I circled the devil’s trap, trying to find some other way to break it. But whoever had done this had used powerful dark magic; I could feel its signature whenever I got close. It didn’t have the same effects on me as it did on Asher, but it was poison just the same. After less than a minute at close proximity, I was already weak and nauseated.
“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” I said.
Asher tried to speak, but all he managed was a bloody cough.
Steeling myself for another wave of sickness, I reached forward to touch his bare shoulder. His skin was feverish.
“I’m going to get you out of this,” I said. “Just… hang in there. And trust me.”
He didn’t respond, but I saw the hope flicker in his sea-blue eyes.
Backing a good six or seven feet away from the trap, I sat on the unvarnished wood floor in lotus position, just like Liam had shown me. Somewhere below, someone crashed down the staircase, Emilio growled, and Darius let loose a string of curses. I had no idea what was happening, who was winning, who was wounded… But I had to trust that they could hold off the vampires. That nothing would get through that attic door.
Clearing my mind, I centered myself and slowed my breathing, gently reaching out for my magic.
It came to me immediately, the now-familiar tingling across my skin. Though my eyes were closed, I sensed the tendrils of black smoke swirling around my legs. I didn’t fear it. Didn’t resist. Just accepted.
When I opened my eyes, I was in my meadow by the stone pedestal. It still smelled like fresh lavender and lilac, and I took a deep, steadying breath.
Beyond the pedestal, the trees parted again, revealing the path that would take me to the arch and the black skeleton-tree forest beyond. I hurried along until I reached the archway, the runes glowing bright silver-blue once again.
Passing through the iron gate, I reached for the closest branches, their familiar black-and-silver threads reaching back, sliding across my skin, closing around my hands and pulling tight.
I took a deep breath, feeling the fear surge inside me, then retreat.
This is my magic. There is nothing to fear.
I lifted my hands before my face, watching with a steely calm as they turned oily black, then ignited, burning with dark indigo flame.
“Gray? What are you doing?”
I turned to find Liam, dressed in the same jeans and red shirt I’d last seen him in. Beyond his usual all-knowingness, his Arctic ice eyes held a mix of curiosity and something that looked a lot like… pride.
“Magic,” I said, smiling and reaching for his hand. “And I need your help.”
Forty-Four
Liam
Gray Desario was full of surprises.
During her brief lifetime, I had already envisioned a thousand upon a thousand upon a thousand different destinies for her, each one equally possible until she made a choice, and then those destinies altered again, presenting a thousand upon a thousand upon a thousand different outcomes, beginning the cycle anew.
But perhaps—in all those millions and billions of possibilities—there was one even I had missed.
As she told me her plan, I was beginning to think that maybe we had all missed something. That maybe this witch was even more powerful, even more magnificent, even more incomprehensible than any of us could have predicted.
“So where do I fit in, necromancer?” I asked, very curious indeed about my role in this new potential outcome.
“Once Asher’s soul is completely inside me,” she said, “I need you to pull his body free of the devil’s trap. Then, you’ll have to Hoover his soul back out of me, just like you did with Sophie’s.”
“Hoover?”
“Suck it out, or whatever you call it.”
“Ah. Extract.”
“Yes, that. You’ll have to extract it from me and put it back inside him. But not until he’s out of the trap. Okay?”
