Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
ATLAS
Rune’s skin is lit up like the Fourth of July, his tattoos flickering light and dark blue and emitting a low buzzing sound.
Instantly, he looks better too. The color has returned to his cheeks, his eyes are brighter, and overall, he looks like the man I met months ago, even if he is still in need of a proper shower.
My skin is tingling, and when I look down to check out the tattoo Rune etched into me, my jaw drops.
“Uh, Rune?”
He turns to look at me with a bright smile that vanishes when he lays eyes on me. “Well, fuck me.”
“Is this supposed to happen?” I extend my arm, watching the tattoos scroll their way down to my fingertips. “I thought it would just be one.”
Rune steps closer, his expression filled with curiosity. When he touches me, the tattoos respond, flickering and brightening into a solid glow. “Amazing.”
“What does it mean?”
His gaze moves to my face. “It means it worked even better than we expected. My magic is stored inside you as much as it is in me. Together, I doubt there’s anything we can’t do.” He flexes his fingers, giggling happily as the magic sizzles and shoots out. “Gods, Atlas. We really are mates.”
I nod as the news fully sinks in. All this time, I didn’t think this was possible, and certainly not with a human, but that’s the only reasonable explanation. We’re fated mates. Our life forces are fused for eternity.
“Now, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says.
“Are you sure it’ll work?”
“Watch.”
He flicks his wrist, mumbling words, and in an instant, we’re both dressed in fresh, clean clothes. I’m wearing tight jeans and a cashmere sweater that clings to my chest.
“These are not my clothes.”
Rune grins. “Call it a fantasy wardrobe. My fantasy.”
I puff my chest out a bit. “You like this look?”
“I meant what I said.” His tone drops a bit. “It wasn’t just the heat of the moment. If I had a mate, I would want it to be you, and I’m pretty sure my wish was granted.”
Now seems as good a time as any to confess. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.”
He smiles sweetly. “Really?”
“Why would I chase you if I didn’t care?”
“Fair argument. I’m not sure why you like me. I’m not very likable.”
“Maybe it’s because I can see behind your armor. Maybe I always could.”
He nods, biting his bottom lip for a second. “I’d love to get all smooshy and romantic, but right now we need to get out of here.”
“I’m ready.”
Rune lifts his hands again, moving them in a series of intricate patterns. The tattoos on both of us glow bright, and that tingle that’s been there since I met him turns into a vibration. He must feel it, as he looks at me with wide eyes, exhales slowly, then chants an incantation.
The door to the jail flies off, clanging to the ground. I brace for Elvira or any number of goons to come at us, but it’s silent.
Rune holds out his hand to me. “Come on, lover boy.”
I take his hand, and when I do, I’m nearly thrown off my feet by the force of our connection.
Rune’s eyelids flutter. “Hades, this is incredible. I’ve never felt like this. My magic is so palpable.” He shakes his head. “Let’s find our way out.”
Down a narrow, damp hall we find an old stairwell leading upward. It doesn’t look stable enough to hold us both, but Rune takes the steps two at a time, still clinging to me while I try to keep up. He’s fast for a little guy.
The door at the top of the stairway slams open and Elvira is there, her hood back so her face is visible.
“Where is your mistress?” Rune demands waving his hands and lifting Elvira into the air, then slamming her against the nearest wall. “Is she here?”
Elvira shakes her head. “Tonight. She returns tonight.”
“Excellent. You go back to where you came from now.”
Elvira makes a sobbing noise. “Yes. Please. I don’t like this world.”
“In spite of how you treated me, I’ll show you some mercy and make it painless.”
Rune lowers his hand, and instead of falling, Elvira hovers in the air. Rune holds his hands out in front of him and Elvira takes one final breath as her body disintegrates to dust right before my eyes.
Rune pushes past the pile of clothes the animated corpse left behind, but he doesn’t make it far before he stops in his tracks.
“No. This isn’t possible.”
“What’s wrong, Rune?”
“It’s my… my family home. It can’t be real, it has to be an illusion.” He shakes his head. “Come on.”
He grabs my hand again, leading from the stairway in the hall to the front room, but when Rune swings the door open, he slams into an invisible force, falling back into my waiting arms.
“Fuck!”
I reach out and touch the unseen wall. “What is this?”
“It’s blocking me.” He drags a hand through his hair.
“I think I have to accept the one thing I never thought possible. My magic is stronger than it’s ever been at this moment and yet I’m still kept in.
There’s only one source of magic this powerful.
My family. There’s a surviving Delaport behind this. There has to be.”
“Shit. What do we do now?”
“We wait for Mistress to show up. Then it’s game fucking on.”
RUNE
I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve never been stronger in my life, but I still can’t break the magic around me.
When I turn to face the room, I drag in shallow breaths as I finally let myself fully take it in.
It’s completely restored, from the deep burgundy velvet couch to the piano where my brother would play every Sunday for us.
The yellow pillow by the fireplace is there too, where I sat and listened, enjoying my family before I knew what they were.
But none of it’s real, it can’t be. I saw it burn with my own eyes.
I rush out of the room and up the stairs to my childhood bedroom. When I open the door, I stumble back, finding Atlas protectively behind me.
“It’s exactly the same as the day I left... I mean, it’s the way it was before I set the fire.”
“This is your room?”
I nod, bravely stepping inside. The walls are covered with posters of my favorite bands: Panic! At the Disco, David Bowie, and Fleetwood Mac. My credenza, filled with my potions and notes, sits undisturbed, as if I left it yesterday.
Reaching out to touch it, I brace myself for what I might feel, but I wasn’t at all prepared for the experience. My knees buckle as I slump to the floor. Atlas drops with me, tucking his hands under my arms to steady me.
“Rune. What’s happening?”
“It’s ancestral magic. My ancestors.” I shake my head as the only possibility bounces around my head. “It’s someone close to me. Biologically close. But it can’t be.”
“Rune… your sister.”
“No. She had no magic, and even if she bloomed late, she couldn’t possibly be this strong.”
“Okay, I don’t know how any of this works, but couldn’t she have summoned something to help her?”
Of course she could have. Why would I think she wouldn’t try? She is a Delaport, after all, and we aren’t exactly known for being chill.
“I think I have to face the idea that it might be her.” A dark laugh bubbles out of me. “My arrogance got me here. I never even considered that she’d be a threat to me, but the familiar foods, my t-shirt, the things she said. It’s the only reasonable option, really.”
“She’s stronger than you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “She’s siphoning magic from our ancestors, but I made it past most of her magic. I imagine nothing we’re seeing is really here. We’re standing in a burned-down carcass of a house. In fact, I’ll show you. Give me your hand.”
Atlas offers his hand, standing closer to me. I focus all my energy on removing the illusion, but I keep slamming into the ancestral magic blocking me. I try until I can’t anymore, then I slump against Atlas.
“Bitch.”
Atlas rubs my back. “She must have a reason.”
“Of course she does. She probably wants me dead. Fair, really. She doesn’t know that I showed her mercy on purpose. I thought she could have a normal life somewhere else. I guess I was wrong. I might have to kill her.” The realization hits me like a knife to the chest.
“Maybe she isn’t like the rest of them. You’ve never heard of her before now. Wouldn’t you have if she was doing the same stuff your family did?”
I consider that, nodding thoughtfully. “Good point. Regardless, she clearly has a vendetta against me.”
“Yeah.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, but only a few seconds later, I hear the slightest noise coming from the front of the house.
Jumping up, I rush down the hall, followed by Atlas’s heavy footfalls, and fly down the stairs.
I swing the front door open, ready to deal with whatever’s on the other side, but damn, this is not what I was expecting.
“Drax!” Atlas rushes forward. “Mac. Guys. You came.”
Cassius nods, but he has his arms folded across his chest. “We can’t get to you. We made a bunch of noise hoping you’d hear us somehow.”
“How did you find us?” Atlas asks.
“We got ourselves to New Orleans,” Roman says. “And, like, an hour ago, we were hit with the strongest feeling from you. Like a damn tidal wave.”
Atlas and I exchange glances as his cheeks actually turn pink.
“So, we are in New Orleans?” I ask.
“You sure are,” Mac says. “Weird location choice though. Must be pretty rough in there.”
I step forward, trying to lean out and see a bit, but I can’t. “Is there a big wood sign in the yard that says ‘Delaport Estate’?”
“Yep.” Drax nods. “But it’s burned to a crisp. There’s no roof, barely any walls.”
“I knew it. This is all an illusion.”
“That’s not what it looks like to you guys?” Cassius asks.
“No. First it was a jail and now it’s…” Atlas glances at me. “Well, it’s Rune’s childhood home fully restored.”
“Whoa,” Mac says. “Who’s powerful enough to do that?”
“I think, as much as I hate to admit this, it’s my sister.”
“Dude,” Drax whispers.
“Here’s the problem,” Roman says. “You can’t get yourselves out and we can’t get in.”
Atlas grabs my wrist. “What about the black magic witches who helped me before? Do you think they’d be willing to help?”
I rub my forehead with my free hand. “They might be our only option.”
“Guys.” Atlas steps forward. “In the quarter, there’s a group of witches who might be powerful enough to break this spell. They hang out behind Cemetery One. Avoid the Ninth Ward witches.”
“We’re on it,” Cassius says. “Hang tight. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“We don’t have a choice.” I let out a humorless chuckle.
Drax presses against the spell, and I can feel the vibrations not only in the air but on a deep, biological level, confirming my suspicion that the magic is ancestral. “We’ll get you guys out. Don’t worry.”
The sweet demon manages to melt my icy exterior. “Thank you.” It’s soft, but I said it.
He nods, smiling, then we watch them run down the sidewalk until they’re nothing but distant blurs.
“You were right. They kept looking for you.”
“For us,” Atlas says. “Of course they did.” He cups my face. “We leave together or not at all.”
“You might be too good for this world, gargoyle. Certainly too good for me.”
“How can that be true if we’re fated? And we obviously are. I was made for you, or you for me.”
“That’s a very sobering thought. I assumed I’d spend the rest of my life alone. It’s easier that way.”
“Easier, maybe.” His thumb rubs my cheek. “Do you think you could get used to having company?”
“It’s growing on me.”