41. Cain
CAIN
I’m the last to use the bathroom, and when I come out, freshly shaved, washed, and wearing a light, herby scent, I find Roman waving his sage bundle around and muttering incantations.
I glance at my watch, and my heart picks up speed. It’s almost two thirty, which means in less than half an hour, we’re going to start the ceremony. We’ll do the same as before to begin with, but then we’ll be chasing Ophelia out of the door and into the dark woods.
It’s fucking hot to think about, but I’m worried it might all go wrong. What if we push away the last vestiges of sanity any of us has?
I get a sense that the four of us are teetering on the edge of something that could become truly deranged, and I don’t know if it scares me or thrills me.
Part of me wants deranged, if I’m being honest.
Ophelia is awake, and she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, nibbling a nail. She’s wearing a simple t-shirt. One of Mal’s black ones, I think. Underneath, she’s naked, and she’s about to put one of her long, thin, cotton dresses on.
It’s resting on a hanger by the bathroom door, so I pluck it off on my way and hand it to her.
“The restroom is free. You can go use it to get changed while we finish up out here.”
“Thanks,” she says with a smile.
“Hey,” Malachi calls to her.
She pauses and turns to him.
“No panties this time. Nothing but the dress and your naked body underneath.”
Her cheeks flush deep red, but she bites her lip and gives us a nod.
“Good girl,” he says with a growl.
I can practically see her legs shake at the praise, as if she’s about to come from it. I file that away. The bathroom door closes, and I turn to Malachi. “Showtime.”
He grins at me, and it holds a devilish edge.
Roman finally finishes his cleansing smudge and gathers the objects he’s put to one side.
There are two candles and two figurines, one male, to represent the Prophet, and one female to represent Ophelia.
Roman decided at the last minute to add a cord cutting ritual to the menu tonight.
“You sure about this?” I nod at the candles as Roman drapes the red string around them five times.
“It won’t do any harm,” he says. “If he’s in her mind because she’s imagining him, this will help reduce that, and if he’s got some sort of powers that mean he’s really talking to her across space and time, then cutting the cord will help reduce his hold on her.”
“Do you honestly think the latter is possible?” I’m fucking skeptical myself.
“Who knows?” Malachi interrupts. “We’ve done shit, and it’s worked. Look at the Vipers. We did magic to give them a hard time and, fuck me, did they have a hard time.”
“Yeah, but we only wanted to bring them down a peg or two. What happened to them went way beyond what we did, or what we would ever have asked for. Karma is real, and we don’t mess with truly dark shit.”
Malachi rolls his eyes. “I know all of that, Cain .” He says my name as if speaking to a child and it annoys the fuck out of me. “The point is that we gave them a hard time, whether we meant for it to get that bad or not. The magic created some bad juju for them.”
“Or,” I suggest, “bad shit just happens randomly to people.”
“You’re starting to sound like a non-believer.” Malachi runs his fingers through his hair.
“I’m simply saying that believing this guy is so powerful he can access Ophelia’s mind is a bit much.”
“And you’re probably correct,” Roman says, ever the diplomat when Mal and I get into it. “But we can’t be one hundred percent sure. The small sliver of doubt is what makes doing the cord-cutting so essential. And if it’s all simply her mind playing tricks on her, it will help with that, too.”
The bathroom door opens, and Ophelia walks out.
Her dress is loose, but when she walks, it clings to her in a tempting way.
“I’m ready,” she says softly.
The three of us nod and don our masks. I pull the hood down over my head and face, enclosing my senses. Immediately, I feel like I’ve become someone else. My spine straightens, my muscle tense, and a new kind of energy fills me. It’s as though the mask elevates me to a greater power.
Adrenaline courses through my veins at what’s about to happen.
Roman walks to the switch and turns the overhead lights off, leaving only the flickering of the many candles.
“We made a cord-cutting spell for you to try,” he tells Ophelia. “We’ll start with this, do a brief cleansing over you, then we will begin the ceremony in the woods.”
He leads Ophelia to the two candles with the thick, red string draped around them. His gaze rakes up and down her body, the slender outline visible, but he says nothing.
“Tie this string in a way that you feel represents your relationship with the Prophet.” Roman hands her the ends of the string, and she takes it, rubbing it between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand.
“Simply tie it the way you want to, the way that feels right, then when you cut it, you will have cut the cord between you and him, too. But first, do you truly feel ready to do this. Deep down, do you want to let go?”
“Yes,” she says. “Of course, I do.”
“Very well.” Roman lights the candles and waits for Ophelia to tie the cord before he will pass her the scissors to cut it again.