And I thought of Liam, guiding me through the strange, dark, beautiful landscape of my magic. My soul.
His words came back to me now, echoing from another time, after another man had tried to hurt me—Travis, the man from the alley. The man who’d killed Bean.
The man’s blood is literally on your hands, Liam had said, trying to stop me from trapping Travis’s soul in the Shadowlands.
I knew what I had to do now, and I knew what it would cost me.
But when this particular tower crumbled to the ground, if I could give the people I cared about a fighting chance at surviving the fall, it would be worth the price.
Jonathan was coming too, confused and wobbly as he got to his feet. “What… What’s happening?”
I chanced a final glance at Asher.
I knew he didn’t want me to go through with this, but I also knew he’d back me up, no matter what. I offered him one last blazing smile, and he returned it with a crooked smirk and a wink I felt all the way down in my bones.
Then, he slumped forward, groaning in fake pain.
Jonathan stumbled over to the gate.
“No more bullshit, witch,” he hissed, and again I thought of Travis. Of Liam’s advice.
The combination of blood and soul is like a magical key to a very ancient, very complicated lock. In possession of both, Shadowborn have the ability to banish the souls of the living to the Shadowrealm.
At the time, he was trying to save me from making a grave mistake.
Now, those words were my saving grace.
“I… I’m sorry, Jonathan,” I said, forcing a weakness into my voice that sounded pathetic, even to me. I lowered my head, as if I were ashamed and exhausted. “I can’t… I can’t fix him.”
“Then I guess he dies.”
“Please,” I whispered, getting down on my knees. “I’m begging you. Let him go.”
“And give up my leverage? I think not.”
“You don’t need leverage. I don’t want to play this game anymore. You’ve killed most of my friends. Destroyed my home. My mother’s dead, I have no family. Everyone I’ve ever loved is just… just gone.” I met his eyes, channeling all of my hatred, my anger, my grief into a look of complete and utter resignation. “I’m done.”
He considered my words, his face softening. “In some ways, I’m sorry to hear that, Rayanne. I was looking forward to playing the game a bit longer.” His grimace took over once again, his mouth crooked, his eyelid twitching. “In other ways, time is of the essence.”
“Jonathan,” I said, releasing a weary sigh. “I’m spent. I’ve got nothing left. So if you have a price, name it and let’s end this.”
He unlocked the bars and swung open the gate, already greedy and dumb at the thought of getting his hands on my magic.
“I want all of it,” he said, leaning against the stone wall. “The power to raise the dead, to take souls… hell, Rayanne, if you’ve got the power to snap your fingers and make a dollar bill appear in your pocket, I want that, too.”
At his words, the indigo flames ignited, swirling gently across my palms, and I gasped in horror as though he were responsible for the magic rather than me.
His eyes widened eagerly. He was practically salivating.
“I hate you,” I whispered, letting a tear slide down my cheek.
“Unfortunate, yet irrelevant.”
I held my palms out in front of me and lowered my eyes, certain the deception in my gaze shone as bright as the moon.
The anticipation.
Thethrill.
