Touch of death, p.1
Touch of Death, page 1
TOUCH OF DEATH
TAYLOR MUNSELL
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
More from CamCat Books
The Premonitions Club
More Spellbinding Reads from CamCat Books
CamCat Books
CamCat Publishing, LLC
Fort Collins, Colorado 80524
camcatpublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
© 2024 by Taylor Munsell
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address CamCat Publishing, LLC, 1281 East Magnolia Street, #D1032, Fort Collins, CO 80524.
Hardcover ISBN 9780744310238
Paperback ISBN 9780744310245
Large-Print Paperback ISBN 9780744310290
eBook ISBN 9780744310252
Audiobook ISBN 9780744310306
Library of Congress Control Number: 2024931200
Cover and book design by Maryann Appel
Cover artwork by Colin Verdi
5 3 1 2 4
for Charlotte & Olivia
always follow your dreams
CHAPTER ONE
Blood doesn’t scare me. That’s not the reason for the tremor in my hands.
There are things far worse than a little blood.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I grumble, kicking the toe of my boot against the gym floor.
“I’m not making you do anything.” Felix bumps me with his broad shoulder. “I simply suggested you should go through the blood drive. It’s expected.”
My snort earns a narrowing of his brown eyes. Expected. I don’t know how a blood drive honors the memory of a student, but he’s right: every person in the school is “doing their part.”
“But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” I reach up to fiddle with the peridot crystal pendant at my neck. If nothing else, maybe it’ll actually shield my emotions today. “I should have asked Gran to make me a draft to calm my nerves.”
Though I’m not sure even Gran, the most powerful witch in the coven, could make a draft strong enough for that. She wouldn’t try if she knew I was only doing this to say I need to go to bed earlier to recover and get out of the coven meeting tonight.
Felix lowers his voice. “We can leave.”
I shake my head. “We’ve already been seen. Time to be a big girl.” And we’re next. The line of students waiting to donate blood still stretches behind us, but any second now Felix and I will be whisked away to one of the portable beds lining the school gymnasium.
“Your call.” Felix shrugs. “Anyway, no harm can really come from it.”
Not true.
I glance around the gym. Every light is on, but they aren’t really bright enough. The stench of stale sweat hangs in the air, mingling with the too-strong smell of antiseptic.
A shudder courses through me as I try, and fail, not to think about what that antiseptic smell is covering up. Blood might not scare me, but it’s still not my favorite.
At least there are no unwelcome guests so far. Although they aren’t visible, I feel them pressing in on me, trying to make me see them. I tug on the hem of my glove, more out of habit than anything. They’re one of my favorite pairs: the black lace is almost as smooth as the silk that lines them. If I have to wear gloves, might as well make a statement.
“They’ll be wearing gloves too,” Felix says gently. “They won’t touch you.”
Nodding, I hope I seem more confident than I feel.
“Felix Davies,” another junior girl calls. Her sleek black ponytail falls to her mid-back. She’s dressed in scrubs, so she must be in the school’s nursing program. Her dark eyes move to find Felix grinning at her. Color floods her beige skin.
Felix has that effect on most girls—and boys—to be honest. Between his warm brown skin, easy smile, and dark, inviting eyes, he can charm anyone.
Except me. Just thinking about it gives me the creeps. He’s basically the big brother I never had.
“Come w-with me,” she stammers. Poor girl.
“Georgiana Colburn?” an unfamiliar voice calls.
“George,” I say reflexively. Felix glances back and gives me a thumbs-up.
The nurse and owner of the unfamiliar voice smiles at me, her eyes only momentarily snagging on my blue hair.
“Right this way, young lady,” the nurse says as she escorts me down the row of beds. I glance back, trying to catch Felix’s eyes, but he’s busy charming his student nurse while she gets him settled.
I follow my nurse to an empty bed, palms slick with sweat inside my gloves as I sit down. The crinkling of the paper lining the bed as I adjust makes me cringe.
As the nurse works, my mind races, trying to think of any spell or incantation, anything that would make this situation less daunting, but I come up with nothing. For being a witch in a coven so connected to death, an event with this much blood should send power coursing through me, especially considering my specific gifts. But I’ve got nothing. Maybe I should actually pay attention in my magic lessons.
I hear the snap of gloves, a tear, and then the smell of alcohol burns my nose. In a few swift movements, she is tapping on my wrapped arm, looking for a vein. The nurse notices the way my whole body tenses as she touches me.
“Take a deep breath,” she says, probably thinking I’m nervous about the needle, not that her skin might touch mine, and I’ll wind up experiencing her death. Even with her gloves on, I don’t feel safe.
A hiss escapes my lips as the needle slides in.
“Good girl.” She adjusts the blood bag before pulling off her gloves and tossing them in one of the bins along the center of the room. The blood drains from my face at the sight of her bare skin. “You’re all set. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”
She heads to another student down the row, leaving me alone. After almost a lifetime of dealing with it, I’ve gotten quite good at avoiding touching. Gloves, covered skin, even the attitude is another way to keep me safe. Still, the occasional slip happens. Someone will pat my cheek or catch my arm, their fingers grazing the skin between my glove and sleeve, and I’ll slip into experiencing their death. Just the thought makes me shudder.
The bed to my left is empty, but the poor kid in the bed to my right looks like he’s trying to scoot as far away from me as possible. My attitude might work a little too well in keeping people away.
It still hurts my feelings, even after all these years. I wish I could tell my classmates that I don’t want to get near them either. The encounter is always worse for me than it is for them.
My eyes find Felix, and he flashes me a grin, just as cool as ever. His poor student nurse is still standing by him, black ponytail bouncing as she talks.
I scan the rest of the gym. My gaze catches on a girl with dark skin and tight curls. She smiles and gives a little wave. I stare back at her as my brain tries to process if she meant the wave for me.
It’s possible. She’s a witch too, and with Gran as the coven’s Supreme, she’d know who I am. She’s new, only moving here a couple of weeks ago for the beginning of the school year. I rack my brain trying to remember why she moved here. Something about a divorce, I think. Intercoven marriages can be tricky, especially when the spouses have two different magics. Almost every witch ends up in the coven that’s not ours. Death witches make other witches kind of jumpy. Ridiculous, but true.
I realize I’ve let my mind wander too long, but the boy on her left catches her attention before I can decide to wave back.
Closing my eyes, I lean against the headrest, trying not to think of ways to kill Felix for talking me into this. I know he meant well, but still. It’s not like he has to worry about the risks. Ghosts don’t appear to him if he lets his guard down.
My breathing and the squeaking of shoes on the gym floor fill my ears. A heavy feeling settles on me, raising the hairs on my arms. Someone’s watching me.
“Why hasn’t anyone come to see me yet?” an all-too-familiar voice asks from beside me.
Shit.
Guess the crystal isn’t going to work today. With the way my magic has been acting up as my ascension closes in, I shouldn’t be surprised. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, but I can still feel her beside me.
< br /> Of all the gifts the Goddess could bless us with, being a medium isn’t a common one among magic wielders, but it’s not unheard of, especially among death witches. Gran would always spew something about embracing the cycle of life and how their presence is an honor. But she never had a ghost appear behind her in the mirror when she was brushing her teeth. When I was little, it would terrify me when the occasional ghost showed up. As I got older, it became more of a nuisance than anything else.
“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale. Well, paler than usual.”
I’m sure she does too. Maybe if I don’t respond, she’ll go away.
“Isn’t your name Georgia or something?”
Guess not. “Georgiana—but my friends call me George.” Well, friend.
“Whatever. Why did that nurse help you first? I was here before you.”
I peel one eye open. Sure enough, Jen’s lounging on the empty bed, bubblegum-pink bicycle helmet in her lap. Her complexion is more translucent than golden now, but there’s no mistaking her.
I’ve put a lot of time into trying to decide what would make this less weird. At least they never look gruesome, just a slightly less corporeal version of themselves. I think I would have died the first time I saw one if they were the horrific-looking ghosts from horror movies. I can’t think of a way ghosts could be normal, but it always creeps me out when they’re carrying the items they died with. If there’s a reason some do and some don’t, I’m not aware of it. Though I’ve never been inclined to ask one.
“I don’t know, Jen. Maybe she likes me better.” Not the nicest thing to say.
But Jen wasn’t the nicest either.
She eyes me, sucking her teeth before speaking. “You know my name?”
“Obviously.” Everyone knows her name. If they didn’t before, they sure do by now. In the three weeks since the accident, she’s become more popular than ever. This is the Jennifer Monroe Memorial Blood Drive after all.
She preens and shifts on the bed.
“Makes sense.” She looks at me again. “You look a little sweaty.”
Brushing my damp bangs from my forehead, I mumble a yes before glancing back at Felix. The grin is gone, and concern now creases his brow.
“I’m fine,” I mouth to him. He nods, looking unconvinced. I can’t blame him. While I’ve been dealing with this most of my life, he’s only seen me interact a few times. Normally, I can ignore them. Unless I’m under duress, like when blood is flowing from a needle in my arm into a bag.
Jen follows my gaze. “You’re always hanging around him. Are you two, like, a thing?”
I snort, forgetting I’m trying not to look like I’m talking to myself. The boy on the bed to my right scoots a little farther away. “No.”
“Dumb question. You aren’t his type.” She scoffs, dragging her eyes from my blue hair to my Doc Martens.
“I’m sure that’s it,” I say through gritted teeth. I have to remind myself that she’s been through a lot.
Jen pulls her long blond hair over her shoulder before leaning back, the paper remaining smooth beneath her. “I hope they hurry up soon. I’m supposed to meet Jason tonight.”
I don’t respond. I’d prefer to avoid being the one to tell her she won’t be meeting Jason tonight. Or any other night.
“Hey,” Jen says as the nurse comes to check my bag.
“You okay, sweetie?” the nurse asks as I cringe. I nod. “Hmm. Well, you should be done soon. Yell if you need anything.” She smiles before turning away.
“Um, I need something!” Jen calls after her. The nurse doesn’t turn around. “Unbelievable! She just completely ignored me.”
As much as I don’t want to be the one to tell her what’s happening, I can never bear when they’re in this state of confusion.
“Jen?” Might as well get this over with. “What’s in your lap?”
Jen watches the nurse another moment before looking at the helmet. “My bike helmet.” She runs a finger along the large crack on the side. “How’d this get here?” she breathes.
Don’t make me be the one to say it.
“Weird. I don’t know why I have this. I don’t ride my bike to school.”
Only to her boyfriend’s house at night. She’s still looking at her helmet, confusion crinkling her perfect skin.
I hate this part. I hate when they don’t know. I hate having to be the one to tell them.
“Hey Jen.” I dig into my back pocket for the flyer and awkwardly unfold it with one hand. “Can you come here and read this for me?”
“Can you not read?” she snarks, not looking at me.
I take a deep breath and remind myself, again, that she’s been through a lot. “I’m a little woozy. Please?” The last word grates along my nerves.
“Fine.” She hops up from the bed. Her hands grip her helmet as she comes up beside me.
“Why do you have a flyer with my picture on it?” Her pert nose wrinkles in disgust.
“Just read the paper.” I sigh, bracing myself.
So many emotions flit across her beautiful face: confusion, anger, grief, before settling on denial. Her emotions clang through me.
“This can’t be for me.” She glances around the gymnasium at our classmates gathered there.
“It is.”
Hazel eyes lift to meet mine. It’s not lost on me that I may be the only one to ever look into those eyes again.
“But why am I here then?” Her words are barely a whisper. I tense as realization dawns and her gaze drops to the cracked helmet in her hand.
Her jaw slackens as her wave of despair crashes into me.
And then she’s gone, unable to hold on to her form in her anguish.
It’s always the same.
She didn’t even know my name before today, but a tear still rolls down my cheek.
And then Felix is interrupting his bubbly young nurse, trying to get up and come to me. He knows something’s wrong now. I won’t be able to convince him otherwise.
My eyes find them, the others lurking on the outskirts of the gym. The ones who have been with me since the beginning and the ones who have joined along the way. I feel them—their grief and rage and despair—as they linger in my peripherals. They’re a part of me.
I wonder if Jen will join them.
CHAPTER TWO
As soon as the nurse pulls the needle from my arm, I’m off the bed and leaving the blood drive, completely ignoring her as she scolds me about needing to take it easy.
Felix is hot on my heels as I try to put distance between myself and the gym. Maybe if I walk fast enough, the ghosts will stay in there for now. Not likely, but a girl can dream.
“What happened?” Felix calls after me.
“Nothing.” I don’t look back as I stomp down the hallway.
“Did someone touch you?”
“No.” Thank the Goddess for that. “I told you, it was nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.” Felix’s long legs help him easily keep up with me. The hallways are empty since most students are in the courtyard before school starts or at the blood drive.
“What do you know? You couldn’t see her.” I mean it like a joke, but my words sound brittle even to my ears.
“George, the comedian.” Felix grabs my elbow to stop me. He lets go when I wince and nods at my arm, at the bandage under my sleeve. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“It’s fine.”
I take a deep breath through my nose.
“It was Jen,” I say with a whoosh.
“Monroe?”
“One and the same.”
“Is she still here?” Felix glances around.
