24. Ouroboros #2
Swallowing whatever feeling was fighting its way from my heart, I asked, “So, what did you want to show me?”
Pulling his gaze from me, he pointed to a nearby hill. “Wander.”
As if chaotically and divinely directed by Riot and his terrible act, a howl pierced through the night. In the distance, the indigo silhouette of a hunched razorback arched toward the moon, belting its eerie night’s call.
I involuntarily inched a small margin closer to Spade, who casually rested his elbows on his knees. “He just needs a new book to occupy his mind. Wander gets restless without the escape of literature.”
“You’re kidding,” I marveled. “Lycanthropes read?”
“Read, write, recite poetry. Ask him about it sometime, and I guarantee he won’t shut up until you’ve promised to read his recommendations.” Spade tilted his head and offered a lopsided grin. “Have you ever hexed anyone before?”
Smoothing my dress over my knees, I replied, “Yes, I turned the guy who abandoned my sister into a horse.”
Spade narrowed his vision before his head fell back and he let out a laugh so loud and hearty, it rivaled the song of the lycanthrope.
A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Wow, I had no idea you were capable of merriment.”
Drying his eyes, he wheezed, catching his breath. “A ranch hand, then, I assume? You’d need horsehair at the ready for that spell.”
Surprised at his enchantment knowledge, my eyebrows rose.
“Good catch. That’s correct. It was my first hex.
” I wasn’t about to tell him how I came to know the hex, and I desperately hoped he wouldn’t pry.
Likewise, I wouldn’t share how I’d hexed his lost brother and freed him from his cat-like disguise.
“Well, the young man should be grateful he is not instead a slug-hand.”
I huffed a small laugh. “I suppose so.”
“Did it bring on or accelerate your ailment, with your head?”
“That’s really none of your business. Don’t act concerned now when you were more than happy to torture me a few days ago.” I scoffed. “Swinging your big dark magic dick around.”
Spade choked on another laugh. I wanted to hate him. I really, really wanted to hate him. Why was that becoming a concerted effort?
“Be cautious with dark spells, hexes, curses, even some charms. They take more than they give. Darkness always does. Every seed of baneful power requires tenfold its pound of flesh.” His words weren’t spoken in mockery or condemnation, but what sounded like genuine care and advice.
“I’d give all my flesh to protect my sister. Wouldn’t you, for your brothers?”
“Depends on the day.”
A frigid wind blew, rustling the briars of the maze and raining down dried maple leaves.
Spade shrugged off his dinner jacket and laid it over my shoulders.
Its warmth lit me from the inside, and the smell of him…
bergamot, black currant, and jasmine, danced around the fire kindling low in my belly.
I watched as his large, calloused hands flexed before he ran a hand through his dark as night hair.
“It’s nice out here. Peaceful. A welcome escape from the other crypt.
” He jerked his chin toward the looming castle.
The castle that used to look so far away and grand, now up close and becoming known to me.
What a strange comfort.
“It is nice. The maze, this… you.” I dared, biting my lower lip as I said it, wishing I could swallow the words back into my mouth.
Somehow, Spade didn’t miss a beat. “Indeed… Would you join me here again tomorrow night?”
My heart warmed. “Yes, I would like that. If I can find my way, that is.”
Standing, Spade Blackthorne offered me his hand. “Fortunate for you, I’m an excellent guide. Haven’t lost a witch yet.”
I didn’t like the idea of him with any witch but me… but that wasn’t an emotion I’d let myself explore.
Pulling a dark metal pocket watch out of his pocket, he checked the time. “Unfortunately for us both, however, I must cut this short. Midnight approaches.”
“Guessing you’re not going to tell me why you and your brother have to scurry away at midnight every night, are you?”
The corner of his mouth lifted as he climbed down the ladder. “See? You’re not nearly as daft as Riot claims you are.”
“Oh, that’s just hilarious coming from a man with a stricter haircare routine than me.”
Again, Spade’s laugh lit up the night. As I backed down the ladder, his hands landed on my waist, guiding me down. My pulse quickened, the heat of my core burning brighter with every passing moment I spent with the shadowy and mysterious Blackthorne lord.
When I landed at the bottom of the ladder, the crypt at my back, Spade’s grip remained at my waist as I craned my neck to look up at him. The full moon was a halo around his brooding darkness. His scarred gaze assessed me with a torrent of emotions I wished I could decipher.
Remembering himself, he dropped his hold and turned, offering me his arm.
More of a gentleman than Riot, who would have had his hands up my dress by this point, I was sure of it.
Spade’s words said no, that he wouldn’t help me.
Though, why then, did he tell me about the surveillance of his familiar?
That discovery alone gave me hope… and it could potentially tell me where Prism was located.
The way he looked at me, his defense for me…
did Spade feel sympathy for my plight, or was there something more brewing in the cauldron of his mind?
What lurked in the twisted and sharp maze of Spade Blackthorne’s dark heart?
The autumn night embodied Spade as he offered me his elbow for a third time, a silent question, or maybe a quiet request.
My hand trailed down his forearm as I locked my arm with his.
The kindling in my belly grew. My side pressed against him as we strolled slowly, arm in arm, in no hurry to fill the steps with speed or the silence with words.
For a few brief moments, I didn’t fear the bones, the house, or the lycanthrope that prowled beyond the thorny headstones.
Relief from the plague of shame of missing Prism eased as the heavy fabric of Spade’s coat warmed my bare shoulders.
Maybe it was magic.
Maybe it was something else.
Spade was a dark and baneful spell, one I knew, if uttered, would require more than one pound of flesh. Would I give in to his gravity? Or would his shadow swallow me whole?
Either way, I desired to see if our tale would be a bittersweet path or a downfall of regret. Are those not often the best things?