Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

spiraling in a vortex above the kitchen table. It hovered there, awaiting further instruction.

Deep inside, a rush of energy shivered through our shared veins, crashing along the circulatory network and into our arms, where it careened down to our palms. Red light pulsated against Nash’s temples, feeding into his skull and turning his eyes the same ruby shade as Kadar’s. I gasped, though nobody heard me, buried within my own body. Nash’s pupils swelled, and black tendrils snaked into the red until his eyeballs turned to darkness.

The moment they went completely black, the hovering smoke surged into him, slithering through his mouth, his nose, his ears, and his eyes. I felt sick, watching what could only be described as possession. I wished I could’ve turned to see the others’ reactions, but I had to focus on what held Kadar’s attention. And he wasn’t about to look away from Nash for anything.

A gurgling sound swished in the back of Nash’s open mouth. He slammed his fists on the table, a sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead. His body jerked and jolted as Kadar fed that red light into him. This had to be painful. It hurt us, so I could only imagine what it felt like for Nash. Small stabs of pain struck us in the gut, and our lungs struggled to keep up. Meanwhile, the black of Nash’s eyes continued its takeover, snaking out to his skin and spiderwebbing across his features.

“Are you sure this is helping him?” I heard Melody’s concerned voice.

“Kadar knows what he’s doing,” Santana replied. Though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Nash convulsed violently as the black strands made their way down his neck to the rest of him, prompting Finch and Luke to action. Luke wrapped his arms around Nash’s body to stop him from convulsing right off the chair. In retrospect, we should have started with Nash lying down or in restraints to keep him safe. But we had to make do with what we had.

The black strands turned from deadly darkness to a throbbing shade of scarlet. No sooner had the color shifted than the strands receded, gliding back through him in reverse. Eventually, the threads reached his eyes once more, and Nash’s whole body shuddered. The inky stain swirled, blending red and black, until red won.

Nash blinked once, and a pulse of searing crimson light exploded outward, hitting everyone in the vicinity with a blast of unadulterated energy that sent them flying. Kadar clung to Nash’s head, his palms lodged against his temples, until the light faded.

I looked over and saw that Nash’s eyes had returned to normal. He stared up at Kadar, exhausted. The only indication that anything had happened to him lay in the two minuscule specks of red, like freckles, which now sat in his vibrant blue irises.

“Did you… do it?” Nash wheezed.

Kadar smirked, though he’d lost some of his gusto. In his weakened state, this had taken a lot out of him. More than he wanted anyone to realize, though he couldn’t hide his pain from me. “I did, and I didn’t even need to gouge your eyes out with spoons.”

“You could’ve warned us.” Finch picked himself up and dusted himself off.

“What would’ve been the fun in that?” Kadar replied, delivering his usual sass to keep up appearances. However, I got something very different from my symbiotic partner.

I need to rest, Raffe. It is done, but I have to sleep for some time… That used up more of my energy than I anticipated. I still need to learn my new limits.

Take all the time you need, I replied, changing places with him. Within me, I sensed Kadar curl up and go to sleep, and my mind felt oddly quiet without him.

As the rest of our group rose to their feet, Ryann crossed over to the couch and picked up a tin box. She brought it to the table and flipped the lid, revealing a syringe and glass vials.

“I brought this from the storage cupboard with the bandages,” she explained. “I thought it might save us a trip later.”

“I guess you want to stick me like a pincushion now? I suppose it’s best to get it out of the way in one go.” Nash glanced at me. “You must be itching to separate from that djinn. He’s a brutal bastard. My head’s going to ring for days.”

I forced a smile, grateful Kadar was asleep. “It’s what we both want.”

“So, who’s going to do the honors?” Nash let his gaze move across the group.

“I will,” Finch volunteered, sitting next to Nash.

Scraping the tin box along the table, he removed a rubbery tube that lay coiled in the bottom like a yellowish snake. With remarkable precision, he tied the tube above Nash’s elbow and pulled it tight. Next, he removed the syringe and slid it seamlessly into the bluish rise of Nash’s vein. Unsettlingly, it appeared Finch had done this before. I liked to think I knew everything about my friend, but perhaps he still had old secrets. Tricks and skills he’d learned in his time with the cult that he never used in his new life as one of the good guys.

Deftly, Finch drew eight vials, stoppering each before moving on. That seemed like a lot, but I couldn’t question Finch without mentioning the E-word. Besides, Nash didn’t seem perturbed by the quantity. He simply sat with his face turned away, not watching the blood spurt out of him and into the vials.

“All done?” Nash asked as Finch stoppered the eighth vial.

He laid them all in the tin box. “Yep, all done. I’d give you a sticker, but I’m fresh out.”

“Not even a lollipop?”

“Fresh out of them, too.” Finch smiled, but it came off strange. Like guilt was attempting to break through.

“What’s the point in having blood taken if you don’t get sugar afterward?” Nash seemed jovial enough. “Anyway, now that you’ve got what you need, do you think you’ll do the spell today? I’d like to sit in on