Chapter 12 #2
“And glad to be rid of it,” Loxley adds, her crude demeanor slightly rubbing me the wrong way.
“There are only so many of us left, and we have better things to do than enchant buildings and jewelry.” She produces a book out of thin air and shoves it at me.
“As agreed upon, these are all the spells we’ve been using. ”
“You’re giving them to me?” I raise an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe anyone would just give up their spells like that.
“As agreed upon, like I said. These spells were contractually made for Lord Deimos, and I have no use for them myself. Now let me show you so we can get this over with. I’ve got things to do.
” She turns her back to us and gazes up at the apartment complex before us—modern and sleek, slightly out of place on the city’s outskirts.
“Page fifty-seven, girl. Make sure you get it, because I won’t repeat myself.”
I hurry to open the book to the indicated page and find all the necessary details for the spell—written in a completely different language but thankfully with added pronunciations and translations.
It’s like learning Elomadh and Eloghyll all over again, I think as I look at it with a frown.
Not that I mind the challenge, but sheesh.
Loxley raises her hands slightly and mutters a few words.
A shift in the air occurs, the scent of earth enveloping me, and the spell becomes visible.
Bright green magical vines envelop the entire building, pulsating with energy.
They spring from the ground, drawing energy from the earth beneath the building and spreading across the surface like a net.
A gasp escapes me, followed by a wide grin at the thought of trying this new kind of magic. The mere idea sends my heart racing.
“This spell”—Loxley turns back to us, her eyes locking onto mine—“prevents any unwanted visitors from entering. It’s one of many that are placed on the buildings.” She snaps her fingers, and the vines disappear, sinking into the walls.
“Everything you might need is written down in this grimoire.” She taps the book with a finger. “It pains me greatly to say this, but you should mix the spells with your own magic. Earth magic isn’t what it used to be.”
Her eyes turn to me, and she holds out her hand. I look at her with a frown, and Loxley snaps her fingers at me. “Your hand, girl.”
I comply, keeping the grimoire open in my other hand. A frown crosses my face as I glance from the witch to Malakai. He nods at me in reassurance, but it does little to ease my unease. Loxley takes my hand, her touch warm and comforting, quite at odds with how stern she is.
“You weren’t born with earth magic,” she explains, “which means it needs to be given to you.”
Given? How—
“This might hurt.”
The tattoos on her skin begin to move, and I nearly flinch away from the earth witch.
They twist and turn around her arms and slowly creep up to my hand.
The moment they touch my skin, a sharp pain shoots through my body, causing me to gasp.
I instinctively try to pull my hand away, but Loxley’s grip is firm.
“Remain still, girl. I’m not doing this to cause you harm,” she says, clearly annoyed by my reaction.
I suck in a breath, my heart racing in my chest as I bite my lip to hold back my whimpers.
The tattooed vines wrap around my fingers, my hand, and my wrist until they reach halfway up my forearm.
It feels wrong—so very wrong. Even when Malakai places his hand in the hollow of my back, I still want to crawl out of my skin, the gesture unable to offer me any kind of comfort.
Everywhere those vines touch my flesh feels like it’s burning.
I bite my lip harder until I taste blood, refusing to cry out.
The vines pull and pulse against my skin, and after a few agonizing moments, they break off where Loxley’s hand touches mine.
She pulls away, and the vines wrap around me further, as if they’re trying to cut off my blood flow.
A flare of magical energy erupts before they fade away, sinking into my skin.
I stand there blinking for a couple of seconds, unsure of what just happened, faintly aware of Malakai dropping his hand.
“It’s done,” Loxley says. “The magic is inside you now. It might take some time before it fully accepts you as its caster, but it shouldn’t give you too much trouble.”
Her eyes snap to Malakai, who is casually observing us with his hands in his pockets. “We’re done here.” It’s not a question but a statement.
Malakai nods, and without waiting for him to say anything, Loxley departs.
“That was… something,” I manage to say, breathing heavily for a moment longer as the earth witch turns a corner and disappears.
“Though this contract had its perks for them, I don’t blame the coven for being glad to be rid of it. There are a lot more inhumans now compared to when they agreed to work for me. It tore at their neutrality. And like she said, earth magic isn’t as powerful as it was in the old days.”
He doesn’t need to explain why. The planet has become overpopulated, overrun with everything but nature. There’s hardly anything left for the witches to draw energy from. Even I can tell that after being back for such a short time.
I snap the grimoire shut with a shaky breath and trace my finger over the symbols engraved in the binding.
The book is gorgeous—the black leather soft, the pages yellowed with age, the text handwritten in dark ink.
The whole thing feels heavy yet comfortable in my hands.
A soft hum rises from it, as if the book is glad I see its beauty.
“Working on all of these different spells… Am I going to need to ask for a raise?”
Malakai wraps his arm around my waist as we start walking back the way we came. “That’s assuming you’re getting paid,” he jokes.
“I have a bank card, so I’m indeed assuming so, yes. If not, I might have to go on strike to demand better working conditions.” I laugh.
“A couple of days on the job and you’re already making demands. Watch it, or I might fire you,” Malakai teases.
I scoff, utterly unimpressed. “And do all of this by yourself? I don’t think so.”
He laughs and raises his hands in defeat. “You’re right. I’d rather you slave away, so a pay raise it is.”
We stop at the coffeehouse from the other day, and while Malakai steps inside for drinks, I choose a table outside in the sun. He returns a few minutes later, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands.
“James sends his regards,” he says while taking a seat and handing me one of the mugs. “He looks forward to working with us.”
“I take it this isn’t the establishment we lost?”
Malakai shakes his head. “It isn’t, thankfully. I rather enjoy this place.”
I nod in agreement, my eyes drifting to the open page in front of me. “This place isn’t warded yet, correct?”
“Not yet,” Malakai confirms. “I’m counting on you for that.”
My finger traces the cover of the grimoire, itching to try out one of the spells. My newfound earth magic hums under my skin in agreement.
“Do you want me to put up a glamor?” I look up at Malakai, blinking. “So you can give it a try?”
I nod, and I feel his magic surround us a moment later. My own sparks in response, and I have to admit I like how I can now feel his magic without him making it so.
I return my attention to the grimoire and flip through the pages until I find a fairly basic, small spell. After a moment of review, I put my hand in front of me, palm facing up. My eyes remain on the open page as I quietly speak the spell.
There’s nothing for a moment, and just when I think I’ve made a mistake, the palm of my hand starts to tingle.
Another second passes, and a sprout shoots out of my skin.
I flinch back, nearly toppling over in my chair.
My reaction makes Malakai laugh while I frantically shake my hand to get the sprout away from me. But it’s not moving, and I curse.
“Mind your tongue, love,” Malakai says, pointing his mug at the ground next to me.
I look down and gasp as multiple sprouts shoot up from the cracks in the sidewalk stones.
“I, I don’t know how to make it stop,” I say, unable to hide the panic in my voice.
More and more sprouts erupt around us, and without me doing anything, they begin to grow into flowers—beautiful white lilies. Suddenly, we’re sitting in a field of them, more and more of them popping up, their scent hanging strong and sweet in the air.
Malakai’s magic expands the glamor to ensure not a single flower escapes. He just sits there, chuckling while I struggle to regain control over the earth magic. And failing miserably, my panic growing with every new flower.
It doesn’t know what to think of me—this strange new person calling upon it.
It feels as though it knows I’m not an earth witch and shouldn’t be using it.
But at the same time, it recognizes me as its caster, leaving the magic unable to decide what to do.
The result is chaos for both me and this magic.
After a few more seconds, sweat beading on my forehead, the sprout in my palm finally disappears. Even if I have no idea how I managed to make it happen, which isn’t comforting at all. It withers away, and the flowers around us follow suit.
I breathe out in relief, looking over at Malakai with wide eyes. “I’m going to need to merge it with my own magic. I had no control whatsoever.” I take a deep breath to steady my voice. One hand closes the grimoire, while the other reaches for my mug.
“Any idea if it’s safe to mix magic?” I ask, taking a sip of the rapidly cooling liquid.
“Earth magic is neutral, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Shouldn’t?”
“Normally, magic users only possess the type they’re born with. You’re the first person ever to gain multiple types of magic from an outside source. So, I’m not certain what may or may not happen from this point forward.”
I honestly don’t know what to say to this. The uncertainty knots my stomach.
“We should head back,” Malakai suggests after a moment. “Tomyla is expecting you.”
I drain the last of my coffee and pick up the grimoire. Touching the book again, its magic sparks against my skin, managing to ease my mind somewhat.