“Not sure the devil had much to do with it,” she says, “but it’s good to be back just the same.”
“What happened?” he asks, setting her on her feet. “One minute you were here, and then the portal opened up and Verrick just… Fuck, West. We were going out of our minds.”
“Just another failed attempt by the dark-fae king to claim what isn’t his.” Draegan runs a protective hand over West’s head. “He’ll be back for more, no doubt, assuming he hasn’t already tried.”
“All’s been quiet here,” Auggie says, casting a quick glance at me and Jude. “Too quiet.”
“Where are the witches?” West asks. “I’ve got a few theories I’d like to run by them about Verrick’s magic.”
“They’ve been sequestered upstairs with your notes on the Codex,” Auggie says. “Trying to see if they could crack the mystery of Verrick’s portals. Oh, Laney found this under the sofa. Gave it to me for safekeeping.”
He hands West her amulet.
“Thank the goddess.” She presses it to her chest, the magic glowing bright at her touch. “Have you—”
“Westlyn! Oh, am I ever glad to see you, child.” Tatiana descends the stairs, Laney and Fleur behind her, their arms laden with candles and jars of herbs and the stacks of parchment they’ve been using to work through West’s translations of the Codex. “We’ve unlocked the Spell of Unmaking. We haven’t been able to open the Codex without you, but your notes were immensely helpful.”
West nods, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Verrick told us the Spell of Unmaking won’t work against the curse—no spell will.”
She tells the group about the tether. The so-called loophole. The utter futility of it all.
It was always a long shot, but still. Hearing confirmation that the Spell of Unmaking won’t actually set us free…
Fuck. If I could actually move right now, I’d probably punch something.
Fleur sets down her bottles and jars on the closest table and takes a seat, nodding for West and the other witches to join her.
“We came to the same conclusion, unfortunately,” Fleur says gently. “The gargoyles’ curse isn’t just of dark-fae making. Parts of it were forged in hell, then fused together with Wintermoon magic, all woven in with Verrick’s cruelty and malice. With his hatred for the men he holds responsible for killing fae soldiers during the war.”
“If you tried to use the Spell of Unmaking to break the curse,” Laney explains, “it might destroy the fae magic, but it wouldn’t touch the demon magic. The whole thing would become completely unstable, very likely resulting in magical side effects even worse than the curse itself.”
“What sort of side effects?” West asks, but I already know the answer to that question.
The magic used to forge the curse is so dark, destabilizing it can only result in more darkness. Total insanity, a complete disconnect from reality. An irreversible, magically-induced coma. Eternal damnation in the most terrifying parts of hell. A plethora of other things I can’t even think about without feeling sick.
Laney confirms all of this for West, but then her eyes brighten. She reaches across the table and takes West’s hands, giving them an encouraging squeeze. “However, we’re pretty sure we’ve discovered adifferentapplication for the spell.”
“Tell me,” West gasps.
“Reversing whatever magic locked the gargoyles in stone.”
“But.. What?” West is suddenly on her feet, pacing before us. “Isn’t that all part of the same curse?”
“Yes and no,” Tatiana says. “While turning to stone may be the final outcome of the curse in the long run, the fact that both gargoyles’ transformations coincided with an appearance from Verrick suggests that these particular turnings arenota result of the curse, but of a direct magical attack.”
“And because the attack is dark-fae made,” West says, her turquoise eyes glimmering with new hope, “a dark-fae Spell of Unmaking can reverse it. Goddess, that’s… that’s good news!Excellentnews!”
The other witches nod, and Draegan and Auggie draw close, a cautious hope filling their eyes as well.
West reaches up to stroke the edge of my stone wing. “I assume you haven’t tested it yet?”
“We were short one key ingredient.” Tatiana hands Westlyn a kitchen knife. “The spell requires dark-fae blood.”
* * *
Westlyn and the witches spend the next hour talking through the planned ritual and gathering supplies for the spell—more herbs and dried plants from the stores in the basement, bottles of oils, salt, ash from the hearth, enough candles to light up half the realm. I’m not even sure what else they collect—they come and go up and down stairs and in and out of closets so quickly, it’s all a blur.
Draegan is on guard outside, making regular flyovers, and Auggie remains stationed at the bar, strapped with swords and daggers from their supply run, ready for another surprise attack from our illustrious dark-fae king.
