Page 27 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

Instantly, she slammed her foot on the gas, and the car surged forward, her heart pounding as the ache burned beneath her ribs. It wasn’t her pain, so how was she feeling it? And how the hell did she know where to go?

“This is ridiculous.” Even though she was already turning down a side road when a narrow alley appeared ahead of her, slick with rain.

Another alley?!

You’d think she’d learned her lesson about going into dark places after last time.

But she couldn’t stop.

A figure in a hooded black cloak moved at its mouth. It somehow stirred the air into a metallically foul stench that she remembered only too well from her first encounter with the Black Cloaks.

But as her headlights swept over the scene, that thing was standing over Zarek, who was sprawled on the ground holding his side, his blades scattered out of arm’s reach.

“Oh no, you don’t.” A potent protectiveness tore through her chest like fire. Gritting her teeth, again she floored the gas pedal.

Metal screamed as the car struck the cloaked figure, the impact jolting her teeth. The Black Cloak slammed onto the hood with a hollow thud, its claws scraping against the paint as it tried to rise.

Angela yanked the handbrake, and the tires screeched to a halt.

From her handbag, she dragged out a cloth pouch. It opened, spilling coarse white salt crystals across the passenger seat. It was ridiculous to carry, but nothing compared to the chipped and scarred athame she also dragged along with her.

Her heart raced as she pushed the driver’s door wide, the headlights gave an eerie glow as the windscreen wipers shifted across the windshield. Following her instincts, as if something else had control, she threw the salt in a wave like snow falling across her car’s hood, where the Black Cloak was pushing itself upright.

The Black Cloak hissed as the salt struck its chest, forcing it back. Steam erupted on both fabric and flesh that blistered like it was coming off a boiling pot. It unleashed a horrifically inhuman scream that should have broken glass. Even though it hurt her ears, she again reacted without thinking, and drove the athame down.

The blade sank into the creature’s chest.

The scream cut off instantly.

Its body stiffened, then turned into gray stone, only to collapse and disintegrate into a fine layer of ash that slid off the hood of her car and across the wet pavement.

In the heavy silence, Angela stared at her hands that had thrown salt over winter ice, or tossed into boiling water to cook her pasta, but now she had just used it to kill.

She staggered back, her eyes widening at the ash where a body should have been. Still holding the blade that lived in her junk drawer of her kitchen that had—had—

“Oh, mercy…what have I done?”

She’d stabbed it.

Wait. That was after she ran it down!?

Oh no, there would be witnesses. Right? Cameras. Someone would have seen it. There was always someone watching with a camera phone.

But was it self-defense?

Wait, who was the victim? There was no proof of death, except for the weapon in her hand that held no blood.

Murder required intent. Right? When this was the most unplanned thing she’d ever done in her life. She was supposed to be going home after locking up the bookstore, not steer her life so far off-course to commit a crime against whatever that thing was that turned to ash.

But laws against manslaughter didn’t care about intent. Negligent homicide didn’t care about monsters.

“How many years?” Ten? Twenty? Life?

She wanted to collapse or grip her head tight to make sense of what made her do this, even better if she just woke up in bed to find it a new sunny day. Anything but this dark alley where she couldn’t even see the stars.

But then the hot pain tore viciously through her side, dragging her attention back to where Zarek lay against the brick wall on the edge of the headlights’ glow. Half-curled on his side, dark blood soaked through his leather armor, spreading beneath his gloved fingers.

Fear washed through her like ice. “Zarek?”