl that sounded like the same word. For a few moments, just long enough to make me think that maybe I’d been wrong, the woods were quiet and still.
And then everything erupted at once.
What I wasn’t expecting was a ghost.
The ghost of Elodie Parris, to be exact, standing at my feet, glaring down at me, arms crossed. She was glowing so brightly that I squinted as I sat up. Elodie had been murdered by my great-grandmother nearly a year ago (long story), and thanks to a little shared magic between us before she died, her ghost was now tied to me.
“Oh, wow,” I croaked. “I was just lying here thinking this night could not get any worse, and then it totally did. Huh.
What are you?”
I opened my eyes gingerly. The flashlight that had blinded me was lying a few feet from my head now, which gave me just enough light to see what appeared to be a twelve-year-old girl sitting on my chest.
I’d gotten my butt handed to me by a sixth grader? That was embarrassing.
They were a large family of women-always women, although I guess guys factored in there somewhere, seeing as how the family had been around for over a thousand years. Descended from a megapowerful white witch named Maeve Brannick, they’d dedicated themselves to ridding the world of evil.
Unfortunately, I fit their definition of evil.
The girl scowled. “You are something,” she hissed, leaning in closer. “I can feel it. Whatever you are, it’s not human. So you can either tell me what kind of freak you are, or I can cut you open and find out myself.”
I stared at her. “You are one hard-core little kid.”
Her scowl deepened.
“I’m looking for the Brannicks,” I said in a rush. “And I’m guessing you are one because…you know, red hair and the violence and everything.”
“What’s your name?” she demanded as the stinging at my neck became actual pain.
“Sophie Mercer,” I said through clenched teeth.
Her eyes widened. “No way,” she said, sounding for the first time like the middle schooler she probably was.
“Way,” I croaked.
In that moment, I let myself entertain the idea of just putting the sword down and lying on the ground. It would feel good, and really, if I’d lost everything, who cared what this tiny homicidal person did to me?
But just as quickly, I shut that thought right the heck down. No way had I survived demon attacks, and ghoul duels, and demonglass explosions to end up murdered by Raggedy Ann. Whether Mom was here or not, I was going to survive this.
My fingers tightened on the sword’s hilt until I felt the metal cut into my skin. It hurt, but that was good. That might actually keep me from passing out, which in turn would keep Izzy from dissecting me, or whatever it was Brannicks did to demons.
Former demons. Whatever.
“So you guys have a compound,” I said, trying to will my brain into working. “That’s…cool. I bet it has bunkers and barbed wire.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
“Right, so this compound. Where exactly…” My words trailed off as the ground started swaying. Or was it me weaving from side to side? And was everything getting dimmer because the flashlight was dying, or was it my eyes that had stopped working?
“No. No, I am not going to faint.”
“Um…okay?”
I shook my head. “Did I say that out loud?”
Izzy rose to her feet slowly. “You don’t look so good.”
I would have glared at her if my eyes hadn’t been involved in more important things like not falling out of my skull. A loud clattering noise filled my head, and I realized it was my teeth.
Great. I was going into shock. That was just…so inconvenient.
I tried to give her my best “I Am A Demon Princess” look, which was quite the challenge, seeing as how my hair was hanging in my face and my nose was running. “What’s your name?” I asked.
The girl kept her eyes on me, but her hands were moving restlessly over the ground around her, no doubt searching for the knife. “Izzy,” she said.
I raised both my eyebrows. Not exactly a name to strike fear into the heart.
Izzy must’ve read that in my expression, because she frowned. “I’m Isolde Brannick, daughter of Aislinn, daughter of Fiona, daughter of-“
“Right, right, daughter of a bunch of fierce ladies, got it.
I was dead. That was really the only explanation I had for the sensation that I was lying in a comfy bed, cool, clean-smelling sheets pulled up to my chin, and a soft hand stroking my hair.
That was nice. Being dead seemed pretty sweet, all things considered. Especially if ti meant I got to nap for all eternity. I snuggled deeper into the covers. The hand on my hair moved to my back, and I realized someone was singing softly. The voice was familiar, and something about it made my chest ache. Well, that was to be expected. Angels’ songs would be awfully poignant.
“’I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar, when I met you…’” the voice crooned.
I frowned. Was that really an appropriate song for the Heavenly Host to be-
Realization crashed into me. “Mom!
Drink this.”
“Um, how ‘bout no,” I replied, staring at the dark green contents. Whatever the liquid was, it smelled like pine trees and dirt, and seeing how this woman was Izzy’s mom, I figured it was poisoned.
But Aislinn just shrugged. “Don’t, then. No skin off my nose if your head hurts.”
“It’s okay,” Mom said, never taking her eyes off Aislinn. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“By making me dead?” I asked. “I mean, I’m sure that would make my headache go away, but that’s a heck of a side effect.”
“Sophie,” Mom murmured, a warning tone in her voice.
But Aislinn just regarded me shrewdly, a tiny smile playing on her lips. “She’s got a mouth on her, that’s for sure,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Mom. “Must’ve gotten that from him. You were always quiet.
Suddenly, I missed Jenna so much that it was almost a physical ache. I wanted to hold her hand, and hear her say something that would make this whole situation funny instead of incredibly screwed up.
Archer would’ve been nice, too. He probably would’ve raised an eyebrow in that annoying/hot way he had, and made a dirty joke about Elodie possessing me.
Or Cal. He wouldn’t say anything, but just his presence would make me feel better. And Dad-
“Sophie,” Mom said, shaking me out of my reverie. “I don’t…I don’t even know how to start explaining all of this to you.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “I meant to, so many times, but everything was always so…complicated. Do you hate me?”
I took a deep breath. “Of course not. I mean, I’m not thrilled. And I totally reserve the right to angst over all this later. But honestly, Mom? Right now, I’m so happy to see you that I wouldn’t care if you’re secretly a ninja sent from the future to destroy kittens and rainbows.”
She chuckled, a choked and watery sound. “I missed you so much, Soph.”
We hugged, my face against her collarbone. “I want the whole story, though,” I said, my words muffled. “All of it on the table.”
She nodded. “Absolutely. After we talk to Aislinn.”
Pulling back, I grimaced. “So how exactly are you related to her? Are you guys like, cousins?”
“We’re sisters.”
I stared at her. “Wait. So you’re like, a Brannick Brannick? But you don’t even have red hair.”
Mom got off the bed, twisting her ponytail into a bun. “It’s called dye, Soph. Now, come on. Aislinn is already in a mood.”
“Yeah, picked up on that,” I muttered, shoving the covers off and standing up
We headed down a narrow flight of stairs that ended at a low arch. Beyond the arch was yet another murky room. Did these people have something against overhead lighting?
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