Chapter 32
“You ready, Precious?”
Logan’s concerned expression hadn’t left me all morning. Not when I woke up feeling like crap, or when he joined me in the
shower—not for fun times, but to ensure I didn’t slip and crack my head—or when he guided me through calling on the essence
of the dead.
I now had a magical seal, which resembled a pouch formed by air and water, attached to me and invisible to everyone else.
It trailed behind me, tethered to my magic.
It had been the weirdest sensation, dragging a magical essence between the planes. I’d lost control of the first two, but
by the third attempt I managed to keep and trap the power in the seal. My icy brush with the dead still filled my center,
even as Logan’s heated power wove through mine.
We were now standing in the doorway of Rafael’s headquarters. Businessmen and women bustled around us, without the knowledge
that we were about to break a deadly curse. Logan held all the items required for the counter-curse in his own pocket of magic,
carrying it because I could barely manage to keep myself upright. I’d avoided mirrors this morning, but the gray pallor of
my hands told me all I needed to know.
I was on borrowed time.
We had to end this curse today, or it’d be too late.
Logan didn’t address anyone as we strode inside. There were multiple reception desks between the entrance and the top floor,
where Rafael’s office resided. None of the beautiful women behind those desks said a word as Logan marched through the building.
The look on his face would deter any but the strongest . . . or most foolish.
Rafael apparently didn’t hire either, so we made it to the impressive double doors without interference. Logan’s power slammed
them open, and Rafael, who was seated at his desk, shot to his feet. He didn’t look surprised to see us, since there were
undoubtedly multiple security cameras all over this place. Not that a spellcaster needed such means to feel Logan’s rage.
Still, he did look mildly affronted by Logan’s aggression. “Son,” he said softly, shaking his head, “we are not alone here.”
Except for the pretty redhead assistant outside his office, there was no one else to notice us. “Fix your fucking curse now,”
Logan snarled.
Rafael finally glanced my way, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “She doesn’t look very good, does she? We might be too
late already.”
Logan crossed his arms. “Then we all die, and I’ll be reunited with her in the Eternal Lands, while you live forever in Purgatory
or Hel, because I’ll never let you cross into any plane that offers you peace.”
Rafael’s face darkened, his cheeks mottled with his anger, but Logan didn’t give a fuck. He dumped the invisible bag on the
heavy mahogany desk, releasing his power over it to reveal the items within. “We collected what you require. Now break the
curse before it’s too late.”
The doors to Rafael’s office closed suddenly and he waved a hand to lift the items off his desk.
I kept the essence of the dead with me for now.
He strolled toward a large bookcase along the back wall and pulled out a book.
The shelf popped open to reveal a door, and I cursed at this evil villain getting a cool hidden lair.
An excellent use of his billions, but entirely unfair when he was an asshole and deserved nothing.
Logan grasped my hand and I leaned on his strength to move forward and follow my spellcaster down a set of metal stairs spiraling into a well-lit room. It was lined in iron, the usual to contain elemental
and spellwork. Tables sat in a long row down the middle of the room, with pentacles, candles, and a multitude of other equipment
neatly filling the shelves below.
Damn him. I wanted one of these secret spell room beauties.
New plan: kill the spellcaster and steal his lair.
Logan led me to the opposite side of the tables from Rafael, his expression thunderous. “Start,” he snarled. My mate was losing
control, and if his power was weakening from the curse, there was no indication today.
It was in his dad’s best interest to get moving and fast.
“You’re missing an ingredient,” the asshole said.
Logan’s touch was gentle as he wrapped it around my wrist. “Release the essence, Precious.” His thumb rubbed gently across
my pulse point, soothing me.
Taking hold of the tether, I released it, and Logan guided the pouch toward his father. “It’s good that you didn’t touch this,
son,” Rafael said as he wrapped air around the pocket. “Only those who cast and initiated the curse should have a hand in
essences.”
One could argue that Logan and I had initiated the curse together, but this wasn’t the time for arguing. My legs buckled briefly, but I caught myself before anyone noticed. Or at least I thought I had.
Logan’s chest rumbled as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
Rafael, who appeared to also notice, started moving faster. Pulling forth a medium-sized cauldron, he began the complex counter-curse.
For a few of the steps, Logan had to assist, ensuring that no one screwed up the order of ingredients or the blessings required
to power the spell.
When it was time to add Gran’s bone, Rafael’s face morphed into a mask of rage, tainting him in darkness. “This is the evil
energy of your kind,” he spat at me. “You killed my wife, and you’re going to pay. I’ve decided that as long as I destroy
all reapers from this world, it’s a fair exchange. Mark my words, Paisley Hallistar. I will break this curse, and then I’ll
break you.”
I didn’t even bother to reply, because his threats meant nothing when I was hours from death anyway. Logan also managed to
retain his own anger, at least on the surface, but I felt the tumult of his magic through our bond.
We’d already discussed how we’d fight once the curse was broken, and I’d decided that I’d call on the entire monster world
in Purgatory to keep Logan safe.
When the finger bone landed in the dark mist of the spell, there was a hiss and sparks emerged. The icy magic of reapers buzzed
down my spine, sending tingles to my fingertips.
It felt as if I stood with Gran in this room, surrounded by ancestral magic.
The candles Rafael had lit around the pentacle sparked higher. “Essence is last,” he said, meeting Logan’s gaze. “And the
blood of a spellcaster. I will bleed for this because I bled to start it, binding me to your pretty mate for the rest of her
life. Which won’t be long.”
Logan’s fists clenched as a low growl ripped from his throat, but he didn’t attack. We needed the spell finished first.
Rafael swirled the essence a dozen times clockwise and two times counterclockwise. When it finally settled with the other
ingredients, power swelled in the room until it pressed against my chest and I struggled to breathe. Oiliness coated my skin,
and I could taste the darkness on my tongue. Curses did not gel with our energy, working against natural magic.
A counter-curse was the opposite. The yang to the yin.
“Maybe we should use your blood,” I whispered to Logan.
He jerked forward just as Rafael went to slice his hand, halting his father. “It should be the yang to the yin,” I repeated
my thought with surety. “You need the light to break the darkness.”
Without a single question asked, Logan sliced his palm with magic. “Three drops,” his father shouted, and Logan controlled
the fall of his blood, allowing only three drops to hit the surface.
There was a pause, and I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t fucked it up.
“Revertasia conquestila murdae formin abala. Castisa forrina forla. Paisley Hallistar. Breakista ghilina.” Rafael started to chant, repeating the phrase over and over. Air moved through the room, sending our hair into disarray as
the curse fought against its counter.
Dizziness swept over me, and I fell against Logan. He wrapped his hands around my waist, keeping me upright. My weakened energy
pulsed against the dark tendrils of the curse rooted within my essence. It was deep and insidious, feeding on my power.
Rafael’s voice rose up, those unnatural winds buffeting us with enough force to almost send us sprawling. The curse smashed against the counter-curse, dark and light, two opposing sides battling it out.
“It won’t let her go,” Rafael shouted. “We’re too fucking late.” A chill raced through my limbs at his defeated tone.
Logan’s energy bolstered my own, our connection strong even among the hailstorm of elements and magic. “Don’t stop fighting,
Precious,” he roared, and I doubled down on my effort to pry the curse from my soul.
“You should have used my blood.” Rafael snarled at us. “It’s not sated.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Logan shot back, and I gasped when his power slashed across his father’s chest, cutting so deep I saw
bone. “You can bleed, asshole.”
Rafael never saw the attack coming and he gasped. Then there was another icy brush of magic, and another slice, this one severing
his throat. As the evil spellcaster grasped his neck in a failed attempt to prevent his lifeforce from exiting his body, I
jerked around to stare at Logan.
He shook his head, visibly blanching. “That second cut wasn’t me. The curse took its pound of flesh and magic from the one
who dabbled in the darker arts.”
Rafael slumped forward over the cauldron, his blood seeping into the spell, until we were surrounded by a metallic-scented
wind. There was an explosion, and Logan and I hit the floor hard, my mate covering my body with his own, before everything
went dark.