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After that, I’m incapable of any more conversation, even the simplest of pleas. Somehow, I stay conscious, though that may be more a curse than a blessing.
I may never use my magic these days, but there’s something comforting about its presence. It’s a part of who I am. Losing it will be like losing a sense. Already, the colours of the night seem less sharp. I’m less connected to everything and everyone around me. Apart from Gabriel, who I’m utterly aware of, almost as though he’s a part of me.
I don’t know how long it goes on. The pain and the unreality blur time. But eventually, he taps his fingers again and removes his hand, while keeping me supported.
“Done. That half of the debt is repaid. Can you stand?”
I nod, a tiny, weak movement that’s all I can manage. He releases me, and I slump to the floor, showing my claim to be a lie.
He reaches out an arm. “Let me help get you home.”
I huddle into myself on the ground. “You got what you came for. Now leave me alone.” I hesitate as an awful thought strikes me. “Unless you’re planning to claim the other half of the bargain tonight, too.”
“Not tonight. But that part of the lien holds.”
I don’t reply. The pain’s fading rapidly, but the deeper, psychological agony of being cut off from the magic in the air is hurting more by the minute.
He disappears into thin air, leaving me a broken wreck on the ground.
* * *
As always, I wake up sweating, with my pulse racing like the dream was real.
I turn on the bedside light and take some slow, deep breaths. Gabriel has made no attempt to claim on the lien in six years. To the best of my knowledge, he never visits London. I’m careful not to use my magic, but the odd slip-up never seems to result in disaster. Though maybe he’s just biding his time. Hiding away down here is one thing. Returning home to Mannith would be quite another.
TWO
LONDON—PRESENT DAY
The next morning’s depressingly overcast for late June, which doesn’t help my state of mind. Everyone always claims that English summers were warmer when they were a child, but in my case, thanks to the effect the Dome had on Mannith, it’s objectively true.
As I walk to work, the questions keep coming. What the hell do my parents want? Why would they send the London Coven after me, rather than getting in touch themselves? And how dare those stuck-up southern witches trick me into going on a date and letting my guard down?
Nonetheless, after a few minutes, the exercise, the river views, and some Lana Del Rey on my iPhone start to push my worry and anger into the background. At least there don’t seem to have been any obvious repercussions from panicking, using magic, and triggering the lien mark. I just need to be careful not to do it again any time soon.
I stop at my favourite little coffee shop en route and get a flat white to take away. Caffeine’s probably not a great idea when I’m this on edge, but I need a treat, and decaf is a sin.
By the time I’m crossing Waterloo Bridge, I’m feeling almost cheerful, at least on the surface, until a phone call cuts off my music. A glance at the screen shows it’s my mother.
I walk to the side of the bridge, both to get out of people’s way and so I can ground myself—physically by holding onto the side, emotionally by watching the river ebb and flow.
“Hi, Mum.” I make my voice as cheery as humanly possible.
“Hopefully Lavinia’s man told you that we need you to come and stay for a few weeks,” she announces, with no preamble or any hint that I might refuse.
My hand tightens on the bridge. “You know I can’t. And I can’t believe you sent someone to track me down.”
Mum’s voice is firm. “I thought it might be harder for you to ignore a stranger in person than one of us on the phone. But that’s not important. Brendan needs you.”
I glance down at my Fitbit. It tells me my heartrate is in the cardio zone, despite the fact I’m standing utterly still.
“Brendan? What’s he done now? And what’s so bad that he can’t sort it out himself with the usual magic and charm?”
My oldest brother is brilliant. He’s also a bloody liability.
“He’s been charged with the murder of Niall Thornber.”
My vision blurs. Niall is Gabriel’s father. The head of the Thornber family. My family’s only rivals. “You have got to be kidding me. Did he do it?”
