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Every villain has their origin story.
When he stands in front of me and hovers a hand over my shoulder, my heart soars with triumph.
The Boogie Man has just crossed the magical boundary, and the only way he’ll get inside this cottage again is with an invitation.
I sweep past him, through the barrier, and back toward the front door.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Sending you back where you belong.”
I turn back toward the garden path to find him standing five feet away with his hands pressed on the invisible barrier.
His expression goes blank. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“If you were once a human and now look like an Unseelie faerie, then you probably made a bargain with one,” I say. “Now, I just need to open up a portal to your realm.”
“Let me in,” he growls, his eyes flashing.
I slam the door shut, continue to the dining table, and set down the paper.
If the Boogie Man hadn’t found a way into my bed, I might have waited a few days to build up the reserves of blood to perform the banishment spell. Now, I’ll just have to make do with what’s in my veins.
A dark figure lurks on the other side of the window, his arms waving, his wings outstretched.
Ignoring him, I read through the torn parchment three times before starting. The banishment spell requires half a gallon of blood as well as the victim’s bodily fluids.
My gaze drops down to the cum drying on my belly, and I grimace. After scraping it off with the blunt edge of a knife, I put it into a mixing bowl and cut my wrist.
Fortunately, my crappy levels of power allow me to move small amounts of liquid, so filling the bowl only takes ten minutes. I place a bandage over the wound as soon as I bleed out the required amount.
“Alienor!” The Boogie Man roars from outside.
I dip my fingers into the blood-and-semen mixture and draw out some symbols on the dining table.
This branch of magic is forbidden for a reason. Anyone can use their life force to power an enchantment as long as they can follow the instructions. It requires no talent, no training, and no commitment to law or ethics.
Then I recite the incantation.
The air becomes thick with magic, making all the fine hairs on my skin stand on end. It’s like being caught in a whirlwind of static electricity that intensifies with each passing breath.
I turn toward the window, where a circle of glowing chamomile flowers surrounds the Boogie Man. They dance around him, lifting his long hair off his shoulders.
“Alienor,” he says, his voice hoarse. “What have you done?”
“I’m tired of you ruining my life,” I say.
The flowers form a cocoon around his body, encasing his huge wingspan.
My breath quickens.
It’s really happening.
The magic is really sending him back.
The air goes still for a second, and the static electricity stops.
I hold my breath, my gaze fixed on the glowing sphere.
