“But nothing. Do what I said. I’ll be home shortly,” I say, ending the call and groaning as I look down at the stake.
I grab it at the base, trying to pull it out of myself with no give.
“Fucking wonderful,” I mutter to myself.
That must be the inscriptions he has on the stakes. Some old magic that prevents vampires from being able to rip the wood out of their own flesh. Must be why he left me here and didn’t put up much of a fight even though I ripped out his throat.
I don’t feel pain like a human does, but as I roll on to my front, my hands and knees covered in dirt, it’s the most intense pain I’ve felt in decades. With a ridiculous amount of effort I’m able to get on my knees and I rip my shirt down the front, watching where my skin is darkening around the stake.
If it was in the heart, I would have been dead immediately. Whatever magic is imbued in the stake is powerful. If I don’t get it out soon, it might actually kill me.
I can’t die now, not now that my witch needs me.
I’m glad no one is here to watch my embarrassing show of getting to my feet as I trudge my way back to Ember’s home. Walking up the four porch steps is nearly enough to make me fall over. I press my forehead against the wood of her door, using my foot to knock.
“Ember,” I rasp her name. “Open the door.”
“How do I know it’s you?”
“Open the fucking door,” I say too sharply.
“Yeah, that’s one way to know it’s you,” she says.
She’s slow with opening the door, my body leaning against an invisible barrier since I haven’t been invited in.
I need her to invite me in. More than anything, I need her to rip this stake out of my stomach.
She gasps as she takes in my appearance. Blood smeared on my chin, my shirt ripped in half, and a stake protruding out of my gut.
“I guess you weren’t lying about killing Baptiste, sunshine. Slayer said he’s after you,” I tell her.
“What? Oh shit. Are you going to die?” she asks, looking me up and down as her hand goes to her mouth.
“Invite me in. The Slayer is injured and I need to be at full strength if he comes back.”
This stake in my stomach makes me feel nauseous as I hope she lets me in. I can’t decide if it’s because the Slayer is out there or because I get a thrill from the idea of her inviting me into her home.
I can tell her raccoon is mouthing off, but I don’t really have time for this shit.
“I’ll protect you. I already vowed it. I promise not to harm your raccoon or the annoying fucking fairies either. Just invite me in and I’ll keep you safe.”
A truth, the most honest thing I’ve ever said.
She bites her lip, her eyes wide as she grapples over her decision. The witch is too caring, too sweet for her own good as the words, “Warin, won’t you come in?” spill from her lips.
I stumble into the house. The raccoon is tugging on his fur, pacing in the small kitchen as I fall to the floor on my hands and knees and roll onto my back.
“Gus. Shut up. What was I supposed to do?” she shouts at her familiar.
My hands tremble, gripping the stake, as I attempt to tug again with no movement.
“Fuck,” I groan as Ember comes to sit on her knees next to me.
No matter how much the wound aches, I can’t help but notice the way her overabundant breasts spill out of the top she’s wearing.
“Really? You’re injured and staring at my boobs?”
“One last spectacular view before I perish,” I say, attempting a smile that turns into a wince.
