Chapter 29 #2
Echoes above and I turn upward. A gold thread stretches high from my heart. And there, with her wrist wrapped around it, is Viola. Tears stream down her face. “I love you.” And she cups my cheek.
Threads. Glowing, pulling. Everywhere. I turn as more and more branch out. Gold threads of Creation. Black threads of Entropy. Green threads of Transformation. Blue threads of Preservation. All of them branch farther and farther until I gasp.
All around me the Tapestry of Magic shimmers. Each strand linked together in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of swirling stars.
Heart thudding, I reach for the Tapestry with my free hand. Fingers lace with mine. A figure emerges from the strands, tall and regal, the stone of her statue in Monument Park dusting away until Antonia Androclaria stands before me.
I can’t breathe as green eyes peer into my very soul.
The great Archweaver of the past speaks, the sounds of her voice misaligning from her lips and echoing all around. “It’s not time yet.”
I swallow, gaze dropping to the Weave. A rope of all four threads twisted together blooms from the darkness to touch Antonia’s heart, the chambers still in death. The rope slips past my ancestor to arch down into the darkness around.
Antonia reaches out, her fingers dipping into my chest where my Dual Threads flicker. Her index loops around the gold thread and the middle loops around the black. She draws them forward and my chest aches. The severed pieces of my soul vibrate like two magnets fighting to connect.
Through the pain, her voice echoes, “All your life, you feared what you are because you were told to fear it. An abomination to be culled. A mistake in the Weave to be fixed.” She draws her own multistrand Soul Thread forward, making the line tight.
“You believed that you are to be feared for what you cannot control.” She winds my black thread first. Smoke hisses and a tar-like substance bubbles away to reveal the glistening strand beneath.
She smiles. “They were right about one thing. You are to be feared.” She winds the gold.
Her green eyes sharpen, her voice an eerie hiss in the cosmos. “Because magic does not make mistakes.”
She releases the threads.
My soul snaps together and my mouth stretches open in agony. Searing hot pain burns through me like a soldering iron is drawn up the center of my being. All four threads weave along the glowing crack, stitching the halves together.
Power pulses throughout me, changing me, elevating me. My scar from when my soul ripped apart remains, but all four threads are twisted together to make a single, opalescent line.
My eyes shift and glow like two embers. One gold. One black. A ring of multicolored glory halos them. I turn to the curse, who is frozen a mere few inches from my soul.
Magic thrums and I throw the creature away before the sharp teeth sink into my face. But it doesn’t go far. Bones crack, shoulders popping free, when the creature reaches the end of its arm span, for I do not let go of its hand.
The creature screams, writhing like a worm on a hook.
The white skin sizzles and peels back to reveal swollen black veins and the putrid, discolored meat of its flesh.
A surge of power fills my chest, power that I have not felt in years.
I blink and a smile spreads across my face, elation surging to chase the shadows and fear.
Entropy and Creation do not mix. It’s magical law.
But now they are balanced by Preservation and Transformation.
A great cycle of magic. A rightness that rings true and clear.
My two flames burn, my eyes flickering. Gold flames rise from one eye, black flames from the other.
My heart pulses, the fire twisting, blending, and swirling into a cycle.
No longer forced apart, my flames ripple through me, birthing me into something new and wondrous.
The curse screams, writhing and trying to rip free. But I don’t let go. I smile down at the creature, my skin glowing as I ascend past being a mere weaver. I am a new Heir. The Heir of Antonia.
My voice echoes. “I’ve changed my mind.” Great wings beat in my heart and a throbbing pulse fills the space. “No deal.”
Then the sphere holding me shatters. The curse shrieks an unholy sound and scrambles.
My magic explodes, my head throwing back.
I laugh and it’s the pure sound of bells chiming.
An untainted flame of glorious heat washes over me, searing away the dark corruption that I permitted to drown my soul.
A stain remains along the scar. A remembrance of my wrongs.
The fire cycle unfurls around me like the mighty wings of the phoenix.
My father was right. It’s a glorious magic.
I whisper, “Run.” Fire erupts.
The curse does not falter. It flees, unwinding itself from my soul and magic. My fire burns the corruption in sickening sizzles and pops before traveling down the line to the curse. The line snips, the fire burning it up until it hisses. The curse, unbound, bolts away, the black oil going with it.
My wings of fire beat and I rise, spinning in the glory of all that I am.
My eyes slide open to peer at the ceiling of my vault.
I smile. My chest is full of a warm heat that thaws the previous chill.
Jinx looks down at me, healthy and alive in her cat form.
Then she morphs. No pain accompanies it this time.
Just a gentle shift of energy. A magnificent beast smiles at me, similar but grander than the form I witnessed leaping over me to slap the spider book back into the vault.
Massive, Jinx fills the vault with her large shoulders, slightly shorter hind legs curled in a sit, a large plume of tail circling around to brush my cheek affectionately.
Her blue eyes are different. They’re flecked with gold and black with veins of shimmering opalescence, the sight bringing a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.
Jinx’s fangs hang below her jaw and her mystical voice rings with power.
“Who knew you’d have a genuine self-sacrifice in you? ”
I laugh. “Right? Who knew?”
Jinx steps back and offers a large paw. I grab it and Jinx hauls me up. My familiar circles me. “I’ve never seen something like this. A second Heir to a dead Archweaver. The implications are limitless. I’m sure your father is going to start a riot when you’re discovered.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” I twist my hands, studying the flicker of black and gold beneath my skin. “I have no idea how or why this has happened.”
Jinx sniffs me from toes to the tip of my head. She exhales harshly, my hair blowing forward with it. “Maybe Antonia was waiting for you to be properly humbled.”
I glare.
Jinx shrugs a muscular shoulder. “Maybe it was to see if you could see past your own selfish desires.”
“Gross, I hate those theories. Maybe it was because I’d been sucked into that space with the curse and I was able to be reached from the Tapestry.” I smirk. “Yes, that sounds way better.”
Jinx rolls her eyes and I nod towards the door. “Shall we make Dimitar piss himself?”
Jinx laughs and the sound fills me with such joy. I throw my arms around her and the familiar encloses me in fluffy warmth. She shifts into a massive all-black tiger with silvery stripes glittering in the firelight. Tendrils of smoke stream from her eyes and ears.
My eyes widen. “Is that what the Amur looks like?”
Jinx chuckles and her tail swishes with the same trailing smoke. “Open the door. It’s time for that fucker to realize who he’s messing with.”
Flames crackle around me, gold and black. My hair shortens until it’s back to my preferred length, and I throw my vault door open. Naked, on fire, and covered in blood from barely clotted wounds, I step out into the basement.
The final ghoul is dead and there’s a smashed spider-themed book in the center of the room, one leg at an odd angle.
Satisfaction curls my lips. I was right.
The Arachnomicon required physical magic to be defeated, and the most powerful version of that is a transformed weaver or magician.
Ivan and Dimitar did the work of subduing the book for us.
A bite mark mars the binding that I might fix later.
But probably not. It’s going straight into an iron box after this.
Ivan is not far from it. He’s half-shifted and breathing heavy, one eye missing, and a weeping spider bite in the arm. Dimitar is hovering over him, staring at me, slack-jawed. His suit is ruined, jacket and shirt torn half off.
It’s the first time I’ve seen his magician’s token.
The emerald in the center glints with an unholy light, the kind that turns my stomach.
Metal claws from around the stone sink deep into the magician’s flesh, burn scarring bubbling along the edges in long rivulets throughout his chest. It’s a nasty token fusion that screams of violence and pain.
The Transformation Thread within forces my gaze to drop.
Disgust. Vile. Abomination. Anything else is lost to me and my brain throbs in my skull.
The Amulet of Acerabus is embedded right above it, keeping him from shifting into his other form.
I was right in giving it to Valen. He used it perfectly to keep the Amur from overwhelming them.
The blue stone glows brightly and an eerie high-pitched ring emanates from it.
Blood drips from the gold fangs and trails of red slide down Dimitar’s skin to stain his once-immaculate starched shirt.
And yet, his token is perfectly clean in a way that hurts my head to comprehend.
Valen and Lucas are side by side, ready to attack. Valen is bleeding from a slash down his face, one eye closed. Lucas is only a little better, if not horribly bruised, with his rings spluttering.
I hold up the useless grimoire with a grin. My Soul Threads that were binding it are gone, pulled free when I ascended to Heir. “I have your book.”
Dimitar snarls, but rears back when Jinx slinks out from the vault.
My familiar is larger than me and wraps her massive tiger body around my back.
A growl that shivers over me has Dimitar swallowing, his skin sallow.
I toss my useless grimoire at him. “I highly suggest you take it and honor our deal while Ivan is still breathing.” I smile.
“I have a book with an antidote if you’d like to purchase it. But I won’t be crafting it for you.”
Dimitar scowls, his voice low with menace. “I won’t forget this.”
I roll my shoulders back with a snort. “You’re in no place to make threats. Let’s be smart about this and call it even. You hurt my familiar. I hurt you. You made a stupid deal. I honored it. Done.”
But Dimitar is not done. It shines in his eyes. I humiliated him. Defeated him. And worse, Lucas is still free. He is the loose thread that gives the others hope of freedom. My business just got a whole lot more complicated.
To kill him would be so easy, but the mess would be disastrous.
The Guild could try to seek revenge. Someone worse could rise to power.
The fallout of Guild infighting would tear the city apart.
The weaver civil war is already going to be disastrous.
Order and Guild crumbling? Havenport would be in ashes by the end. And I like this city.
Jinx’s lips curl to bare her fangs, tail flicking. I stroke her fluffy cheek. “Run along back to your Guild, Dimitar, before I change my mind.”
Dimitar snatches up the grimoire and hauls Ivan over his shoulder. Jinx and I track his ascent up the stairs. Something collides with me, dousing my flame, and I stumble back into Jinx’s side.
Lucas’ shuddering breath shifts my hair. “You’re a crazy bitch with the luck of a goddess.”
“Glad you recognize me for what I am,” I giggle and grip him back with equal fervor.
He scoffs, but it ends with a huffed laugh. My fingers twist with his shirt, breathing in his scent. That clean masculine sweat mixes with blood and singed magic of a good fight. I press my nose into his neck where the tip of his tattoo curls up, my eyes fluttering shut with his heartbeat.
I turn to find Valen watching us silently.
I reach out, palm up. He hesitates, his throat moving.
Lucas huffs and snatches Valen by the ruined jacket and hauls him in.
Valen sneers, but acquiesces to our tight embrace.
Jinx’s tail flicks around them and she headbutts my back.
It’s warm, snug, and a place I find myself never wanting to leave.
Dimitar’s enraged roar makes us jump, the volume rattling my teeth. “Someone get their fucking ass up here and open the goddamn door!”
Jinx huffs and slinks up the stairs to escort the shifters from the basement and shop. Valen shrugs out of his blood-stained jacket and drapes it over my bare shoulders.
I sigh, wrapping it tightly around me. “Shall we get cleaned up and mended?”
Valen nods, his arm sliding around my hips. Lucas tosses his over my shoulders and I hum in satisfaction. A girl could get used to this.