Everything tangled, fingers clumsy, movements sluggish, clothing cumbersome.
“Get it together,” Nate hissed.
I
lurched to him. A burning sensation ran down my arm where it brushed
his. He jumped back, cursing. Then he pulled his gun and shot the priest
in the head.
Discordant howling filled the graveyard, spirits crying out for bodies once inhabited.
The Houngan, unharmed, touched down. “My turn now.”
I
leaned against Nate, using the shock loop to break the priest's spell.
I relinquished the vile vial, then blinked the rain from my eyes.
Nate’s tattoo was moving, color bleeding towards me, filling old scars.
___________
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