Godrickle and you’ll understand why you have to help me. Our mission is to stop the person behind the murders of the hatchling gargoyles. There are photos of one of the crime scenes.” Dred tried to sit up. “Where’s the kitchen? I need some ice.”
“I could just—”
He interrupted. “I’ll get it the old-fashioned way, thanks.
And for the love of Merlin, please be dressed when I get back.”
Middy was surprised that he just tossed her his Witchberry. Most magickal folk carried around their whole lives in these things and he’d just tossed it to her like a dirty sock.
It felt kind of naughty to be cruising through his personal files. She had to say that she liked it. She paused on a picture of someone named Karla. A pretty witch, but too skinny for Dred. In Middy’s opinion, anyway. Then she saw the text from Chancellor Godrickle.
Well, rocky road fudge! Dred had been telling the truth.
He was a spy.
That little nugget of clarity caused her to debate opening the attachment. A lead weight dropped from her throat into her gut. It told her, no, it screamed, that if she looked at whatever was in that file, it was going to change everything.
For a moment, she thought maybe that was a little overdra-matic.
Until she opened the file.
Middy dropped the device in horror as image after image of brutality appeared on the screen. Fledgling gargoyles, mutilated and murdered. It wasn’t so much the blood—she’d seen that before. It was look of terror on those little faces, the eyes wide, and the bow mouths open, pleading for their mothers.
It was a wanton destruction of innocence.
She felt completely helpless as the images flashed before her, helpless to get away from them because those scenes had been tattooed into her awareness, and helpless to do anything but sit there and damn a world where something like this could happen.
But no, she wasn’t helpless. Dred was going to find out who’d done this. He was going to stop them from doing it again. She could help him. Little Midnight Cherrywood had a chance to change the world.
Now, she understood. Her bit of inconvenient flesh really didn’t matter in the face of something like this. She felt a warmth spark inside of her and she realized that it was for Dred Shadowins.
It wasn’t the blatant lust that usually colored every single thing that had to do with him, and she still couldn’t say that she liked him. He was still a witchinizing bastard, but there was this tiny flame.
Its name was admiration.
There was something else, too. That warmth, that spark—there was hope there. It sparked her magick, like a waterfall of fireworks as if there was something inside of her that could have changed those broken little bodies, could have mended them.
But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER TEN
The Broom Sleigh
Five days later, Dred Shadowins escorted Middy Cherrywood and her bit of luggage to Snow Manor. He was thrilled that she was such a practical witch and managed to cram all of her necessities into one case and a garment bag.
He’d never known a witch who could do that, but Dred thought that it should be a course offered at the Academy: Magickal Packing for the Smart Witch . Yes, he’d have to see about talking to the council to get that added as an elective.
Middy would be the perfect witch to design the course.
It would also be a way to pay her for her help. He’d already agreed to fund the Gargoyle Masque for the rest of his life, but who knew how long that would be if these bastards had already raised a lamia? A lamia could spell the end of mortal and magickal civilization. Dred knew of only one way to combat something so evil: great sacrifice. And the only thing Dred had that he valued above all else was his life. Still, he’d gladly give it to save his world.
Dred sighed, knowing he had to keep his head in the game. He pushed Spy!Dred down and slipped into his RichPlayboy!Dred persona. He watched as broom after broom arrived,
“I could just—”
He interrupted. “I’ll get it the old-fashioned way, thanks.
And for the love of Merlin, please be dressed when I get back.”
Middy was surprised that he just tossed her his Witchberry. Most magickal folk carried around their whole lives in these things and he’d just tossed it to her like a dirty sock.
It felt kind of naughty to be cruising through his personal files. She had to say that she liked it. She paused on a picture of someone named Karla. A pretty witch, but too skinny for Dred. In Middy’s opinion, anyway. Then she saw the text from Chancellor Godrickle.
Well, rocky road fudge! Dred had been telling the truth.
He was a spy.
That little nugget of clarity caused her to debate opening the attachment. A lead weight dropped from her throat into her gut. It told her, no, it screamed, that if she looked at whatever was in that file, it was going to change everything.
For a moment, she thought maybe that was a little overdra-matic.
Until she opened the file.
Middy dropped the device in horror as image after image of brutality appeared on the screen. Fledgling gargoyles, mutilated and murdered. It wasn’t so much the blood—she’d seen that before. It was look of terror on those little faces, the eyes wide, and the bow mouths open, pleading for their mothers.
It was a wanton destruction of innocence.
She felt completely helpless as the images flashed before her, helpless to get away from them because those scenes had been tattooed into her awareness, and helpless to do anything but sit there and damn a world where something like this could happen.
But no, she wasn’t helpless. Dred was going to find out who’d done this. He was going to stop them from doing it again. She could help him. Little Midnight Cherrywood had a chance to change the world.
Now, she understood. Her bit of inconvenient flesh really didn’t matter in the face of something like this. She felt a warmth spark inside of her and she realized that it was for Dred Shadowins.
It wasn’t the blatant lust that usually colored every single thing that had to do with him, and she still couldn’t say that she liked him. He was still a witchinizing bastard, but there was this tiny flame.
Its name was admiration.
There was something else, too. That warmth, that spark—there was hope there. It sparked her magick, like a waterfall of fireworks as if there was something inside of her that could have changed those broken little bodies, could have mended them.
But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER TEN
The Broom Sleigh
Five days later, Dred Shadowins escorted Middy Cherrywood and her bit of luggage to Snow Manor. He was thrilled that she was such a practical witch and managed to cram all of her necessities into one case and a garment bag.
He’d never known a witch who could do that, but Dred thought that it should be a course offered at the Academy: Magickal Packing for the Smart Witch . Yes, he’d have to see about talking to the council to get that added as an elective.
Middy would be the perfect witch to design the course.
It would also be a way to pay her for her help. He’d already agreed to fund the Gargoyle Masque for the rest of his life, but who knew how long that would be if these bastards had already raised a lamia? A lamia could spell the end of mortal and magickal civilization. Dred knew of only one way to combat something so evil: great sacrifice. And the only thing Dred had that he valued above all else was his life. Still, he’d gladly give it to save his world.
Dred sighed, knowing he had to keep his head in the game. He pushed Spy!Dred down and slipped into his RichPlayboy!Dred persona. He watched as broom after broom arrived,
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