Chapter 8 #2
“Knowing what to expect doesn’t mean it’s not going to sink its nasty little hooks into you. You went full Gollum last time. It was creepy as hell.”
He sank into his seat, watching closely. Their feet bumped under the table. Gabriel shifted away as he cracked open the grimoire, turning to the first page.
No darkness spread across his skin. Pain didn’t send him hunching over the table.
Gabriel’s gaze flitted up from the page as Miles pulled a Ouija board from his backpack. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”
“Sometimes spirits need a little help when they’re trying to talk.”
He positioned the planchette in the middle of the board, then lit two blue candles and mint incense for communication. At the four corners of the board, he placed chunks of blue kyanite and clear quartz.
“Don’t you need to turn the lights out?” Gabriel needled. “Set the scene?”
“This isn’t an episode of Specter Seekers.” Real ghosts couldn’t care less about the lighting.
Miles finished setting everything up, leaning back in his chair to listen to the house, Gabriel’s breathing, and the whisper of paper as he turned the page.
“If there’s a spirit in this house, I’m here to talk,” Miles said loudly. “If you’re trying to reach out and I can’t hear you, I have these helpful tools in front of me that you can use.” He tapped the planchette. “You can move this around the board to spell what you want to say.”
“How do you know the kid can spell?” Gabriel muttered.
Miles ignored him, waiting, but nothing happened. He didn’t sense anything beyond the general aura.
“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk. I’ll hang out here for a bit in case you change your mind.”
He watched Gabriel while he waited. He always looked vaguely concerned when he was reading, but he wasn’t bleeding from the eyes or foaming at the mouth, so they were doing pretty well.
But he looked exhausted—dark under his eyes, and tight around his mouth like he hadn’t unclenched his jaw once in the last twelve hours. It made being grumpy with him difficult, no matter how rotten Miles was feeling. He wanted to wrap Gabriel in a hug and make him take a nap.
Despite his anxieties and the insecurities whispering in his ear, he knew Gabriel cared about him. After the shit he’d pulled, his reaction to Miles’s death premonition, Miles would have to be an idiot to pretend otherwise. It was the life raft he was clinging to while riding out Hurricane Gabriel.
Part of Miles hoped this was all about his death.
That Gabriel was afraid and handling it badly.
Still pissed that Miles thought it was a good sign.
Because the alternative was that Gabriel was trying to not-so-gently let him down, to make it clear their kiss hadn’t meant anything—or if it had, he’d changed his mind.
And that made Miles feel like his heart was being stomped on.
“I can’t read with you staring at me like that,” Gabriel muttered without looking up. “And thinking so loudly.”
Heat scorched Miles’s face. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I wasn’t—”
“Look at this.” Gabriel spared him from a messy, mortifying explanation, tilting the book so Miles could see. “I found our mystery monster from the tunnel.”
The page was yellowed and stiff, filled with jagged, knife-sharp writing that was nearly impossible to read.
Halfway down there was an ink drawing of the thing that had attacked them: claws and curling smoke, hollow sockets for eyes, broad-shouldered pit bull stance and massive jaw.
Seeing it again made Miles’s gut shrivel up with fear.
“What is it?”
“A protector. Once summoned, it’s bound to the bloodline and acts as a guard. It must’ve been left behind at the old house to watch over the grimoire.”
“That’s why it attacked me instead of you. And why you could”—Miles twirled his hand—“poof it. It had to obey you.”
“Interesting.” Gabriel flipped to the next page, fingers skimming down it as he read. “Speaking of interesting, I found a summoning spell.”
Miles leaned in, trying to read. There were a few lines and what looked like a list of ingredients. “What about it?”
When Gabriel looked up, there was an eager gleam in his eyes.
“You believe something is holding Jocelyn here, and that it’s preventing you from communicating with her.
What if this spell—given the grimoire’s unnaturally powerful magic—is strong enough to supersede the one restraining her?
She could tell us who the killer is and how to stop them. ”
A shudder rolled through Miles. “No. No way. Who knows the cost of a spell like that?” The possibilities were endless, and horrifying. “And it might not even work—if she’s bound here by a spell from the grimoire, the magic could refuse to act against itself.”
“Or it could be the only magic powerful enough to stand a chance,” Gabriel countered. “It has to be worth a try.”
“It’s not. We’d be idiots to use it without knowing anything about how it works. For all we know, once you use it, you’re bound to it forever. What if that’s how your family’s curse started?”
Gabriel’s chin lifted stubbornly. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m already cursed. Using it shouldn’t affect me.”
That was so far from reassuring, they weren’t even in the same zip code.
“Do you not remember what happened the last time you messed with that magic?” Miles would never forget the shadows slinking up Gabriel’s skin, his gasps of agony.
“The second you open that door, it’ll slip in and take you over. ”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Miles didn’t like the way Gabriel said that, the hungry way his gaze roved over the page. The whole direction of this conversation made Miles uneasy.
“I think it’s time for a break.”
Gabriel glanced up, annoyance creasing his features. “We’re in the middle of a discussion.”
“And we can continue to discuss it. Later, when I know if you’re just being reckless, or if the grimoire is pushing you to use it.”
A beat of loaded silence crawled by, Gabriel’s throat flexing like he was swallowing down retorts.
“Of course.” He closed the book deliberately, then held it out for Miles. His hand trembled. “Here.”
He let Miles take it without a fight, as if to prove he could. The second it was out of his grasp, he sagged back, color leeching from his face.
Miles reached for him—then caught himself and pulled back. “Are you okay?”
Gabriel waved him off. “Fine. It… sneaks up on me. I don’t even feel it until it’s gone.”
“What’s it like?”
“Like it’s taking a piece of me with it. Like I need to do whatever it takes to get it back.”
Miles tossed the wretched thing onto the table. “I wish we didn’t have to use it. I want to throw it in the nearest fire.”
Gabriel flinched, then looked surprised. “Oh. I think it’s compelling me to feel a degree of protectiveness over it.”
“And that doesn’t worry you?”
“It’s a necessary evil.”
Understatement of the year. The second it stopped being necessary, Miles was ripping it apart with his bare hands and flushing the scraps down the nearest toilet.
A thump sounded over their heads.
“Burglar, or ghost?” Gabriel asked.
“Fifty-fifty.” Miles leaped to his feet. “I’ll go check it out. Don’t touch the book while I’m gone.”