Blood Sacrifice (The Blood Sisters Book 3) by Jill Cooper Page B

scooped her up in his arms. His heart would never mend itself.
It was fractured, like a smashed window, broken beyond repair. There was no
room in his heart for anything but pain. He buried his face into Meg’s hair and
cried. All he could do was cry.
    But
it hadn’t been like this had it? Memories flashed in his mind of Meg’s dead
body. Then, it had been cold and abandoned in an old warehouse. Now he lost her
again in this dark, scary place?
    Why
did he have to keep losing her? Why?
    Duncan
sobbed, holding Meg’s body close to his. He didn’t know what was real and what
was false, but his grief was real enough. . His despair would carry him home.
    He
glanced up at Jessica Blood’s smiling face. “Hate me yet?” Jessica blew him a
kiss. Nothing about any of it made sense and Duncan fought against the darkness
and the magic that swirled in the room. When he looked up at Jessica again for
a split second her face changed.
    Duncan
saw Vain where Jessica was before, and those moments on the bed came charging
toward him. This wasn’t Jessica’s handy work, but Vain’s. “Damn you, Vain!” He
placed his sister’s tender body on the ground and charged toward the evil
temptress.
    She
grabbed him by the throat and something pierced his side. Groaning, with wide
eyes, Duncan touched his skin where he had been stabbed. “Evil bitch,” he
muttered and fell to the ground as Vain released him.
    “This
is going to be harder than I thought,” Vain stepped over him and snarled with
her arms crossed. “If the ointment doesn’t work and this wig isn’t enough…we’re
going to have to get more creative.”
    Vain
huffed and a haze of yellow mist came down from the lights, as if they too were
tainted by magic. One of Vain’s girls, Michelle stepped up and handed Vain her
crystal ball. “Mistress, you asked for this? For phase two?”
    “Yes,”
Vain crouched low and Duncan tried to slither his head away, but he was so
weak. So tired… “Gaze into the crystal ball, Jasper. Gaze into it and see
exactly what I tell you to…”
     

Chapter Eight: Gwen
     
    They
drove for hours and stopped only briefly for snacks and bathroom breaks. Too
many of them, thanks to Archie’s weak constitution. Knowledgeable as he was,
Archibald wasn’t the best road trip buddy Gwen had ever had. Years with two
teenage gingers , Gwen was used to
ignoring backseat squabbles, but it rubbed Mike the wrong way.
     “Archie,”
Mike said with a rapid blink of his eyes, “you stop complaining that you’re
hungry or help me God…”
    “But
you’re a priest.” Archie laughed from the back of Gwen’s Jeep. “What will you
do to me? You can’t kill me.”
    Mike’s
eyebrows came down sharp and scornfully. “I don’t have to kill you. I just have
to hurt you.”
    Gwen
suppressed a chuckle, the heel of her gloved hand resting on the steering
wheel. They were close to the next small watering hole in Nevada. It was near
quitting time, which meant rush hour traffic was upon them. If they were going
to stop and recharge, now might be the time to do it. “Okay, guys—.”
    But
it was as if they hadn’t heard her.
    “I
also have to use the facilities,” Archie mumbled. “That canned soda stuff
always makes it worse.”
    “Archie!”
Mike reached back into the backseat as if to throttle their old friend, but
Gwen intervened and grabbed his wrist. For a brief moment their eyes met and
Gwen gave a gentle shake of her head.
    He
was better than this. So what was really going on? Something he couldn’t put
into words, but his eyes gave her a thousand pardons. Mike sighed and sat
straight. “Sorry, Archie. I guess every man has his limits. Mine is apparently
riding eight hours with you. Coupled with Gwen’s driving and the way you are
littering the back with wrappers…”
    Gwen
let her chuckle be heard this time, and it cut through the tension like a knife
through warm butter. “We’ll stop at the next town as soon as we get through
this