Chapter 4 #4
I let Jamillah continue holding my hand.
“You don’t need to bespell me into doing this.
” I leaned in and whispered, “Besides, binding and oath spells don’t work on me.
” Her brows rose in surprise. The other witches may not have heard it, but William, with his preternatural hearing, did.
I glanced at him, and he made a show of making Amelia more comfortable.
His way of signaling that he was ignoring what I’d said.
It was impossible for him to do so, and I was sure he’d file it away to determine later if it was something he needed to address.
“You have my word. I will not dishonor your request. I will repay the debt for your help.” I made promises infrequently, because I honored them unconditionally.
Layla stepped closer, her expression sharp as she studied me with a critiquing eye. “I don’t doubt your immunity to most binding and oath magic, but few can resist ours.”
I was inclined to believe her because the sensation that laced around me was unlike any oath or binding spell Amelia had cast on me.
Those always began with a feathery brush across my skin, lingering for a few heartbeats before fading.
This was different: sharper, more distinct, and incredibly potent.
“We are forever grateful for those who gifted us this great power that exceeds what most have knowledge of.” Layla glanced at Jamillah. The reverence they held for their magic made me confident they’d never exploit it. If she wanted to bind me to a promise, I’d readily allow it.
“Trust Kara at her word,” Layla instructed Jamillah.
Layla’s confidence in my promise held the weight of a binding spell.
Jamillah’s lips curled into a faint smile, and the tingling sensation spiraling over me ceased. Although she was young, she possessed wisdom beyond her years.
“Since we’ve been granted approval to help, I will.
We must act quickly and improvisions must be made.
” She explained that she’d perform a spell that would give the illusion of Amelia’s death, summoning a shadow god.
Then she gave me time to go downstairs and prepare a space for the shadow god to be housed.
Housed. What a pleasant way of describing a prison.
When I returned, she flashed a grin before removing her large hoop earrings and placing them on the nightstand. Layla peered at the young kinborn witch with expectant admiration. Darren’s face was indecipherable. I had so many questions about their practices. But this wasn’t the time.
Working quickly, Jamillah removed small vials from her purse and created a mixture on the mirror of her compact.
“Would you?” She held out her finger to William.
Without hesitation, he leaned in, took it, and pierced her skin with a fang.
A bead of blood swelled to the surface. With trained precision she smeared the drop and the mixture on the earring, whispering an incantation in the same lilting language as earlier.
Warm brown eyes gleamed with an eerie, frost-lit glow.
The air was charged with a heavy, intangible magic and energy.
Darren and Layla watched silently, their expressions showing varying degrees of apprehension and pride as Jamillah changed the mundane piece of jewelry into a magical charm. Sigils wound around it and an illuminated gossamer dome formed over the shimmering symbols. Magic hummed from the object.
The witches quickly ushered me downstairs to the prepared location. Jamillah surveyed the area, her lips curled into a half-smile.
“I’m not fond of caging anyone,” I explained. “If I’m forced to do so, at least I can make sure they’re comfortable.”
Shadow gods were just doing their job. Keeping order in the magical world. I’d just placed a cog in the system’s wheel.
The witches had made their way to the front door when Jamillah provided me with precise instructions.
“Before we leave, I will initiate the spell that will trigger Amelia’s quasi death. Cirrian should appear in minutes within the ward.” Like me, she danced around the word imprisonment. “Crush the dome when you’re ready to release Cirrian from the containment.”
“Cirrian,” I whispered. A name. Having his name made him seem far less ominous. It contradicted all the stories that the shadow gods were women. The myriad stories from those snatched from the brinks of death always reported seeing a woman. Or perhaps it was just who they saw.
“It’s good to know death’s purveyors,” Darren said, his keen eyes answering the question that must have been clear on my face. They were a wealth of knowledge. I wanted to learn everything I could from them.
While the trio completed the final steps of the spell, I sprinted upstairs to check the migration of the markings. They were in the same spot. I hadn’t received an update from Walden on whether he’d gotten in contact with Vina. Jamillah’s spell was my best hope.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” William asked from the room’s entrance. “You’re essentially planning to trap death.”
“I’ll release him if he promises to leave Amelia alone.”
William’s lips pressed into a stern line. “You’re going to trap death and bargain with him?”
I squared my shoulders and lifted my head in a totally fake show of confidence. His summation made the plan sound bat-shit crazy.
“What other options do I have? We have no idea how long the Heartsoil charm will work. You saw what happened to Darren when he attempted to find the curser.”
My mind tried to recall the last person who’d passed us. Him hiding his face hadn’t seemed intentional at the time, but now it seemed suspicious. I struggled to recall identifying characteristics but came up empty. I was sure he was the one who’d unleashed the curse.
I couldn’t dedicate my full energy to all the other thoughts and questions that surfaced. Someone wanted to curse me, and I didn’t know why. They wanted my magic and me dead. I couldn’t get the man who’d turned his head from me out of my mind.
“If Amelia’s coven finds the person responsible for the curse, are you willing to do what may be necessary to break it if they are unwilling to remove it?”
William’s expression was blank, but his tone was soft and concerned. His eyes searched my face for an answer that didn’t come immediately.
“If they won’t lift the curse, I’ll kill them,” I asserted eventually.
William simply nodded. “And Cirrian. Do you think he’ll be forgiving once he’s released?”
I sucked in a sharp breath as he voiced an issue I’d already considered. What exactly would I say? “Sorry about the imprisonment. My bad. But my friend is safe now, please take these parting gifts as an apology.”?
“It’s a wrongful death. He’ll understand,” I said.
William glowered, his eyes dragging over my face and inspecting my expression. It made me stand taller and present more faux bravado. Perhaps Cirrian was more benevolent than rumor made the shadow gods out to be. After all, they were wrong about the gender.
“If anyone can diffuse the situation, it’s you,” he assured with a faint smile that didn’t make it to his troubled eyes. It was a simple comment of assurance and placation. I wondered if he’d start working on my replacement once he returned home.
My hand covered Amelia’s as I offered reassurances I hoped she could hear.
“I will fix this. I promise.”