Lockhart's Legacy (Vespari Lockhart Book 1) Read Free Page A

pushing the slender beldam out of her way and stomping toward Lockhart.
    The fat beldam grabbed Lockhart’s left arm, shredding the rope that suspended him from one of the meat hooks and causing him to swing there, held up only by the hook they’d bound his right hand to. Alviva then pulled the hand toward her mouth, but Petronila grabbed her to stop her.
    “A hex!” she shouted.
    Alviva stopped, looked at Petronila, to Lockhart, his hand, and back to Petronila. “What kind of hex?”
    Petronila grinned, showing off her jagged little teeth. “Think of all the power he has inside him. All the monsters he’s killed.” She ripped his shirt to the side, exposing the intricate vespari tattoos on his chest. “Through these runes, he’s bound untold scores of our kind inside him. Even Gunnilda is inside him now.”
    “What’s your point?” Mabilia asked from behind them. “We kill him, and he won’t be able to do it anymore.”
    “Yeah,” Estrild chimed in. “Kill him. Eat him. Suck his bones clean! Shit out his meat!”
    “No,” Alviva said, dropping Lockhart’s left hand and causing him to swing again from his right arm, still held up on the single meat hook. “Petronila is onto something.”
    “Thank you, Alviva,” the slender beldam said, bowing even further down. She pointed back at Lockhart. “We place a consumptive hex on him, letting the power stored inside him flow into us.”
    Alviva smiled and turned to face the others. “I like it.”
    All four of the beldams huddled together, discussing the hex they intended to place on him. Lockhart had a moment. He had an opportunity. Alviva had left his one hand free. That had to be enough. The beldams had taken his gun from him, but his knife remained tucked into his boot on the opposite foot.
    Suppressing a groan, Lockhart lowered his hand and raised his foot up as far as he could. His fingers pawed at the knife’s handle, not quite able to reach. The wound at his gut was tearing ever more. He couldn’t give up. He refused. He gritted his teeth and reached again. Whatever stitching he’d managed to do before tore, and more blood spilled out over his belt and pants. He’d deal with that later. If there was a later. He gripped the knife in his hand.
    That’s where his plan ended. Having the knife wasn’t enough. He needed the strength to use it, and he found that wavering. His eyes closed, but he forced them open again. Lockhart pushed past the weakness. He had a job to do. With his bound hand, Lockhart grabbed the hook and raised himself off it. It wasn’t enough to get him off the hook, but it was enough for him to slide the knife between the hook and his hand.
    Unfortunately, Lockhart didn’t have time to cut the rope. The beldams turned back to him, and he released the knife. It stuck there between the hook and his hand, slicing into the flesh of his palm. He grimaced at the pain, doing his best to ignore it. They hadn’t noticed his escape attempt, and so he played along, continuing to dangle there like their prey.
    “We’ve prepared something special for you,” Alviva told him.
    The fat beldam approached him, belly jiggling and with a bowl of viscous black, almost metallic ink in one hand and a needle in the other.
    “One last ingredient,” she added.
    The fat beldam pursed her lips together and let a thick drop of her saliva ooze down into the bowl. Mabilia, Estrild, and Petronila all repeated this disgusting step, adding their own bodily fluids to this black substance. They bound themselves to it, and now they intended to bind it to him.
    Before he could do anything, Mabilia approached him from the side and grabbed his free arm. She gripped it so tight, he thought she might break his wrist. The small one, Estrild, skulked behind the others, still afraid to look him in the eye, only occasionally looking up at him through the strands of hair that fell down and partially covered her eyes. Petronila moved to his other side and grabbed his