Chapter 24 #2
Vera bit her lip and seemed to shrink in on herself, her arms wrapping around her middle. “I would tell you if I could, Mr. Daring, and that’s exactly why Mary-Alice didn’t tell me a thing. I swear. She said if you found me, I’d be a pushover, and she was right. I really am.”
Her voice had the ring of truth to it, and I checked Kit’s reaction to gauge whether my instinct was correct. The hopeless devastation on his face pointed to yes. He heard it too. Shit.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” I said, trying to make her feel better since I didn’t know what to do for Kit. “I’m sure you would’ve put up a fight.”
Her eyes were tearful as she shook her head. “I really wouldn’t. It feels awful not to be able to tell you so you can help them. I’ve never seen Mary-Alice so scared, and she wouldn’t even tell me why. She just said to watch out for anyone trying to sweet talk me and not to walk alone at night.”
“Has anyone approached you?” Kit asked, jumping on the question before I could.
“Only you two. I’m so sorry, Mr. Daring.”
Another bust.
George was tapping his fingers on his knee when we slid into the car. He raised his eyebrows. “That was quick. Good news?”
“She didn’t know anything.” Kit sounded hollowed out, gutted.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the steering wheel, arguing with myself until finally, I said, “I heard something from a contact today, and I was going to bring it up with you after a nice supper with Mum, so it didn’t blow up in our faces right before, but here we are.”
My tone of voice clearly gave them both pause. After a moment, Kit made an inquiring noise.
Lifting my head, I looked right at him. “You’ve been asking around for someone else to do a blood magic tracking spell with your blood.”
“You gotta be kidding me!” George exclaimed, then gestured at Kit. “Something’s wrong with his head.”
“Well, I couldn’t ask Gus, could I?” Kit tossed back. “Neither of us wanted him risking it.”
“Tough,” I growled, and poked a finger into Kit’s chest. “If you think I’m gonna let some lug who don’t know their own ass from a hole in the ground try and work magic with your blood, there really is something wrong with your head.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Kit said, tartly, not bothering to knock my hand away.
“What are you saying?” George asked me, his anxious energy clear in the way he was tugging at one of the buttons on his jacket.
“I’m saying I’ll do it. Now. Back at my place before Kit goes off half-cocked with some snake-oil salesman of a mage claiming they know what they’re doing.”
“You said you wouldn’t,” Kit argued, grabbing my hand, voice torn between hope and consternation. “You said it was too dangerous.”
“It is too goddamn dangerous!” George interjected, slapping the seat back. “What if it kills you? What if it kills both of you?”
I hated that I put that fear in George’s voice, hated the idea of what it would do to him if everything went wrong. “We’re out of other options. And I don’t believe for a second even if Kit tells me he won’t, that he’s not going to be lying through his teeth.”
“I can’t ask you for this,” Kit insisted, fingers clenching around mine.
“And I can’t risk losing you when I can do something about it. Where’s the letter Ted sent you in the magic box? The first one you got back?”
Kit swallowed hard, then reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew the letter I’d figured he had with him. He was sentimental enough to, and the fact that he had might just be enough to save us both.
“Kit,” George begged, plaintive—but then he looked at Kit and saw the tears welling in Kit’s eyes, their shine clear in the streetlight streaming through the car window. “I swear to God if one of you gets hurt or dead, I’ll kill the other one!”
“George,” I admonished.
“Make sure you don’t, then, if you don’t want me to.”
The drive home was tense, and it didn’t get any less charged as I set up the ingredients.
First, coarse sea salt harvested by my cousin down Three Fathom Harbour during the first full moonrise of the month.
The ocean and the moon have their own kind of temperamental magic; it flows along a cycle in correlation with the phases and the culmination lends stability, more powerful because it’s strongest in this province on the Eastern Shore.
We were going to need both those qualities.
Next, pine needles gathered from the outskirts of a mage’s graveyard where the evergreens soak up residual magic and emotional energy year-round.
Then the first letter Ted had sent Kit back in the music box. Not only was it a connection to Ted, but Kit had also been carrying it around in his pocket, which meant it had plenty of time to steep in the hope Kit felt when he got it. The relief at proof of life, and then longing to be reunited.
Lastly, a cigar. Its rich smoke would wisp around and wind through the other ingredients, binding the magic in them, priming them for the necessary spill of blood.
I rarely needed more than a few drops of my own, but I wasn’t as used to dealing with someone else’s blood.
Too little and we’d have a quick sizzle, then an explosion as the magic burst apart untethered.
Too much and the spell would latch on to Kit or me or both of us, pulling magic from our bodies like sucking water through a too-small and flimsy paper spout—it would tear us open trying to get more.
Kit stood beside me in the living room, but I’d asked George to watch from the entryway. I wanted him to be able to duck back behind the wall for safety if something went wrong. If Kit and I ended up injured instead of dead, we’d need him able to help.
Chewing his lip, Kit reached for my hand as I poured salt in the dark brown ceramic bowl my grandfather had given me, the echoes of my family’s power still resonating within. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” I asked, looking into his worried green eyes.
“You shouldn’t have to do this for me. You didn’t want to do this. I don’t like feeling like I’m making you. Darn it, I don’t… Gus…” His expression went pained and guilty and he was suddenly close to tears again. So, I kissed him and ignored the faux-gagging sound George made.
“You’re not forcing me. You made your choice, and I’m making mine.” I’ve lived without you, Kit Lovely, I wanted to say. I sure as hell don’t want to do it again. I just hoped if the spell took one of us out, it was me. If it had to be him, it better take me too.
Closing his eyes, Kit took a deep breath—he had to have heard the truth in my voice—then reluctantly let my hand go.
“I trust you,” he said, and my heart thumped hard. Stealing one more kiss, I braced myself to start.
The pine needles went in, and I used my fingers to stir them in with the salt.
The letter, I placed over the white and green speckled mixture.
The scrape and hiss of the match as I lit it for the cigar sounded loud in the silence.
I inhaled sweet earthy smoke and let it sit for a moment in my lungs, absorbing my magic by proximity, then bent forward, breathing it slowly into the bowl.
Two deep inhales should do the trick. Stubbing out the cigar, I reached for Kit’s arm, all my focus on the melody of my locating spell.
Magic vibrated through me, deepening my voice, familiar and sweet on my tongue.
Now came the really tricky part.
Please fucking let this work.
Please.
I picked up a small silver knife and held Kit’s arm over the bowl, rotating it so his hand was sideways, and very carefully pressed the sharp blade hard enough against his skin to puncture it. My throat went tight. Kit flinched, but he didn’t pull away.
There was a tremble in the gathering magic as Kit’s blood hit the salt, red slowly dripping over the crystals.
I sucked in a shocked breath as static electricity raised every hair on my body.
His fae magic was interacting with the spell.
Kit’s eyes went huge, horrified as his free hand shakily rose to where he must be feeling it in his chest. It was probably the most magic he’d ever used without hurting himself.
At least he hadn’t yet, but it was too late to stop, more than halfway done; the only way out was through. This much magic would blow us to pieces if I let go of it uncontrolled.
Gripping his arm, I squeezed a few more drops of blood out, then let go as I finished the spell and held my breath. The contents of the bowl churned, salt going pink with blood and glowing with shivery, pulsing magic.
Kit grabbed my hand hard as we held our breath and waited. A pink smokey cloud puffed up from the bowl, and I folded in half again, breathing it in.
Flashes of scenery whipped through my mind, one after another, a route I recognized, roads I could follow. One after the other, faster and faster until a sharp turn, easy to miss, a long and winding drive, nothing more than trees cleared and vegetation run over often enough to show wear.
A lonely shack.
Gasping, I jerked upright as my magic yanked uncomfortably.
I’d gotten what we needed, and the spell was supposed to dissipate, but I couldn’t slow it.
I blinked hard trying to clear darkness from my vision so I could check on Kit and found his chest heaving.
Blinked again. Silver and green magic glowed, twisting and twining between us. Around us. Coming from us.
I couldn’t make it stop.
And Kit looked terrified.
“I’m sorry!” he shouted; his knees were shaking, about to give out. I caught him with an arm around his waist and pulled him tight to me. “Gus, I’m sorry!”
“Don’t you dare say that like you’re saying goodbye.
I’m not giving you up that easy, Lovely,” I snarled, using every scrap of will I had, every single part of me to sever the hold the spell had on us.
I was August fucking North. My ancestors had been using blood magic since time immemorial, and there was no way I was letting a bit of fae magic beat me.
Not now. Not when it was going to take Kit.
A sound like a half-remembered dream floated in the back of my mind, a giggle in Elsie’s voice, and suddenly I swore I felt John’s hand on my shoulder.
My own legs steadied, and I gripped Kit tighter.
“Enough!” I hauled back the magic, forcing it toward me, tearing it from the bowl and smothering the spell with strength I couldn’t rightly claim was only mine.
Every muscle in my body throbbed, every drop of blood sparking with magic that wanted to be unleashed, but I held on, determined, desperate.
Finally the last of it went with a screech like a kettle come to boil. Kit and I dropped, strings cut.
I didn’t even feel the pain of landing on my knees before my hands were all over Kit, frantically checking if he was in one piece.
“I’m all right, Gus. I’m all right. Are you? God, are you?”
“Yeah,” I choked out, shook up and so fucking grateful. Cupping Kit’s face, I kissed him hard. And this time George didn’t even make a disgusted noise.