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He seems to feel it too, this possibility, and something shifts in the air around us as the room falls silent.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I clear my throat as I rise from my seat.
Azrael reaches out as if to halt me, his eyes filled with concern.
“I’ll just be upstairs,” I tell him. “It won’t take long.”
He doesn’t want to let me go alone, and I wonder if he can sense my plans. If he can feel me erecting a wall between us, trying to salvage what I have left of myself before it’s too late.
“Do you need company?” Raven calls after me as I head for the stairs.
“No.” I force a smile. “I’m okay, thanks.”
They watch me go, and I’m grateful once I’m out of sight, so I can tear off the mask of indifference I’ve been wearing all day.
I trudge up to the familiar room overflowing with books, greenery, apothecary cabinets, and everything required to do magic. When I step inside, it looks the same as it’s always been. Well-loved and well-lived in. But it feels different today, and I can’t tell if it’s the room that’s changed since I last visited or me.
With a deep breath to steel myself, I glance behind me to make sure I’m alone and then head for Celeste’s altar. Beneath it, in an ancient trunk, I find exactly what I’m looking for. The book of spells has been passed down from generation to generation of Wildblood women. It’s a book we are yet to inherit or dabble with until Celeste deems that we are ready.
She wouldn’t like that I’m going behind her back like this, but I don’t see any other choice. She asked me not to abandon hope, but she couldn’t possibly understand what it is she’s asking of me.
Dust particles filter into the air as I crack open the weathered binding, flipping through the pages until I find what I’m after.
Spell to Dissolve Love and Guard Yourself Energetically
My eyes catch on that four-letter word, and I swallow involuntarily. Love seems… like a strong sentiment, particularly when I don’t know how to convey my feelings toward Azrael. All I know is I want them to stop. I want to stop feeling altogether so I never have to know the pain I fear he will bring me.
Cast this spell with caution, and only if you are certain you are ready to permanently sever this connection. Once done, it cannot be undone.
I read the inscription scribbled at the top, wondering if it was Nan or another of my ancestors who wrote the warning. And for a moment, I question myself all over again. Is this the right thing? Do I want Azrael to sever all emotional ties with me if they really do exist?
I close my eyes, thinking of the outcome I can’t stop playing on repeat in my mind. Him carrying my limp corpse to that altar, offering me up to the demon angel like I’m nothing. Like I never was. Whatever his feelings for me may be, they won’t change the outcome. Salomé will ensure that even if it’s the last thing she does. And if I’m doomed to die at either of their hands, I can’t allow myself to feel more for him than I already do.
Tears prick my eyes as I read through the spell quickly, and before I lose my courage, I start gathering the things I need from around the room.
I light a white candle and then some Palo Santo, smudging the room and clearing away residual energy. I need a clean slate for this spell. I need it to work.
With trembling fingers, I scribble Azrael’s full name onto a piece of paper and then hold it above the flame, preparing myself to speak the words into existence. The letting go of whatever it is we may have. The severance, a final blade through the threads of whatever it truly is that has bound us together.
Don’t.
As I dip the paper nearer to the flame, the word comes to me, sharp and filled with warning. I halt abruptly, fingers clenching, lips parting as I listen for Elizabeth.
Don’t do it, Willow.
Her voice is clear, clearer than it’s ever been.
“Why?” I whisper.
He is the chosen one.
She repeats the same thing she told me on our wedding day. But the passage of time hasn’t made it any clearer for me.
“I don’t know what that means,” I grit out. “Tell me what it means.”
“It means you can’t do this,” Nan says from behind me.
I wheel around, equally shocked and humiliated to be caught in the act. But her face is absent of the reprimand I expected to find; rather, there is only understanding and empathy in her expression.
“Yes, I can,” I argue, but my voice wavers even as I say it.
