Chapter 7
The pearlescent potion sits in a shallow slate bowl and glows with the same pure light of Creation as the hair that made it.
An aura of goodness, of wonder, wafts from it in tendrils.
But none of the magic eases the heavy atmosphere in my back room.
Not with Lucas doing his best impression of a corpse while lying unconscious on my worktable.
Dread fills my heart. There are only three drops of the potion. None can be wasted.
My hands are trembling. Exhaustion. Burnout.
Magical overstrain. All battling with each other to ruin my day the most. I reach for a small glass vial of blue, syrupy potion that I purchased from Nora’s apothecary a few months back.
It will steady my nerves, but my fingers are too weak to twist the top off.
“Here.” Jinx takes the calming elixir from me, opening it easily. She fills a dropper, the magic glinting cerulean in the light. My familiar looks at me with those steady, slitted feline eyes. “How many drops?”
I eye the elixir, my unsteady hands, then Lucas’ antidote in the small bowl. “Four.”
Jinx’s eyes narrow. “Your heart could slow to a stop with four. Two.”
I roll my eyes. “Then why ask?”
“Why be difficult? Kneel.”
I try to bend my knees, but my legs give out. My hands slam on the workstation to keep from falling. With a groan, I lower myself to the floor. I tilt my head back and open my mouth like a little baby bird.
The draft is sickly sweet and oozes uncomfortably down my throat.
I click my dry tongue to clear the flavor, nose scrunching.
The effects are immediate. The worst of my trembling dissipates, but my gut clenches painfully, curling my shoulders in to ease the tightness.
Synthetic magic is rough on the body like that.
Jinx was right. Any more and I’d be writhing on the ground at the minimum, comatose or dead at the worst.
With a critical eye, I hold out my hand. It’s still, but I don’t feel steady. I’m going to flinch and miss. I just know it. But with the way Jinx glares at me, there’s no way I’m getting a drop more of the calming potion. Sweat turns my palms clammy and my gaze slides to Lucas.
Jinx’s eyes roll. “For fuck’s sake, get up before he dies.”
The looming threat gives me the strength to find my feet. I roll my shoulders, cracking my neck, then my wrists, and my fingers. “Okay.” The book of Creation floats over to hover before me. “Okay.” I swallow and take a breath. “O—”
“If you say ‘okay’ a third time, I’m going to slap you again,” Jinx growls, blue eyes slitting.
I nod numbly. The fear of failure nearly cripples me, but I push it away.
I already practiced the spell, over and over, until my pronunciation was perfect.
No one can incant like I can. My old room was festooned with ribbons from competitions, and my father looked slightly proud when others complimented him on my performance.
My brother rarely placed. Not with Valen competing for the same medals, and especially not with his sister, Emilia, giving them both a run for their money.
I give Lucas’ too-still body another once-over. I won then. I’ll win again.
My eyes snap up to Jinx. “You’ll need to hold him down.”
Jinx deftly mounts the table, straddling Lucas’ hips and pinning his shoulders. “Like this?”
“More.” Carefully, I scoop up the small bowl containing the antidote and withdraw a fresh dropper. “He cannot flinch. One drop per puncture, and then in the mouth.” My voice cracks. “He’ll writhe.”
Jinx grips Lucas with bruising force. “Ready.”
I take a steadying breath, standing at the top of the table behind Lucas’ head. The two open punctures from the spider’s fangs sit side by side below his collarbone and are still raw and glistening, like his body is unable to begin healing.
The ancient words flow from my lips, my tongue and throat perfectly blending them with my magic.
The air sizzles, the books stilling. Sweet and heady aromas fill the space.
My eyes warm as they begin to glow green.
The antidote hums in response, the magnificence of Creation’s glow intensifying.
I draw up all the liquid into the dropper.
“Stencia.” Release.
A single drop lands in the center of the first puncture. It sizzles, and an acrid stench burns my nose. Lucas recoils.
Jinx throws her strength into him, immobilizing his shoulder with a grunt.
I draw in breath. “Stencia.”
The second drop plops into the other puncture.
Lucas’ eyes snap open and I look down into the all-black depths instead of the familiar warm golden brown.
I nearly stammer, but manage to hold onto the humming flow of incantation.
Alasdair, naked and bleeding on the cold stone floor of the Archweaver archives, opened his eyes only once while I was cursing him.
His Androclaria green eyes were gone, replaced by a matte black that consumed the whites of his eyes.
The same darkness that fills Lucas’ eyes now.
I don’t allow myself the luxury to react. There is no room for error and I shove all memories of my brother away and focus on the task before me. I must save him. There is no other acceptable outcome.
The air is swirling, loose strands tickling my neck. Then Lucas screams.
Only my mastery over magic and my body keeps me from flinching at the unholy sound.
My ears ring and then ache, buzzing out from the high pitch.
He doesn’t stop. Lucas keeps screaming and screaming.
He bucks wildly, but Jinx does not permit more.
Bruises are forming under her grip as she jacks his head back.
He thrashes, breaking out of her hold for a moment.
My heart stops, but I cannot lose pace. Not now. Not when two drops are already in and the third must be delivered within seconds.
Jinx hikes a leg up and nearly breaks Lucas’ arm when she slams her knee down. She twists her hand in his hair, grabbing his jaw, and wrenching back.
The third drop falls into space. “Stencia.”
Jinx flexes as Lucas surges.
The drop lands dead center in the back of his throat.
Magic pulses, my long hair blowing back and tugging free of my band. There’s no sound from Lucas. His back bows, his mouth stretches wide. His muscles and tendons strain. The air sizzles with magic, the chime of a bell echoing in my ears in a continuous, single-pitched ring.
Then the world sucks inward with a whoosh and a gentle mist of sparkling magic clings to the air.
Lucas’ body thumps back on the table and goes lax, his black eyes closing.
The magic settles upon his skin and is absorbed like a sponge, leaving the half-clothed magician slightly glowing. Finally, he dims.
I pant, sweat drenching my forehead and trickling down my chin. The room is blurry and all I can hear are my heavy breaths.
Slowly, Lucas opens his eyes. The black fades away like ink diluting in water until his eyes return to normal. Honey brown irises slide around the room until they land on me. He smiles softly, his voice rasping. “Torment.”
I let out a trembling breath, and my legs give out.
Lucas surges forward, his arm wrapping around my middle.
He cries out in agony, head thrown back, when his weight compresses his injured shoulder.
But he doesn’t let go. He tightens his hold and heaves me forward to stretch out onto the table beside him.
He’s hissing breath, body trembling. Several agonizing moments pass before he grinds out through gritted teeth, “Fucking hell.”
I stare at him, my face near his chest. His bite mark pours blood from him lying on his side. He tries to pull me more on the table, but hisses in pain instead. His body gives out, and he collapses down on his back.
Jinx grabs me before I can slide off the table. My familiar smiles, eyes bright with pride. “You did it.”
I attempt a response, any response, but it’s all too much. My fingers twitch, my pinkie lifting. It slides along Lucas’ hair, snagging on a strand and holding it tightly. I did it.
I don’t remember falling asleep, the exhaustion of my body taking over and pulling me deep into a dreamless slumber. One moment, Jinx is tucking both Lucas and me into my massive bed with dusk darkening the sky, the next sunlight is streaming in through the enchanted windows.
My residence sits above my shop with a winding iron staircase leading up to it in the back of the stacks to dissuade any grimoires from sneaking up.
The main floor of it is simple, an open utilitarian kitchen and living room with an enchanted bay window taking up the bottom floor.
The books here are my personal collection.
They bloom flowers along the massive shelves, vines growing and thickening along the wooden staircase that leads to the open loft where my large bed lies.
All the windows are like the ones in my shop’s back room. Enchanted, except these are set to reflect the outside sky, so I can better track the hours. My perfect sanctuary with my grimoire inventory below to guard the stairs leading to the one and only entrance.
I blink, my body aching horrifically from magical overuse.
My voice is raw and I’m barely able to lift more than a finger.
The books will take advantage of my incapacitation.
They’ll try to sneak through the pocket of reality’s barrier to the human side and wreak havoc on my organization. Those bastards.
My head lolls to the side and my gaze collides with Lucas’. The sun illuminates his slightly too-long hair, his brown eyes even lighter as they glow with it. Lucas, human by blood, still holds a mysterious affinity to the light in a way that I’ve never seen in his kind.
He smiles so beautifully that my breath stops. His soft, husky whisper elicits a tingle across my skin as he reaches over and plucks the lace of my chemise. “Nice nightie, Torment.”
My lip trembles and I burst into sloppy, wet sobs.