Free Apocalyptic Mojo by Sam Cheever

very high indeed.
    “Do it.”
    Sirius lowered his head and sniffed the wound, growling low in his throat, and began to lick it. As his tongue touched the blackened flesh, sparks, like tiny silver stars, flew upward, and Draigh jerked as if in pain.
    Ardith knew there would be exquisite pain from Sirius’ healing magics. His power was forged millennia ago and carried with it all the energy of the ages. The force of his magic didn’t just ride the surface of the body it infused, it gathered in the cells and ripped them apart, before reassembling them in a stronger fashion, even stronger than before they’d been harmed.
    It was the reason Sirius was such a coveted and valued familiar. It was the thing that made Ardith such a powerful witch.
    Slowly, Draigh stopped shuddering and his flesh began to return to its healthy, golden color. A moment later the wound healed, leaving behind only a narrow pink line as a remembrance of the wound.
    Another day or so would be the end of even that.
    Sirius sat back on his haunches and wagged his tail, his silver gaze sparking with his new secret.
    Ardith frowned. “Don’t read anything into it, star mutt.”
    Sirius barked. His tail thumped against the broken street.
    Draigh’s eyes fluttered open and he started to sit up. He groaned and fell back, sweat popping out on his wide brow.
    “Just rest for a minute. Sirius’ mojo does a number on the body.”
    Ardith swallowed her own groan as she pushed to her feet. She wobbled a moment, stars bursting before her eyes. Sirius moved to stand beside her, leaning gently against her leg as she reached down, digging her fingers into his fur and using him as support.
    “Are you ill, witch?”
    Her eyes popped open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. Draigh stood before her, looking concerned. “No. Just tired.”
    He blinked down at Sirius. “Thank you for your aid. I am eternally in your debt.”
    Sirius glared at him, his silver eyes flashing with accusation, and Draigh blinked again. But before he could ask, Ardith started forward. “Let’s go find that bitch.”
    Ardith wasn’t sure what she would do with the evil bitch once she found her. She was as weak as a kitten from the hunter’s healing. But she forced one foot in front of the other, trying not to sway. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask any more questions. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him why she was so weak.
    It wouldn’t do to have him reading anything into the gesture she’d made in saving him.

 
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    It seemed pretty obvious that the rogue witch was nearby. They had to kill several zombies on the street and a handful more as they entered the scarred and broken building the nasties had spilled from.
    Draigh kept a close eye on Ardith. She didn’t seem herself at all. She’d almost allowed one of the zombies to get the best of her. If it weren’t for her hound she’d have been killed. He slashed his knives through the dense, spongy neck of the final zombie and turned to her, grabbing her arm as she swayed on her feet.
    Her pretty face was much paler than it should have been and dark circles underscored her haunting gaze. He couldn’t help noting the fine tremor running through her body before she yanked her arm away.
    “Edwige must be behind those doors.” Ardith started across the darkened room, her usual sexy, swaying gait stiff and hesitant. She walked as if her very bones hurt.
    Draigh followed, his knives drawn. He didn’t like her weakness. It was affecting him on a much deeper level than it should. It wasn’t that he thought she would let him down if it came to a battle, though he knew she probably would, it was worse than that. He was afraid for her. He was afraid she would get hurt.
    The woman annoyed him too much to get under his skin. So why did he care?
    Ardith reached the distant door and stood, her hands splayed against its surface as she used her powers to discern what lay behind it. A low rumbling had begun