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But Vanore held on tight and pressed my thumb to her mouth, sticking it into her mouth, sucking on my blood.
My brain seized up at what was happening, and my free hand flew to my knife.
Her tongue rolled over my flesh, and I withdrew my arm hard, my finger popping out of her mouth. I stared at the bloody cut. “What is wrong with you? Who does that?” Panic curled deep in my gut. “T-This wasn’t part of the deal.”
I retreated until my legs hit the side to the sofa, and I gripped the knife still on my belt. What could I do? Stab her before she gave me a solution to finish the guardian?
She laughed and licked the drop of crimson from her lips. “Need to track you for me payment. And child, whoever put that spell on you was serious. It’s tangled with your soul, girl. Ain’t something anyone can remove but the caster.”
My breaths froze in my chest and it took several tries to find them again. “You can sense the type of spell it is? Who did it?” I flirted with the idea of this being my salvation. A way to rid myself of the hex. A smile played at the corners of my lips as a weight lifted off my shoulders.
I turned sideways and wriggled the bag on my back, holding up my long hair with one hand. “Stupid strands won’t stop growing, and I can’t cut them. Trust me; I tried everything, even fire. So please tell me everything you know to break the curse.” The pleading in my voice made me cringe.
A flicker of hope sprung through me, and I reached out, my fingers extended for her arm. I clutched on to her as if my life depended on it.
“Elliana, me child.” She clasped my wrist the way my dad used to hold on to my hands when I’d get scared each time we went out on a heist. But the witch’s eyes carried sorrow, and it left me breathless.
“I ain’t got such insight—only that there’s darkness in your blood, the magic prickling me tongue, and its connection to your soul. Whoever did this to you had no intention of ever releasing you. I’m sorry. All I can do is help you with the stone guard and a temporary solution to your hair problems. Pray to the Goddess that my incantation frees you, and the witch responsible will leave you alone, but magic lays inside you. And since I don’t understand its purpose, I can’t assist you without endangering your life.”
My legs refused to hold me, and I sank onto the couch.
You have no time to get soft. Get up.
My insides stung at hearing the absoluteness of my predicament. What if this spell notified the witch who’d cursed me? Would she return and lock me up again if I destroyed the gargoyle?
“Sorry, child. But your best bet is to find who cast this spell on you.”
I nodded and climbed to my feet. This wasn’t the time to fall apart.
“Now, as part of our bargain,” the witch continued, “I’ll take payment in ten installments as we agreed and will come to you every full moon to collect. If you fail to pay, I will slit the veins on your arms and use the blood to warm me rum. Death won’t allow you to escape.” She smiled her toothy grin and gone was the sympathy. Just like everyone my dad had dealt with, Vanore was in this for herself. I was a means to getting what she wanted. Nothing more.
I gasped but summoned my courage and lifted my chin. “Deal. Now tell me how to activate the herbs you gave me.”
“Good girl. First”—she counted on her fingers—“you must find an animal for the spell.”
I stiffened. “I’m not killing an animal.”
“Hush, girl.” She waved a hand between us as if I were a pesky gnat. “No killing required. Just do as I say. Second, best you do the incantation outdoors beneath the moon.”
“Okay, well, can I do it now? I saw a few cats outside.”
“No.” Her voice rose. “This must be done where your guard lives, as the magic on you both will be strongest there. Soak the herbs I gave you in water for you and the animal to use together. But first, let the concoction sit in the moonlight for a short while, then—”
A sudden crashing explosion detonated behind me, shards of wood pinging against my back and legs.
I shuddered on the spot, both the witch and me twisting toward the entrance in unison. The smashed door lay scattered around our feet.
The gargoyle stood there. My prison guard.
A strangled cry pressed on my throat and my feet glued to the rug.
His shoulders pushed past the edges of the doorway. Three long strides and he marched into the room.
He found you. Run. Run. Run.
“Bloody hell!” Vanore stammered.
Dread coiled in my chest and clung to my ribs. I dragged Vanore backward by a hand through the house. “The spell. What’re the words?” I couldn’t pull my gaze from the gargoyle made of rock, standing still for those few moments as if he had frozen in place. Stones the size of my palm covered his body, allowing his movement. His head was a boulder with empty eyes, a hooked nose, and buckled mouth. Oversized ears unnaturally pivoted, listening for anyone sneaking up on him. He stared down at me in the dim light with a sadistic grin, as if any second now the hatred in his expression would burst forth.
