In the moonlight I saw the bright metallic flash of a huge-bladed dagger.
I grabbed it, and the girl fought me.
Her eyes widened, her mouth contorted, and her long-nailed hands clawed my face.
Then I heard his voice, and my name.
“Chelsea. Kill her. Now!”
The knife came down.
Blood splattered my face.
And she no longer fought.
She went limp and collapsed on the lawn, and her severed head rolled across the grass like a bloody volleyball. Her hair was a tangle of crimson wetness. Her wide bulging eyes stared upward at the full moon. Her mouth gaped. Gore seeped through her nostrils.
At my feet, her headless body jerked with spasms. It seemed to be trying to sit up. The legs shook and the arms flailed as blood spurted from the neck. The red liquid splashed onto my hands and my feet. Then the body gave out a tremendous shudder, and the convulsions stopped. The corpse was motionless.
I stared down at the knife in my hand. Blood dripped from its blade.
I was now a killer.
I had murdered someone, and I had done it for Ian Magick.
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