Chapter 42
Forty-Two
Cally huffed in exasperation.
“What’s up?” Eve asked.
“This is all just gobbledygook. I can’t get my head around it.
” She pointed at one of the tomes spread out on the bed around her.
“This one lists a whole bunch of spells, and that should be great, but it also references incantations I can’t find anywhere else, so they’re all useless.
” Her hand waved at the next book. “This one has two pages on incantations, but it’s structural and hypothetical, with no actual examples.
” She sighed, jabbing another. “Whoever wrote this one went on to invent Ikea instructions. Half of it is in Latin, and mid-sentence it drifts into Gaeilge.”
“This one is mostly history,” Eve said, closing her book with a snap. “They do like to waffle on and self-congratulate, don’t they?”
“Oh, I hate that one. Definitely reads like the smug patriarchy wrote it.”
“I’m sure there’s an answer here somewhere.”
“So am I. That’s what’s so damn frustrating. These texts are the real deal, but it’s like putting together a ten-thousand-piece puzzle with three thousand pieces and no picture.”
“Maybe we should take a break?”
Cally shook her head. “We don’t have time for a break. Three more days until Antoine’s week expires.”
“But you’ve been working on this non-stop. It gets to the point where you can’t see the wood for the trees.” She added in a mutter, “At least for me.”
“How hard can it be to find one damn spell that could help?” Cally prodded the book beside her.
“If I wanted to remove a wart or preserve some herbs, I’m sorted.
I can lower the ambient temperature and might even be able to use a basin of water to scry—which admittedly is pretty cool—but where’s the power? ”
“I expected more boons and curses,” Eve mused. “Didn’t Belle say that was what witches were known for?” Cally flinched at Belle’s name, and Eve added a hasty, “Sorry.”
Cally waved it off. “There are curses in this one,” she said, pointing at the third book beside her. “But they’re all fragments.”
“Yeah, I know, I—” She faltered, then frowned. “Wait. What do you mean by fragments?” Eve rose from her chair, leaving her current book on the seat, and came over to look.
“Fragments. As in two lines of a spell that really should have, like, six or ten. They feel incomplete.”
“But wasn’t there something in this one about fragments?” Eve pulled around the book that Cally had been using to cross-reference incantations.
“Yeah, I think so,” Cally said wearily. “I’ve read it three times but it doesn’t get any clearer. Besides, the curse one doesn’t say ‘fragments’. That was my word.”
“Look, here.” Eve flipped to a page a third of the way through, tapping a section in Latin, where she’d scrawled the translation in the margin. “‘The work of one witch is never complete. And next to it—frusta contexta—pieces woven together.’”
“Yeah, I saw that. Isn’t it a coven reference again?”
“That’s what I thought, at first. But what if it’s your fragments?
” Her head jerked up, eyes startled open.
“Wait, wait, wait.” She turned pages rapidly, scanning the text while Cally stayed perfectly still, trying not to distract mid-epiphany.
“Here!” she said, stabbing at a page. “Schema, vox, voluntas.”
“My phone battery’s low.” Cally flapped a hand. “Just…?”
“Structure, voice, will.” Eve had found some energy, her fingers drumming the page, her words quick. “Will is intent, right?”
“Sure. Okay.”
“Voice is obvious.”
“Gaeilge rhyming couplets.” She grimaced. “I’m sure the rhyming is essential.”
“Schema—it means structure, but also arrangement and framework. It’s used in architecture.”
“Like a building block?”
“Exactly! It’s not Ikea, it’s Lego—just like you said once before, right? You’ve got a bunch of mismatched pieces, and you have to weave them together! Put the wrong bit in the wrong slot and your spaceship’s a lawnmower.”
“Great,” Cally said dryly. “So I blow Antoine’s head off instead of imbuing him with strength.”
“Yes, but don’t you see? That’s why the curses felt chopped up. Some texts only kept the words—voice. Others describe the setup—structure. Then you drive it with intent.” She grabbed the curse book, flipping through. “Like here: ‘To grow hunger,’ ‘To bind a shadow.’”
Cally groaned, raking a hand through her hair. “So we have to play magical join-the-dots until it works.”
“It’s kind of genius, actually,” Eve said with a note of awe.
“Build your own spell. Plus, it prevents just anyone from flipping through and learning how to kill their neighbor’s goat.
” She laughed. “No wonder the Order left these well alone. Historically, men were encouraged and educated to focus on linear, rational, ‘scientific’ thinking. But women were excluded from those roles, and our witch sisters of old have embraced the ‘intuitive’ or ‘relational’ stereotype.” She shook her head in wonder. “Hidden in plain sight. Brilliant.”
“But how the hell can we do this, Eve? We have to align the right structure to the right words, and they all have to fit the right intent…” She faltered as Eve jumped up.
“Spreadsheet!” She ran for the door, leaving Cally blinking after her, but she was back a minute later with her laptop.
“Right. Let’s start with curses, then we’ll do boons,” she said as she pulled up a blank document.
“Give me everything you’ve got, and we’ll color-code them by intent.
” She looked up and grinned. “You know, I used to have a witch Lego set.”
“Why am I not surprised. Was it all in black?”
*
“This boon here. Then this one. With this structure.” Eve nudged Cally with her shoulder. “What does that feel like to you?”
They were sitting side-by-side on the bed, the laptop between them.
Cally leaned forward to peer at the screen.
“‘Mark the skin of the Source,’” she muttered as she read, scanning the directions.
“A circle of blood drawn on the forehead, heart, and hands as the structure.” Eve had included the English translation against the Gaeilge, which was useful as Cally’s phone charged on the bedside table.
“‘Strength of my bones… Heart beats, never fails…’ Looks like a strength spell.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Is that the sort of thing you had in mind?”
“It’s a promising start, if we can make it work. But it says, ‘the skin of the source’—wouldn’t that mean it can only be cast on the witch?”
“Uh, yeah. Good point.”
“I need something for Antoine.”
“Unless you fight Roberto too.”
“I won’t deny the idea holds appeal, but I’m only a lowly marked chattel. Even with this, I don’t think my strength would equal that of a Curia vampire.”
“Do you want to give it a try?”
“Tempting, but no. I need something that will help Antoine.”
“Maybe a different structure,” Eve said thoughtfully. “Something more externally oriented.”
“There’s nothing there,” Cally said. “I paid attention as we put them in. They all originate from the witch.”
“Huh.” Eve scanned the entries in the column under ‘structure’. “That’s kinda introverted.”
“A limitation of the magic, perhaps?”
Eve frowned. “That can’t be right. How would you ever curse anyone?”
“Damn it. We must be missing something.”
Eve rubbed her face. “All right. Let’s take this from another angle. What exactly are you trying to achieve?”
“I don’t know. I figured it would depend on what we had.”
“Ignore the structure and the curses for a moment. Let’s say we’re right, and we can build our own. What do you want the spell to do?”
“Make Antoine stronger,” Cally said without hesitation.
“Stronger how? Pure physicality?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“I think it’s risky,” Eve mused. “I could see him Hulking out, or getting strong but slow or something.”
“Shit. That would be bad.” Cally sighed and punched the pillow beside her. “This is just guesswork! I could hurt him with this!”
“That’s why we’ll practice. But it is magic, babe,” Eve said gently. “No one said it was without risk.”
“You’re right. I know.” She let out a breath.
“All right. Not strength then. Speed maybe? We could…” The words died on her tongue as her subconscious filled in the gaps.
“You have always had power, ma chérie. That, I have never doubted.” Power.
It was all about power. “Pure power,” she said.
“I just want to transfer my power to him.” She looked at Eve. “What do you think? Would that work?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? What do you think?”
Cally bit at her lip. It felt right. Hell, even Darian had gone on about a witch’s magic having power over a vampire. “I think it’s the best shot.”
“Okay then.” Eve nodded firmly, like the decision was locked in.
“We still have to figure out a way to transfer it.”
“Yeah, and that could be really dangerous if we get it wrong. You could burn him, or expend all your life force or something.”
“I feel like a kid playing with matches. While standing amid a stash of dynamite.”
“Apt.” Eve cut the strength spell from the list, putting it on its own page. “Let’s start here. It looks less prone to blow up. If we can make this work, at least we’ll know we’re on the right lines.”
“Why is it never like this in stories?” Cally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The Chosen One gets the spells, and a short training montage later, they’re throwing fireballs around and zipping through the sky. Where’s the bit where they accidentally fuck up and fry the only person they’ve ever truly loved?”
Eve pressed her lips together, focusing on the screen.
“Oh, babe,” Cally said quietly. “I’m sorry. You know that’s not what I meant. I’ve loved you for far longer than Antoine, it’s just—”
“A different type of love,” Eve said. “I know, I get it.” She zoomed in, making the text clear to read, then shoved the laptop toward Cally. “I’ll have my revenge, though: on this one, you’re on your own with the Gaeilge.”
Cally ignored the screen, focusing on Eve. “There’s someone out there for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have a backup plan that involves getting lots of cats.” Eve managed a tremulous smile.
“Soon as I’m proficient with my magic, I’m going to do a proper love spell for you. Henry Cavill won’t know what hit him.”
“Morally reprehensible, but I’ll take it.”
Cally reached across and clasped her hand. “I’ve said it before, but I wouldn’t be able to do this without you. I love you, truly.”
Eve blinked rapidly, her eyes glistening. “Let’s get started. Clock’s ticking, right?”
“All right.” Cally gave a final squeeze and drew back, then straightened the screen and concentrated on the Gaeilge words.
In the corner of her eye, Eve watched with a wistful expression, and Cally reached out once more.
Eve’s small hand fit into hers, then she shuffled closer until their shoulders were touching.
“‘Seasaim’ is pronounced ‘shass-im,’” she said softly, “and ‘bualadh’ is ‘boo-luh.’”
“Got it. How about, ‘Muh lamb iss trum’?”
“Close. ‘Muh lawv iss trum.’”
“And Tabhair?”
“It’s—”
A knock on the door startled them, and Cally broke away.
“Come in, Antoine!” She kicked her legs off the bed and rushed to meet him, throwing herself into his arms as he entered.
He was still in his tux, but his top button was undone and his black bow tie hung loose.
She hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, teasing his tongue with hers.
He drew back after a moment, smiling at her. “It’s two in the morning. You should be in bed, ma chérie.”
“Shit, is it?” Cally looked guiltily at Eve. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“No problem,” she said lightly.
“Have you made any progress?” Antoine asked.
“We think so,” Cally replied. “Eve has been her usual awesomeness.”
“Excellent. I admit I didn’t have much faith in those Order books, but—” He stopped abruptly, eyes turning from blue to red faster than Cally had ever seen, and his fangs extruded.
She recoiled in surprise. “What—”
The lights flickered; then it went dark.
From outside came a dull whump, rapidly followed by three more. Windows shattered, then explosions thundered up from below, shaking the house.
“Go,” Cally said grimly. “We’ll be fine.”
Antoine captured her gaze for a heartbeat of understanding, then whirled for the door. “Stay with them!” he told Noah, and then he was gone.
Noah charged in, grim-faced, slammed the door, and threw his weight against it.
“What’s happening?” Cally asked as she pulled on her ankle boots. She wanted to be ready for whatever was to come.
“Thrall attack,” he said. “There’s dozens of them. A frigging army.”
“How many do we have?”
“Nine. Including me.” A muscle twitched as his jaw clenched. “The day shift is sleeping. Marcel will alert them, but it’ll be over before they get here.”
“Antoine can handle that many, right?” Eve asked, her voice high.
In answer, the house vibrated as several high-powered machine guns roared in unison.