Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Roz was stalling.
They’d spent a wonderful day in the woods, trying every type of food she could think of. They lazed under the afternoon sun, soaking up the last bits of warmth before fall descended. There was no rush, no hurry, no threat of a tether that would eventually fade.
At least with the curse broken, he could cross over and not be stuck in that purgatory anymore.
He could see his family, his friends, his old lover.
The last thought sent a jolt of jealousy through her.
She’d never had someone claim her before like he had in the bakery, and it cemented something inside her.
She really, really liked Alaric, and she really, really wished he’d let her use her blood to tether him. But she had to respect his wishes, even if she thought they were just him being a stupid man.
The sun dipped below the horizon as they returned home and gathered the things needed to break the curse. She’d double- and triple-checked it all, even passed it by Aunt Selma, just in case.
“I think the cemetery is the best place,” Roz said. “Near your gravestone.”
“You mean my monument?” Alaric asked.
“The very one,” Roz confirmed. “Best would be where you died.”
“Second best, it is,” Alaric said.
They moved slowly through the cemetery, each carrying a few of the items needed. Roz’s blood hadn’t worn off yet, and she wondered how long it would take. How long until Alaric couldn’t touch anything? How long until he faded away?
Stubborn, ridiculous man.
Maybe he’d change his mind? She’d try not to be too smug.
They stopped before the statue, both staring up at his face.
“You know, there was a few-generation stretch where my statue was decorated for the seasons. A wreath for Yule, flower crown for Beltane. It was nice to be included. When they stopped, I worried I’d been forgotten.
Sometimes years pass and I visit the museum and wonder if they’ll have removed every trace of me.
If this statue fell over, would they rebuild it? ”
“I thought you were a scoundrel that didn’t deserve the attention?”
“Oh, I was. Doesn’t mean I don’t like a monument to myself.”
“If it falls down in my lifetime, I’ll make sure they rebuild it…with less artistic license.”
“Artistic license? What does that mean?”
“Like the portraits of royalty, they made them look better than they did in life. I’ll make sure the new one is more accurate.”
Alaric narrowed his eyes at her. Before he could say anything, she wagged her finger. “We only have a few more minutes before the moon starts to rise, we have to get started.”
“I’ll remember that comment later,” he mumbled.
But how much later did they have? Roz tried not to think of it as she drew her circle in the dirt at the base of the statue with her finger.
She mumbled the words she’d memorized under her breath, casting the circle in practiced, methodical movements.
Alaric leaned against his statue, arms crossed over his chest.
Roz double-checked everything before looking up at him. “Ready?” she asked. He watched her for a few long moments before nodding.
“Alright, step into my office.” She opened her arms to the circle. Alaric stepped over it, shivering once inside.
“I can feel the magic,” he said.
“It’s the perfect time,” Roz said, pointing to the moon peering over the horizon. The moon was little more than a sliver, such a delicate thing on such an ominous night.
Alaric sat across from her, his crossed knees touching hers. “Hold out your hand,” she said.
He obeyed without question. She placed a candle in his palm, surrounded by obsidian and amethyst. She lit the candle by pinching the wick with her fingers, infusing it with her magic.
“I light this candle to brighten the night, to unmask evil despite its might,” she intoned. Next, she lifted some of the hair, bringing it to his palm.
“Rocks of the earth, with powers that run deep, absorb the evil, don’t let it keep.” The crystals vibrated in Alaric’s palm, bumping against each other as they moved.
“Woven threads, a curse from long ago, your power is gone, you are no worthy foe.” She brought the hair to the flame. It sizzled and smoked, curling to nothing against the flame.
“Woven threads, now come undone, this curse is broken, the length has run. I sever you now, I banish you far, your hold is no longer, so mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” Alaric echoed. The flame extinguished, the rocks stopped their movement.
The hair on the back of Roz’s neck stood on end a moment before a fierce wind ripped through the cemetery.
It blew the candle and crystals from Alaric’s palm, kicking up the grave dirt she’d disrupted drawing her circle.
Roz shielded her eyes from the flying particles, ducking her head as the wind whipped around them. Her ears popped at the sudden drop of pressure, of the shift in the earth. How powerful was that curse? she wondered as goosebumps spread across her arms.
“Rosalin,” Alaric said. Something in his voice made her uncover her face to look at him.
He was no longer wearing the outfit he’d changed into, he was back in his robes. The dried blood and bruises were back, coloring his face. Roz could see the outline of his statue through him, his body more transparent than she’d seen it.
“Alaric?” she asked. He reached for the crystals, unable to pick them up. His body jolted suddenly, thrust back six inches by some invisible force. “Alaric!” she cried, diving for him. She reached for his hands, only for her hands to fall through them.
The tether. How had that been severed? She was intentional with what she chose—crystals to absorb a curse, the hair of the culprit, his intention.
Alaric shifted back another six inches, his eyes wide.
She thought they’d have more time. She thought they’d break the curse, have a few days. Maybe he’d get over his silly reservations about using her blood to keep him here. Or maybe they’d grow apart, torn by the impossibility of being together. Whatever the outcome, she thought they had time.
She so desperately wanted that time. But she had to respect his wishes, she couldn’t force him to stay. There would be no later, there was only now.
A tear trickled down her cheek and she swept at it quickly, not wanting him to see her distress. She waited for him to close his eyes, to accept his fate, to smile, to pass peacefully.
But the look on his face was anything but peaceful. He tried to stand, tried to move against the invisible current that pulled him backward. His mouth opened, his words fading in and out as he jolted back another foot. “I’m…not…ready…” he said.
“Neither am I,” Roz said. She stood and marched toward him, pulling out a pocketknife she’d stashed in her pants.
In the end, Roz was an optimist, hopeful that Alaric would want to stay.
That he would ask her to strengthen the tether, or even anchor him.
She brought the knife so there would be no question where she stood.
She sliced a thin line down her palm, just deep enough for the blood to well. No measly drops this time, she needed enough for something solid. Alaric reached for her, his hand outstretched. She clasped his palm in hers, sighing at how solid it was.
He flew back another foot, his grip slipping from hers. He dug his fingers into the dirt, leaving tracks as he slid across the ground. She dove for him, grabbing both his hands, hauling him toward her. He dug in too, crawling in the dirt, dragging himself back to her.
“I’m not letting go,” she said, even as her strength faltered. The blood, the force of the pull, it was too much. Spots erupted around the edges of her vision. She shook her head to clear them, focusing on Alaric.
“The tether isn’t strong enough,” Alaric grunted, bracing against another wrench from the other side.
“I’ll give you more blood…” she started.
“You’re already hurting,” he said. He managed to pull himself upward, kicking off whatever dragged him backward.
He knelt now, his hands cupping her face.
“I can’t keep taking from you. The truth is, I’ll never be ready to leave you.
I’ll haunt you until you’re old, and when you finally cross, I’ll be there.
I’d take the curse again if it meant being here to watch you, even if you can’t see me. ”
He wrapped his arms around her as the force tried to pull him again, but his grip faltered. He was losing his solid form again, becoming more and more translucent. The blood wasn’t holding. The tether was too weak.
“There’s another way,” she breathed. He pulled back to look at her, his gaze searching hers.
“I couldn’t ask that of you,” he said softly.
“Then don’t,” she replied and closed her eyes, summoning all her strength. “Stay.”
She’d memorized the spell, recited it over and over under her breath. If the moment came, if he asked it of her, she didn’t want to mess it up.
She spoke the ancient words, digging deep inside herself for the magic. She felt for Alaric, trying to grab the makeup of his soul. It was so easy to find, like he was waiting for her.
He was firm yet soft, the playful smile before a bout of mischief. He was loving and warm, a protector of not just herself, but the town. She focused on his soft kisses, the eager way he pleasured her, the line between his brows when he concentrated.
Shouldn’t it be hard? She’d never done this before, she had no one to teach her, and yet finding him was so simple. In the darkness behind her eyes, he was the one flicker of light, the shelter in a storm.
She closed her fingers around him, around his essence, and tugged.
He didn’t resist.
She pulled him into her, anchoring them together. It wasn’t her heart, it was somewhere deeper, somewhere more profound. His soul slipped into hers, intertwining like their fingers when they held hands. She couldn’t tell where she ended and he began, and she didn’t want to.
She was dimly aware of the outside world, of the cemetery. Her senses returned little by little. The wind died down, the dirt from the grave no longer buffeted her face. Something warm and solid held her close, smelling of dried blood and sweat.
Her eyelids flickered open, only to meet the penetrating dark brown of Alaric’s. He was bruised and bloodied, but he was there. He was whole.
Then she passed out.