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I hesitate and eye the best path to the center before I tiptoe forward, seeking out clean sections of wood flooring. Fielder keeps his hand in mine, offering some support, and Ezra reaches for me on the other side, both of them holding on to me until I’m settled in the middle.
Then the five of them take up their spots around me, standing evenly spaced apart. The candles that Ezra placed on the inner circle flare to life and Hardin winks at me when I jerk in surprise.Fuck.I’d forgotten he had access to fire. I don’t even know how that is the case.
To cover the flinch, I ask, “What are you going to burn?”
Ezra answers, pointing out three metal bowls at my feet. “Ague, barley, betel nut, true unicorn root for the protections. Sanicle, primrose, cherry bark and poke root for the tracking spell. Mint, marshmallow root and orris root club for communication. Witches burr and carnation to enhance the potency of all the others.”
“It’s worth mentioning that not all the items are going to burn, so don’t think that the spells didn’t work when they don’t ignite,” Fielder adds.
“You’ll need to breathe in the smoke when it comes to you, Ro. So don’t bat it away or anything.”
I roll my eyes at Gideon’s comment, but ask, “and I don’t need to do anything but not fight the magic and stand here?”
“Exactly.”
I clap my hands together and nod. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Merritt stamps her foot. “One of you asses better tell her the rest of it.”
I twist to look at her. “The rest of what?”
Fielder glares at Merritt, but he reaches out to pull my attention to him. “It might hurt just the slightest bit when the protections snap into place.”
Realization dawns. “That’s why you told me not to fight it?”
“Yes, but we didn’t want you to be nervous about that.” He doesn’t sound even remotely apologetic.
“Which is why we didn’t say anything,” Hardin adds.
I turn in a circle and glare at each of them as they build an excuse for leaving out some really important information together. “Is that everything?”
“You might end up with some markings,” Gideon causally throws out there.
“Markings?”
“Some spells leave a permanent mark on your skin for as long as the spell is active.”
I nod. “Which would be for the indefinite future.” They nod their agreement. “I’m not going to end up with like a teardrop tattoo or a snake on my neck, right?”
They laugh, relaxing as I crack a joke. Like they thought I might fight them on this now that I know all the facts. I lift a shoulder. “I kind of figured it would leave a mark. Just as long as it’s not in any place that’s easily visible. I don’t want to explain to my mom or my subscribers why I suddenly have a tattoo.”
They hesitate. “We can’t guarantee where it’ll end up.”
I run a weary hand down my face. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
Thirteen
Fielder doesn’t give me a chance to change my mind. He begins chanting right away, words I can’t recognize.
The others join in, the low hum of their voices filling the room along with their power. It feels breakable. What they’re doing, like one wrong move from me could shatter the spell. I stay as still as possible as magic swells around me, coats my body. I feel it sticking in some places more than others. My ears and temples, my chest and my feet. Based on that, I can guess where each spell is focused. So when the magic on my chest starts to burn, I breathe through it, understanding that the pain is temporary and expected.
Their chanting grows louder. I don’t know if it’s actually louder or if the magic is amplifying it somehow, if being in the center of them makes it feel likemore.Pain pricks the bottom of my feet and a headache builds around my temples and I squeeze my hands into fists, and clench my teeth.
Is this right? Is this supposed to happen? Is it supposed to hurt this much? Because this is a hell of a lot more than just the slightest bit that they’d warn me about. My body sways with a combination of pain and the chanting, like it can’t stay still no matter how much I want it to.
Panic claws at me as the pain grows. My eyes snap closed, tears squeezing out of my lids. One of them, I don’t know who, falters just the slightest bit, stumbling over the words, before they pick up again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.This isn’t right, something is wrong.
