Chapter 28
Ringing silence presses in on me. The magic and iron are too thick around my haven to permit a whisper of sound to slip through.
The flame that always burns in the enchanted fireplace warms my sweat-chilled body.
If I close my eyes, I can pretend that it’s a normal day and I came down here to work on a particularly dangerous translation with a glass of wine.
My fingers tighten around the small lump in my arms. I let out a long, shivering exhale. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.”
Jinx blinks back slowly.
The armchairs screech as I drag them farther back. I gingerly lay Jinx out on the cushion and stroke a slow hand through the matted fur. Bony ribs expand and contract with a wheezing, purring cough. I plant a kiss on her fluffy head and step back.
I strip off my clothes hastily and toss them haphazardly in the corner. My curse scar is still pink and puckered and I trace the way it loops under my left breast before dropping my hand.
Crossing the space, I yank open my desk drawer and swallow back the welling emotions at the sight of Valen’s engagement ring hidden in a blue velvet box.
With a clammy hand, I move it to the side.
The silver blade I keep in my desk drawer glints in the firelight.
I take it and a shard of pure limestone in hand and slam the drawer shut.
The vault is deep, perfect for circle drawing.
My feet are whisper-silent on the polished slate floor.
Placing the blade in the center of the room as a marker, I turn to my bookshelf.
I approach it with grim determination and slide out my precious grimoire.
The extension of my own magic threads that I used for the binding reaches for me.
I hold the book tightly between both palms and breathe its dry scent deep into my lungs.
The burned raw ache in my chest pangs, the fissure in my soul solidifying.
My lips graze the leather, eyes fluttering.
But then I feel it. The corruption. The weight of the curse.
It indeed took advantage of my time away and saturated my Entropy Thread until the overly sweet flavor of dark magic sticks to the back of my throat.
The thread writhes, like a parasite within my heart.
Fear nearly robs me of logic, the book trembling in my hands.
My teeth click, eyes snapping open. I don’t have much time.
The leather creaks when I open it. The pages flutter until the inked Alasdair glares at me like he knows what I’m about to do. A shiver ripples up my spine, the hair on my arms standing on end.
My finger slide along the yellowed pages, the paper crunching lightly when it shifts. The page flips and I study the pentagram.
I read my notes three times and consider my next step. “I’m not sure what to do, Jinx. I wanted to feed the curse one last time before breaking it to weaken my Entropy until both threads are back in balance, but my Creation is so weak that I’d have to drain my Entropy to near-empty as well.”
I pace over to Jinx’s chair and, with great effort, peel my fingers from my grimoire.
I scoop Jinx up and drape her across my shoulders.
The familiarity eases a mighty weight in me and I sigh, sinking into the chair and crossing my bare legs.
Jinx’s thread tugs lightly at my soul and I stroke the soft fluff behind my familiar’s ears.
A soft whisper of Jinx’s voice is barely heard over the drum of my own heart. A huge strain on our magic reserves, but much easier with Jinx grounding me.
You’d drain too dry by doing that.
I worry my lip, eyes narrowing on the pentagram in the book. “It would be my biggest feed yet. I’ve never done so much at once before.”
The curse would become too strong… and you…
“Too weak.” My heart drops. “Even if I waited to break the curse until after my magic was fully regenerated, it might not be enough. A massive feed like that would make the curse even stronger. It could overpower me when I try to break it or it would use that time to infect my Creation Thread. If that happens, then both halves of my soul will become corrupt.”
The memory of Alasdair smiling at me with his black eyes and bulging, polluted veins, the darkness chasing Lucas and me through the estate, and the flickering crystals in the lamppost outside the shop quickens my pulse.
My voice drops to a hushed whisper. “The curse is changing, Jinx. It’s too strong.
It wants what it’s owed. It tried to rip my soul out at the estate through Alasdair.
I think the only reason it hasn’t hunted me down through him is because my father has bound Alasdair.
It’s why Dimitar is being used to collect me instead of my father.
He’s pouring all his power into controlling Alasdair, but now there’s civil war.
He’ll be distracted. The curse might slip free even with the binding collar. ”
I sensed it… in the black sea… it is no longer being restricted by the grimoire…
Bile surges and my shoulders tighten. “I think that’s been true for longer than we realize. I’ve seen that black mist before. It’s in the darkness outside the shop.”
The silence rings. All I can hear are the synchronized breaths of the two of us as I stare with unseeing eyes at the pentagram. I mumble, “I think I’ve run out of time.”
Claws sink gently into my bare shoulder and my hand smooths flat along Jinx’s spine.
My voice rasps as I continue, “There’s another option.
I’ll use the power of the Entropy Flame to unwind the curse from my soul and then destroy it.
It’s powerful enough to do it and the cost should drain it low enough so that I’m back in balance.
If not, Valen will have to suppress me.”
A coughing wheeze comes from my familiar. No! You’ll turn to ash.
“Maybe… probably.” I sigh. “It’s a shit plan, but I’m out of options and it’s the only magic I have left.
The curse is too strong and I was too na?ve when creating my grimoire.
I let my anger cloud my judgment and was too impatient to wait until I had a mature grimoire to bind the curse to.
This is our best chance to stop the curse before it’s too late. ”
Jinx’s eyelids droop, her inner lids sliding partially closed.
I stroke her, pressure building behind my eyes.
“I wish you could be on my shoulders while I do it, but I can’t risk it.
The curse could get you, too. I need you, Jinx.
If I come out of this a corrupted monster, kill me.
Please, Jinx. I’d rather it be by you than anything else. ”
Blue eyes slide close and I stroke the silky patch of fur under Jinx’s chin, forcing the familiar to turn towards me. “I love you, Jinx.”
Wheezing breath is my response. We have no idea what will happen to Jinx when I die, but it’s a risk we’ll have to take.
I gently set the grimoire down and reach to scoop Jinx off my shoulders. But the familiar tightens, all four paws touching as she curls around my neck. Tears burn my eyes and I reach up and back to wrap both arms around my familiar. With a choked breath, I whisper, “Thank you. For everything.”
A tear slips free and dampens Jinx’s paw.
Unable to bear the pain any longer, I slide Jinx off and rest her on the cushion. With one last stroke, I step away and pick up the chalk.
I kneel on the slate floor, my fingers curling around my silver blade as I take its place in the center. The white chalk stands out against the smooth black, nearly glowing in the firelight.
I think back to when I cast the curse while hiding within the Archweaver archives, Alasdair laying within the center of the pentagram.
Naked like I am, but unconscious. His peaceful expression and lovely blond curls only served to make my past self more callous and infuriated.
There was a purpling bruise along his ribs where I’d kicked him before drawing the pentagram.
Now my throat tightens, Valen’s words hissing in my ear. What did he ever do to you other than be a pawn?
Something foreign flickers in my chest and my knuckles turn white around my knife.
I try and fail to clear my mind several times.
With a vicious shake of my naked body, I try again and bite the inside of my cheek until the sharp pain is all I can think about.
I release it with a harsh breath and begin.
My hands extend to the side, my head tilting back. Magic hums and the air shivers. A rough, scratching sound comes from my throat. The words twine and twist, the magic pulsing. The shadows deepen and my eyes roll back. My mind blanks, my fingers tingling. The knife leaves my grasp.
The pain. I don’t move, don’t twitch. To do so would mean death. Powered by my magic, the knife carves into my chest, the circle imprinting upon my flesh. Blood pours down my naked body, pooling around me. I don’t stop chanting. The blade flicks, a thousand little cuts. A price to be paid in blood.
The moment my blood touches the chalk, the circle flares.
Black lightning cracks. The vault shivers, the magic snapping and hissing.
The air stings my lungs and my fingers tremble.
I keep my voice steady through the little slivers of stinging agony.
My heart thunders. Tears slip down. My chest pumps.
I carve the curse from my flesh until the last syllable slips free. The knife clatters to the floor.
But nothing happens. My brows furrow. Did I miss a syllable? I try to lower my head, but it doesn’t move. I try my arms. Nothing. Cold burns my chest and fear sinks low in my stomach.