Chapter 24 #2
“Something I can control,” I said, each word expelled like a curse. “Defensive only. Something that won’t cause unnecessary collateral.”
“Flexibility,” she purred. “Naturally. But what’s that they say about the best defense?”
She pulled one more book free and set it atop the others. This one was black, with uneven pages and protruding, folded, yellowed notes.
She stepped back, watching my face for any signs of uncertainty. “You know the cost, hunter?”
My stomach twisted as I glanced at the shallow dish that still spewed tiny wisps of smoke. “Blood.”
“Right. That spilled from another will yield far more potent results, but your own can suffice, at least in the beginning.” Delilah hesitated. “As for the damage you’ve experienced in the astral realm…”
I tensed, nodding at the books. “Will these make it worse?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I do know your mind has already weakened immensely,” she said, reaching up to brush hair off my face, cool fingertips gliding against my forehead. “Even if you don’t feel it now, be very careful as you proceed. You might destroy yourself trying to save her.”
I raked her up and down, trying to find something disingenuous about the worry in her silken voice.
“Getting soft on us?” I asked, lifting a brow.
To my relief, she took the bait and backed down. “For you and Cliff? Impossible. And who knows, you’re a big, tough guy. Maybe it will be fine. Stranger things have happened.”
I wet my lips, glancing at the door. “Can I ask one more favor? Don’t tell Cliff about this… veiled blood I have. Or Sylvia. Not yet.”
Delilah arched a brow, and the slight lift to the corners of her mouth made my stomach twist. “You’re sorely mistaken if I want to be in the same room as Cliff Everett when you break the news to him,” she said, chuckling.
“I’ll figure out a way to tell them both eventually. I just need a second to wrap my head around all of this. This has been the craziest week of my fucking life.”
Delilah nodded, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze as though to break through any lingering distrust I harbored for her. “I swear, Nowak—I’ll leave you to your privacy.”
I weighed the texts in my arms. How was I going to hide these from Cliff and Sylvia? A problem for later, I supposed. I didn’t anticipate we’d be leaving the safehouse for at least a few days to lick our wounds and regroup—though I’d prefer longer, if Delilah’s patience permitted.
“Why help me?” I asked, unable to shake suspiciousness. She wasn’t like the other witches I’d had the extreme misfortune of meeting, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have an ulterior motive.
“It must be exhausting, being such a stick in the mud all the time.” Delilah shrugged, something gleaming in her gaze that I almost mistook as fondness.
“Helping a pair of doomed, star-crossed romantics is another tick on my penance. Certainly the most entertaining to date. I hope you get what you want, Nowak. But truthfully, I hope more so that Sylvia does.” She shot me a soft smirk, which earned a little laugh from me. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground.”
Before departing, she plucked up a shriveled mushroom cap from a bowl of herbs stored on her workbench and popped it into her mouth as she sauntered off.
Even as her footsteps faded from earshot, my heartbeat plucked up. I set the books down on a desk, flipping through the worn pages of each. A hunter, pursuing the dark arts; I could hardly think of anything more despicable.
Thud, thud, thud. My pulse pounded harder, faster.
Betrayal. Betrayal. Betrayal.
But what did it matter if I was betraying the ideals of hunting that I’d been shaped by? Tammy had already burned that rulebook herself tonight.
I wrestled back the painful clips exchanged with her just hours ago.
No, don’t fucking cry. Don’t think of her glaring at you from the floor of the loading bay like you’re a damn abomination.
Eros probably had men in place to tie up loose ends, even in a contingency. She was probably safe on another transport with Rhett and Cliff’s asshole of a father—what was left of him, anyway.
I let one tome lie open, tracing the spell rune inked on the page: a tri-forked whirl that branched out into interlocking curves.
An eldritch manipulation, the text claimed.
I leaned closer, whispering the first few words of the incantation, even knowing nothing would happen with no blood drawn.
The very taste of the Latin on my tongue felt bitter and strange, but I swore the hair on my arms rose to attention.
Distant or not, maybe that was a sign of the dormant power stirring inside of me.
Maybe my time wielding fae magic in the spectral realm wouldn’t be wasted after all. I almost found myself excited to hold that glowing power in my hand again. Here, in the real world.
A voice carried down the hall, and I flinched like a guilty child.
Cliff’s voice. Shit.
I slammed the spellbook shut and stacked the three of them on the workbench to hide Delilah’s experimentation on my blood. Hopefully, any passerby would assume she always stored those tomes here and think no differently. At least until I could figure out a way to smuggle them out.
And what was I hiding, exactly? A part of me chafed with embarrassment, hiding from my best friend like this. I hadn’t even done anything yet.
He was halfway down the stairs when I caught up to him.
“Nice threads,” I called, jogging to meet him. “Looks like you and Lee could share a closet.”
Cliff glowered at his borrowed clothes and then at the dark joggers and zip-up sweater I was wearing. “How come you got the comfy shit? Lee said he didn’t own any—what did he call it? Clothes that double as a cry for help.”