Pure Blooded

“I want to leave shortly after they arrive,” I said. “Backing Danny up is our number one priority.”

 

 

“We go as soon as they get here, but if Marcy can brew the spells you were talking about, it would be in our benefit to let her do that.” My father leaned forward. “Now that we know the bokor is strong, there’s a good chance she can separate us if we poise an attack, and I don’t know how to prevent that from happening. If Marcy has a good idea, we’ll have to listen to her.”

 

Rourke addressed my father. “I have no idea how to kill a bokor, do you?”

 

“I might know a thing or two.” Nick’s voice carried ahead of him. I’d heard two boats come up to the landing, but I’d assumed it was some of my dad’s wolves escorting James and Marcy.

 

“Nick!” I yelled, jumping up to give him a hug. “I’m so glad to see you!”

 

“Jess,” he said, gripping me tightly, before letting go. His brown curls were tousled around his head and his amber eyes bright. It appeared like my father had raised the alarms and called in his wolves. “I think it’s safe to say I’m the one who’s happy to see you. When I heard you were here, I was ecstatic. A round-trip ticket to the Underworld is quite impressive.”

 

I laughed. “Not as impressive as you might think. I’ll fill you in later. But first, what do you know about bokors and priestesses?”

 

“I’ve been doing some digging. We have a crappy satellite feed, which gives me spotty Internet, but it’s been enough to gather some information that may help. It seems they are fallible, which is good news.”

 

“I have some good news too,” Marcy chirped as she strode up behind Nick, James right behind her, his hand at her waist. “Lookit what I managed to brew up last night.” She shook a bag. “Goodies for defeating a bokor.”

 

“Are they dark spells?” I asked, peering into the bag.

 

“No,” she replied with a wink, “but they will be soon.”

 

 

 

 

 

10

 

 

 

 

 

“Stop wiggling,” Marcy commanded. “All I need is a few more drops. Quit being such a baby.”

 

I was perched at an awkward angle over a small fire she had kindled, my hand wrapped around her body so I didn’t have to witness the cutting. “I’m hardly being a baby. This is the fifth time you’ve sliced me open with a hunting knife, the kind used for skinning large prey. It’s not exactly like a needle prick,” I grumbled.

 

“If you’d stop healing the moment I poked you, we’d be golden. We need your blood. It’s the only thing that will cement these spells and make them strong enough to go up against the bokor’s magic.” She readjusted her grip on my wrist, tugging it over the pot. “And I just need a few more drops. Hold still.”

 

I gritted my teeth. “Hurry up.” My wrist throbbed. Marcy had brewed the initial spells at her camp but had to get them bubbling again to add my blood.

 

We were losing time.

 

She poked me again and I flinched. “No go. Nada. Healed up already. What are you anyway? Hercules? Who heals so fast a single drop of blood can’t drip out? I’ll have to make the gash longer and pray for just one little red bead.”

 

I closed my eyes as she slashed again. Even though I healed the wound almost instantaneously, it still burned like crazy. “Healing this fast is new for me,” I commented through a clenched jaw as she sawed on me one more time. “I had no idea, because I haven’t had the pleasure of encountering a hunting knife since I’ve been back from the Underworld.”

 

Rourke watched with his arms crossed. “I’m losing my patience, witch. One more time and you’re done.”

 

“It can’t hurt that bad. I’m not severing your arm,” Marcy said as she sliced and squeezed. “There, I got one. Just need one more. Calm your cat down. Lie and tell him it doesn’t hurt.”

 

The pain wasn’t actually that bad. “I think my human side is making it worse, if that makes any sense. I’m anticipating how badly it should hurt. There’s a burn, but then it eases up fairly quick—ow!” Marcy slashed deep and a single drop of blood plunked down into the pot, and the entire brew sizzled like water sprinkled on hot oil.

 

“Done.” Marcy chanted something under her breath. “Your blood is behaving like nothing I’ve ever seen before. My pot is popping with action. I’m considering that a win. There’s an old witch’s proverb: The stronger the blood, the more potent the spell.” The pot continued to sizzle as Marcy leaned over it. “I’ve just never seen blood this concentrated.” She released my arm and I brought it back to my side.

 

“That doesn’t sound like a proverb.”

 

“Fine, you got me. I just made it up. But look at it go.”

 

I peered over the bubbling pot. She was right. It looked like it was full of Pop Rocks.

 

“What spell are you brewing now?” my brother asked from his spot on the other side of the fire, leaning over to investigate. “It smells like moth balls crossed with grapefruit. Stale citrus.”