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I knelt on one knee—wincing as my newly scraped thigh protested the movement—and then reached out, but didn’t quite touch, the spark.
I didn’t have to, not to understand exactly what it was.
The energy that rolled off it might be dying, but it nevertheless told me what it was and where it had come from.
This ember was a piece of the soucouyant.
While my spell hadn’t ensnared her, that last, desperate flick of energy I’d sent spiraling after her had caught her. Maybe not enough to capture, but certainly enough to tear a small piece of essence from her body.
But if I didn’t immediately do something to protect it—to somehow keep it alive—then we might just lose our one and only means of tracking the soucouyant down.
I’d never been taught the sort of spell needed to contain something like this, but I had witnessed it being done—and very recently. Eli had done exactly that when he’d drawn together the filaments of a dark sorcerer’s essence, and then contained them in a small, spellbound container. I’d memorized the spell, but whether I’d actually be capable of reproducing it, I had no idea.
I took a deep breath and then created a protection circle around the ember, using both the holy water and a spell. Once inside the circle, I activated the spell and sat cross-legged on the ground.
I glanced up at the wisp. “I’m about to weave a spell to contain this remnant of a dark one. It shouldn’t affect you, but, just in case, it might be wise if you put some distance between us.”
The wisp immediately retreated to the trees but didn’t totally disappear. I somehow felt safer, even though a wisp wasn’t in any way capable of defending me if someone or something decided to attack.
I grabbed the end of my T-shirt and quickly dried out the inside of one the small bottles that had contained the holy water, and then did the same with the cork. After another deep breath to center my energy, I closed my eyes and mentally crossed fingers, toes, and all things in-between that I remembered the spell correctly. Then I began. Energy immediately stirred around me, thin threads that gleamed in the darkness as they gathered pace and power—something I could see despite the fact my eyes remained closed. As the filaments and the spell gained momentum, the tiny ember began to twist and turn, as if fighting the pull of my magic. The glowing threads continued to gather, until a fist-sized sphere was formed. I spelled on, not entirely sure I was doing it right but not really caring if the end result was the same.
The ember was lifted from the ground. I carefully wrapped the sphere around it, then picked up the bottle and gently guided the sphere inside. Once the ember was contained, I corked the bottle and then wound the remaining threads of my magic around it to seal and protect it.
It was done.
I closed off the spell and took a deep, shuddering breath that did little to ease the weariness that washed through me or the growing ache in my head. But that was to be expected; new spells always drained far more from you than ones in regular use. And I couldn’t help but seriously hope this sort of containment spell was not one I needed to repeat too often.
I opened my eyes. Inside the small bottle, sitting in the middle of the constantly revolving filaments of my magic, was the small piece of the soucouyant. I’d successfully contained it; now all I had to do was hope the spell could keep the ember alive long enough to
use it as a tracker.
I quickly dissolved the protection spell, but even that small task had the ache in my head intensifying. And, unfortunately, every other part of my body now seemed intent on going along for the ride.
I slowly pushed to my feet, biting my lip against the groan that surged up my throat. The wisp pulsed and spun its light forward, lighting my way as I slowly—wearily—made my way back up the slope. When we neared the spot where it had met me, I stopped and said, “Thank you for the assistance tonight, my friend. I wouldn’t have found this ember if not for you.”
The wisp spun again, and then, with little fanfare, fled into the trees. Leaving me alone but not without light—the tangled threads of the spell around the glass bottle were emitting just enough to see by.
Tala glanced up as I emerged out of the trees. “What the hell happened? You look like shit.”
“That’s probably because I feel like it.”
Amusement flared briefly in her eyes. “Who were you talking to in the trees?”
“A wisp.”
Duke glanced around sharply. “A what?”
“She means ghost candle,” Tala said. “I had no idea there were any in this area, let alone them being able to understand conversation.”
“Wisps are spirits,” I said. “We may not know their language, but they can certainly understand ours. Which is why I always recommend you be polite if you ever come across one.”
“Suggesting those led astray weren’t?” Duke said, disbelief evident.
“More than likely.” I raised the small bottle. “It led me to this—a means of hopefully tracking down the soucouyant. But we’ll need to get Monty here, and pronto, because I’m not sure my magic is strong enough to keep this ember alive long.”
Tala grunted. “He’s actually on his way here—and rather pissed that he missed out on the action, from what I can gather.”
“He’s already been flamed once. I would have thought that’d be enough.”
