My face goes hot. Ugh. I turn away before he notices. Seriously, I prefer just hating him.
The salt flats stretch out around us, endless white under the stars. I inhale, tasting salt on my tongue. It's weirdly peaceful out here—present company excluded—no monsters, no clearbloods, no Darkbirch politics. Just... space.
“Earth to Brynn,” Chad waves his hand in front of my face. “What do we need for this ritual?”
I snap back to reality. “Right. So the Farrow Circle is kind of a bitch. It needs a sacrifice.”
“What kind of sacrifice?” His eyes narrow.
“Blood. Like, a lot of it. Can't be mine since I'm casting, and I need to stay conscious.”
“How much blood are we talking?” The furrow between his eyebrows deepens.
“Enough to make you dizzy as hell.”
“Brynn. How. Much.”
I wince. “Two pints?”
Chad's laugh sounds like gravel. “Let me guess, there's a catch. There's always a catch with blood magic.”
“Hey, I didn't write the spell,” I say, shrugging.
He rolls up his sleeve and thrusts his wrist at me. “Whatever. Just do it.”
“You sure about this?”
“Unless corpse blood works, in which case those three assholes I killed are right over there.”
Before I can answer, he's already slicing his wrist open. The blood wells up dark against his skin, and I guide him around the salt flats, watching as he paints our circle. By the time we finish, he's swaying on his feet, his face ghost-white. I grab his arm before he face-plants and help him to the ground at the edge of our bloody artwork.
I step into the center and take a deep breath. “So... there's kind of another unpleasant part coming.”
“Seriously?” His eyes widen. “Bleeding me like a stuck pig wasn't the unpleasant part?”
I cup my hands and summon green flame—my specialty—then sprinkle salt into it. “Sorry about this,” I mutter, and I actually mean it. I drop the flame onto Chad's blood.
The whole circle ignites in emerald fire, and Chad hits the ground screaming. Like, full-on horror-movie screaming.
“The circle needs a piece of your soul,” I explain, wincing as he writhes. “Only a Salem can cast it. There wasn't another way.”
“Fuck you, Brynn!” He's curled into a ball now. “You could've fucking warned me!”
“Would you have done it if I had?”
“No.” He gasps through clenched teeth. “Maybe. I don't know. But I deserved the choice!”
“I'll make it up to you,” I say, raising my hands. The ancient words taste like metal as I whisper them into the night. Green pulses ripple outward through the salt, like someone dropped a stone inglowing water. I scan the horizon until—oh gods—there it is, about a mile away.
Golden lines start to shimmer across the salt flats like someone's drawing with a magic marker.Damn, the Farrow Circle actually worked.
“I see it!” I tell Chad, practically bouncing. “Itworked!I can see?—”
“Turn the godsdamned circle off, then!” Chad's voice is all gravel and pain. “I'm in agony here!”
“Oh, yes, sorry...”
I tap the design with my boot, and just like that—poof—the green fire dies. The blood lines go dark against the salt, looking way more serial-killer-y now without the magical glow. Chad and I lock eyes, and wow, awkward much?
