Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“This is silly,” Roz said, staring at the dead plant.
“Absolutely. It doesn’t need blood, it needs water and sunlight,” Alaric said.
Roz glared sideways at him. He smiled back good-naturedly.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” Roz pricked the tip of her finger with a needle, squeezing the pad of her finger until a drop of blood collected there. Then she let it fall onto the plant.
They both leaned forward, staring at the dead plant.
Nothing happened.
“Does it say anything else?” Alaric asked, shifting to look at the old grimoire. It lay open to the page about the trials, which were short and didn’t include much information. Did they expect future necromancers to just pass the information along?
“No,” Roz said, starting to stand. Alaric grabbed her wrist suddenly. “Wait, look.”
The plant was no longer dead. Sometime between when she looked down and when she glanced back up again, it transformed from a collection of dead, sagging leaves to something upright and green.
Alive.
“It worked!” Roz said.
“Of course it would,” Alaric replied.
“What happened to ‘it needs water and sunlight’?”
“It still needs that, lest it die again. Come, let’s put it on the windowsill.
” Alaric tried to grab the plant, but his hands moved through it.
It seemed his ability to touch things were limited.
While he was able to undress her and bring her to multiple orgasms, his grasp on the rest of the corporeal world was flimsy at best.
“I got it,” Roz said, taking the plant to the windowsill in her kitchen.
She paused at the sink, lightheaded from standing so quickly.
The exhilaration of the magic must have gotten to her.
All those years of being seen as less than by her family, and now she was suddenly capable of magic that hadn’t been seen in generations.
It was a lot.
“One trial down,” Alaric said.
They tried a few more experiments that afternoon, all of which she failed at. She couldn’t heal a wound (her fingertip bled until she put a bandage on it), ill people didn’t recover (they visited a hospital—though maybe it needed more time?), and she couldn’t reanimate animals.
That night, they cuddled on the couch and watched movies, and Roz was struck by how normal it felt. Maybe having a ghost for a boyfriend wouldn’t be so bad?
The next day, she paged through the trials, considering her options. They all felt so small, like she was eight years old again, being asked to meditate and sit still instead of play outside. She wasn’t a child anymore; she should try something bigger.
“Which one are you trying today?” Alaric asked. Despite the fact they were creeping toward the Pumpkin Festival, he seemed unbothered, unhurried. He hadn’t asked again about the curse, or how she planned to lift it. He just…trusted her.
That morning Alaric watched her work in the cemetery, unable to help as he had previously. He couldn’t hold things for long, something she knew was frustrating him despite him not mentioning it.
She’d read more about blood magic, devouring everything she could within the short few chapters that mentioned it. Then she went on to the tether, trying to understand it more.
Tethering was temporary, a lifeline extended to the other side to bring a spirit to this world. Alaric could touch her because he was tethered to her, their connection strong because of her blood. But the tether would weaken if not reinforced, and he’d slip back into the state of a ghost.
Today she wanted to reinforce the tether. It was a type of blood magic, though some necromancers without the skill could do it. She’d just have an easier time, since she needed only to pull from herself.
“Not a trial,” she said carefully. “A…reinforcement.”
“Of the tether?” Alaric asked.
Of course he understood without explanation.
She’d double-checked the limited information about the tether and confirmed that it didn’t connect souls or hearts or emotions—just the physical.
Her attraction to him, his ability to understand her intimately, and his attraction to her, were all organic.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“Alright,” Alaric agreed.
“More than a drop of blood this time,” she said.
“A drop was plenty before,” he said.
“And it wore off quickly.”
“You can still see me, I can still touch you. That is all that matters to me,” he said. “Though I do enjoy being helpful.”
“Then consider it an experiment—does more blood last longer? Franny seemed to think the tether could only be so strong, but she said nothing about how long it could last.”
“Because she didn’t know,” Alaric said. “Does the book say anything? About a stronger tether?”
It did, but Roz didn’t want to talk about that.
“Are you ready?” she asked instead of answering his question.
He nodded, though he watched her curiously.
Roz pricked the tip of her finger several times, squeezing until her finger was covered in a thin sheen of blood.
She brushed her finger across the back of his hand, painting a single line across it.
Alaric took Roz’s hand in his and brought her finger to his mouth, kissing it softly. A bit of her blood lingered on his lips before his tongue snaked out to it.
“I can taste it,” he breathed.
“My blood?” she asked, breathless.
“Yes. I haven’t been able to taste anything in…” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. “Are you okay?”
“Overwhelmed, I think,” she said, her voice still airy.
“No, you look pale...”
She blinked at him a few times, the corners of her vision darkening slightly. She shook her head to clear it. “I haven’t been getting much sleep,” she said.
“That’s not what this is. Franny said it—there is always a cost. A price. And the book warned about vitality.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.
“It’s already passed,” Roz said, though she wasn’t sure if she could stand just yet. Her eyelids were heavy, and she knew if she stayed on the couch much longer, she’d fall asleep.
This was the difference between intent with her blood magic and excess. When it spilled out from disuse, she felt nothing, but now? Using it intentionally, often? The toll was immediate and obvious.
“You still don’t look well,” Alaric said. “I don’t need to be that corporeal, especially if this is the cost. I told you, I am happy to remain able to touch you and you alone.”
“It’s fine,” Roz said, putting her hand on his. “It was just a little dizzy spell. Who’s to say it’s even from the magic? Maybe I’m coming down with something?”
“I will not allow you to injure yourself for my vanity,” Alaric said, his voice even.
“It’s a pinprick—”
“Rosalin.” His voice was curt, borderline cold. “I refuse to be the reason you fall ill, or don’t live as long, or whatever else the cost of this magic is. This experiment is over.”
She blinked at him, taken aback. “I can make my own choices,” she said.
“As can I. You may be happy to bleed for those around you, but I will not allow you to suffer for it. If you want to test the other trials, find out more about your magic, I will stand by your side and cheer you on. But I will not take from you any more than I have.” He crossed his arms over his chest to emphasize his point.
“Okay,” Roz said after a few moments. Why wouldn’t he let her help him? It was just a few drops of blood, a little wooziness. It was mostly past now, and she just felt…tired. Like she’d been pulling weeds all day.
“What other trials are there?” Alaric asked, reaching for the grimoire. Roz caught the smile he hastily suppressed as he grabbed the book and hauled it into his lap. He flipped the page and paused, reading the words.
It took Roz’s tired mind a full twenty seconds before she realized what he was reading. There was no use in pulling the old book away from him, then it would be obvious what she’d been neglecting to tell him.
“Anchoring,” he read, his gaze darting up to her. “Have you read this?”
“A little,” she admitted, leaning over the book. In truth, she’d committed the entire paragraph to memory.
Tethering is a temporary process. Anchoring is permanent.
While a tether allows a spirit into this world, it does so under conditions.
A tether may be strengthened, but it will fade, and the cumulative cost will be too great.
Anchoring is a permanent bond that can only be severed by the death of the living.
An anchor brings the living closer to the world of the dead, and the dead closer to the world of the living.
Necromancers already live within this realm, so the cost is not as great as a common witch or a human.
An anchor means a shorter lifespan, and it means the spirit will age as well.
It will be as if the spirit is alive once again.
Beneath, it explained the exact process, which Roz had memorized as well. She chewed her lip as Alaric read the passage once more.
“I’ve heard of this. Once, in passing. A woman lost her husband and begged one of the Graves women to do it. They said it was a myth, that it didn’t work.” He tapped the passage lightly. “They were protecting her.”
Alaric stared at the passage for another long moment before closing the grimoire and putting it back on the table. Roz stood, glad that her legs didn’t give out, and filled a glass with water at the kitchen sink. She took several long swigs, then filled it up again to water the plant on her sill.
It was dead.