Page 94 of Too Hexed to Handle

‘You know it, don’t you?’ I say softly. ‘You know I’m not the one you should be hurting.’

Her eyes snap to meet mine. They’re clouded in darkness; her pupils huge and dilated. ‘You’re wrong. He’s all I have. He’s all I ever had. I have to keep him forever.’

‘Eira –’

Her final wraith swells before I can finish my sentence, growing taller, and taller, and taller. My heart tumbles. It stretches upwards, barely able to be contained by the room, bathing us in near black. Any trace of human form has vanished, the shadows now wolf-shaped if anything, with a triangular snout that snaps and snarls as its claws scrape the floor. Lightning crackles within it. Flashes of white fill the darkness, while a wind lifts the ends of my hair. The emerald above our head groans.

Gritting my teeth, I reach for all the love I channelled from Astin and let it burst. My wraiths combine to form one, blasting upwards like a shooting star, a stream of gold hurtling towards the gaping hole that thing calls a mouth.

Mine might be smaller, but its fast, and powerful, punching straight into the shadow-wolf’s jaw, eliciting a howl that makes the floor tremble. Its head crunches against the ceiling, and emerald dust rains down on us. My wraith morphs into its own animal shape – a golden bird, complete with a blazing tail of flames and talons wider than my head.

Its talons slice though the wolf’s middle, and wisps of rotten shadow spill from its insides, dripping bloody black splatters across the floor. The wolf shrieks and writhes, but refuses to give in, its mouth widening to reveal freshly formed teeth. Eira claps her hands together and it sinks those fangs into my bird’s throat.

The impact is as though it were on mine.

I cry out, slapping my hand to my neck, and the light in the room fades ever so slightly. No. I’m running out of magic, but I refuse to give in, pushing everything I have into my wraith. It wrenches free before they clash again, tumbling over and over, light and dark, black and gold, energy spitting out from between them.

‘Eira,’ I try again, shouting to be overheard over the snapping of jaws and enraged yelps of pain. ‘Listen to me. I used to think love was something you could force. That I could tell two people they belonged together and that would be enough for magic to happen. But love doesn’t work that way. Love is –’

My stomach flips as I catch movement in the corner of my eye: Astin, moving at last, rising to his feet, reunited with his knife.

‘It’s . . . going along with some hare-brained plan to make your guests so cold they have to snuggle, although you think it’s ridiculous. It’s holding your hand when you cry in the dark. It’s giving up something they want in order to help you, even if it means going against everything they believe, or nearly getting themselves killed on a mountain. It’s accepting them as they are. Choosing them despite the ways they drive you nuts. Damian might say he’ll love you once you’ve pleased him in some way, but when has he proven that might be true? What actions has he taken to show that? When he lied to you about what his party was for? When he sent us out in search of a potion, knowing it might kill you? Don’t you think you deserve better?’

My bird plunges its talons straight into the space where the wolf’s heart should be. Darkness streams from above, staining Eira’s cheeks black like corrupted tears. The wolf shrinks in size, lightning sparking out, shadows turning from black to grey, and the room floods with light once more. My bird glows brighter as Astin finds my side, lacing his hand through mine.

Eira’s chin wobbles.

‘Don’t listen to her,’ Damian says.

‘There has to be a part of you that knows I’m right. You’ve been fighting for him this whole time, but when has he ever fought for you?’

Eira looks at him, then back at me. Her wolf deflates, turning into human-shaped mist that’s fragile enough to be waved away.

‘Join us,’ I urge her. ‘He doesn’t have to control you any more.’

Her voice is small when she answers. ‘But how will I make him love me?’

‘You can’t,’ I say softly.

Her whole being trembles, but she makes no move to stand at our side, her gaze dropping to the floor, as though terrified of the repercussions of failing Damian. Damian, for his part, is fiddling with his gloves, which doesn’t bode well for anyone. His rage burns hotter than the bird hovering over my head.

And then our eyes lock, and, just like with the girl in the maze, I finally sense what hex I gave him.

‘Your stomach pain,’ I whisper. ‘It happens every time you lie.’ I press my lips together to hide my laugh. Oh, he must be hating this. It’s his favourite activity.

‘Enough,’ he says, slamming his hand against the table. ‘Eira, finish her.’

‘No. Eira, ask him a question. One he can’t dodge with a half-truth. Let’s see if I’m right.’

Damian takes a step forward, but her wraith swoops between them, blocking his path.

‘Eira. Come along,’ he says. ‘We’re so close to getting everything we wanted.’

But Eira cocks her head, and for once doesn’t reach for his outstretched hand. Instead, she stares as it, as though unsure whether it offers liberation or a trap. ‘And what is it you want, Damian? Honestly.’

‘To rule this city with you at my side.’ His hand twitches, as though he’s fighting the urge to press it to his stomach. ‘I just need your help to do it.’

Sweat beads on his brow.