Devils Roses 04 - Witch

pulled a vial from her handbag and a knife from her huge hair. She said something over the vial. It swirled red, as if blood were already inside. Then suddenly it was clear again.
    Sam put his free hand out for them. She gripped it like a snake striking. She rubbed it over her chubby sweaty face. Sam looked ready to gag but he held himself straight. She pulled his hand down to her level. She licked his palm making him flinch. She dragged the knife across his hand and then closed it tight into a fist. The blood dripped out quickly in the vial she held below.
    Her smile grew wicked and crazed as the blood filled.
    "You fucking idiots."
    The blonde hissed and stepped back.
    Ophelia looked to see Oliver walking down the road. She swooned seeing him in a white dress shirt open slightly at the top revealing a lot more tattoo and faded jeans. He wore his same weird loafers but somehow they made the outfit look classy. She looked up from his chest, and tattoos that teased her from beneath his white shirt, to see an angry face.
    "Give him back his blood."
    His English accent wasn’t helping Ophelia focus.
    Oliver looked at Sam's hand over hers and growled, "Give him back the fucking blood witch."
    His gaze could have ripped Sam apart, "You never give your blood to anyone freely you idiot. She could control you."
    The dark haired witch smirked, "Dark brother what say we share them. You can have the girl and we take the Siren. No one needs to know."
    Oliver took a step toward her. The confused look on her face spoke volumes. She was doing magic on Oliver but it wasn’t working.
    He snatched the blood vial from her hands. She quickly licked at the spilled blood. It was disgusting to see."
    Sam looked calm but Ophelia knew he would be freaking out if he could feel anything. She was freaking out. Oliver angry was hot and scary. She couldn’t take the situation seriously. Between Sam and Oliver she was a mess. She noticed the other witches were the same though. They seemed to be affected as she was.
    They were more than taken with Sam. They were desperate to have him and his blood.
    Oliver shot daggers at Sam, "The castle."
    He never even got the sentence out and the three of them were standing in the front foyer of Giselle's.
    Ophelia looked at them, "We never got the secret."
    Oliver seethed, "Are you trying to get yourselves killed. I told you to find them. Not to give them your blood."
    Sam shrugged, "They wouldn’t give us the spell otherwise."
    Oliver raised an eyebrow, "That would be why I said wait till I could take you."
    "What is going on? Why is he not chained up?"
    Oliver burst out laughing at Aimee's confused face, "You don’t really believe those stupid chains would hold me do you. I came here to help and that’s what I'm trying to do. If you can stay alive long enough for me to be of some help." Oliver stormed off into the mansion.
    Aimee watched him walk past, "He let us think that would hold him? Where have you two been?"
    Sam looked at Hanna walking up to them, "Trying to fix my little problem."
    Ophelia felt defeated, "We never found out the end of the spell Sam. I can't do it."
    Sam looked at her, "We scry."
    He continued to hold her hand and dragged her down the hallway. If she didn’t know any better he was feeling something. He seemed annoyed or defeated.
    He dragged her to her room and started lighting candles. She dug out the purple bag where she kept the scrying plate. The bag that kept it had to be purple for protection. She thought maybe white, but Annabelle laughed at her and handed her the purple bag.
    She placed it on the table where the chairs were by the fireplace. Sam closed the curtains and flashed in front of her with a glass of water. She poured the water and knelt before the plate. She let her mind clear. Oliver attempted at climbing into her thoughts but she pushed him away. When her mind was blank the bottom fell away from the scrying plate. She watched the water start to churn. The waves grew and started lapping over the edges of the plate, spoiling onto the wooden table. A mist covered the plate, as if hiding the answers from her. She blew the mist aside to reveal a crystal clear picture.
    Three women sat in a small clearing. They looked up to a full moon. One woman pulled a small blade from a sheet she had wrapped with tools in it. She dragged the knife across each of the other people's hands and poured them into a goblet. She poured red wine into the goblet and cut her own hand.