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And that just plain sucked.
True to his word,Dad had decided to work on my magic. Just not on the roof. He and Colby had used the tablet to virtually scout a field outside of town. Might as well be productive while we waited to see if the director took the bait. The field putdistance between us and potential casualties if things took a turn for the worse with our trap, or my magic.
Dad had also decided the rural location wouldn’t screamtrapthe way the warehouse district or a nice, abandoned building strung with floor-to-ceiling cobwebs and spiced with broken windows might.
“I’m going to cast a ward to conceal us from passersby.” Dad walked a perfect circle with a circumference of twenty feet or so using salt as a marker. “That should give us plenty of room.”
Based on all the times Clay had attempted to part me from the Hunk, I kept my expectations low.
As Dad’s magic domed over our heads, and the outside world took on the wavy quality of antique glass, the familiar prickle of magic stung my palms like limbs slowly waking after they had fallen asleep.
“I’ve been studying the flow of your ambient magic since Lake Pontchartrain. Your mother has been cross-referencing my notes and doing her own research while she’s been with Meg.”
“So that’s why the contract is taking so long. I figured they were just hanging out.”
Given how long it had been since they spent time with one another, I wouldn’t have blamed them.
“Until you’re free of this blight, your mother won’t be ‘hanging out,’ and neither will Meg. The prognosis from Proctor, and Asa’s grandmother, has led us to believe we have six months or less. The Hunk will kill you if we don’t break its hold over you, and it won’t stop trying until it succeeds.”
“Six months?” I rubbed my hands up my arms. “That’s…not great.”
This was what ignoring my problems got me. They hadn’t gone away. I had just given them more time to plot against me.
“Between the three of us, we have a theory of where the artifact planted roots in you.” He meshed his fingers. “The issueis the depth they’ve grown around the core of your power. There are multiple anchor points, solidifying its hold over you.”
“You can still read my magic, even with me bound?”
“That’s what gave me the idea for this, actually, but I’ve been studying you for some time.”
“Okay?”
“Your magic is strong, and it fills you to the brink. Think of it as a river. Vast. Deep. But the binding dams up that energy until the water runs dry. Except the Hunk is chipping away at the dam, and so does Colby. There are cracks spreading, and moisture is leaking, faster and faster. The places with the worst damage are the seven chakra points, where the Hunk is trying its hardest to form permanent tethers.”
“And it’s easier to track one piddly stream at a time than it is a river full of tributaries.”
“Exactly.”
“I assume since you warned me about the multiple anchor points, this is going to hurt.”
“Yes.” His amusement waned. “It will feel as if someone is trying to rip the magic from your body.”
“Because that’s what’s happening.” I winced. “Gotcha.”
“We don’t have to do this.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “We can try other methods first.”
“Other methods haven’t worked so far.” I shook out my hands. “I’m ready. Really. I can handle it.”
The now-familiar expression of intense study he wore while following the threads of complex spells settled over his features. I could tell when he quit seeing me and the magic revealed itself to him.
Much as we had done at the cabin where the director had fled, he reached out and hooked his fingers in the air. His hand was six inches from my heart. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to learn that was the seat of the infection.
“I’m sorry,” he exhaled, a glimmer in his eyes.
And then he yanked.
A lurch in my chest, a thud in my ears, and my eyes rolled back in my head.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
