Chapter 12 #2
My mind snagged on her description. “Peculiar witch.” “Dark witch.” Could she be describing a draveth?
Years of searching for the clandestine group of witches who’d effectively hidden their existence so well they’d achieved myth-like status, and Corrine could be the key to finding them.
Was it possible that my would-be assassin had crossed paths with Corrine and become a victim of her penchant for “acquiring” powerful objects?
I had so many questions and despised the time constraint that prevented me getting more details.
Corrine was proving to be a treasure trove of untapped information.
She could even be my pathway to the Spellrend and gaining my magic.
I returned to noticeable tension between Diehle and Cirrian. Their eyes were locked and lips curled into vicious snarls. Cirrian’s tightly coiled stance looked like he was ready to pounce. Diehle broke the stare, tearing his eyes from the shadow god. His brow cocked with inquiry.
“The grimoire is yours,” I told him.
“Then I agree to you obtaining the Balic fig.”
My instincts prickled at his wording. It wasn’t an exchange agreement. I glanced over my shoulder, taking notice of Cirrian’s rigid stance. His set jaw twitched, demanding to be relaxed. His deep amber eyes were a thundercloud of emotions.
“You two good?” I asked. They definitely weren’t, but I didn’t have the time or mental space to mediate a squabble. Especially since I didn’t want to have to deal with them, either. And Cirrian’s presence—which was for his entertainment—was just the cherry on top of this toxic cake.
“We’re fine. Whatever deal you have with Cirrian seems to have relegated him to the role of your protector as well. A far departure from his reported position as a ‘hater.’ Or was I mistaken?”
Cirrian’s level of certainty and dominance appeared to offend Diehle. If the situation escalated, it could cause me problems. I didn’t have time for this demon and pseudo-demon drama.
“He’s not my protector and I don’t want to deal with him any more than I want to deal with you. But I’m in a position where I have to deal with you both.”
Diehle grinned.
“Can we continue?” I pressed.
He nodded.
“I don’t have the grimoire with me, but I will provide it in the next forty-eight hours. And will sign a contract to that agreement.”
Diehle laughed and gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Of course you will. We are beyond pinky swears, promises, or any other form of honor system.”
Closing his eyes, his body grew rigid. A thick mist spiraled over him. When it dissolved, he was holding the vellum and pen from his gothic room.
He used one of his talons to scribe over the paper in a mixture of black and red, then handed me the agreement to read. The metallic scent of blood wafted off the paper. Diehle handed me the pen.
“Read the contract carefully before taking the pen, Kara,” Cirrian advised softly.
Diehl hissed, his ruby eyes flaring with anger. “Your input is not required,” he pushed out through gritted teeth.
Several beats passed before Diehle was able to rein in his anger.
Taking Cirrian’s advice, I ignored the pen and took the proffered agreement.
It simply indicated that I had forty-eight hours from the time the contract was signed to gift Diehle the grimoire.
In doing so, I’d be given one opportunity to obtain the Balic fig.
I read over the last part several times.
“What do you mean by ‘one opportunity to acquire the Balic fig’? Is it safe to assume that this isn’t a simple exchange and you won’t be handing the fig over to me?”
“As it is written, I will provide you with the opportunity to get the fig. If you don’t succeed, that is not my concern. I’ve fulfilled my obligation by giving you the opportunity. It is up to you to make the best of the opportunity.”
“You’re getting the grimoire, I just get an opportunity?”
“That’s the agreement.”
I looked over at Cirrian, and for the first time since Diehle had given me the contract, his severe stare, usually reserved for me, was firmly on Diehle, who returned it with the same fierce intensity.
While they were having a glare-off, I made my way through the house to look at the backyard again, examining the beautiful landscape with new purpose, looking for potential threats or obstacles I’d missed during my previous casual perusal.
Two massive gargoyle statues flanked the stone landing, their granite faces frozen in eternal snarls. I caught myself studying their eyes for signs of life. Knowing that they were inanimate meant nothing when dealing with a demon. Because that could easily change.
My mind cycled through everything I knew about demons: strong magic with the ability to perform spells.
Their dark magic could mimic and overtake a witch’s magic, twisting their spells and magic until it mirrored theirs.
Like parasites, it forced the witches to rely on a connection to a demon if they ever wished to use their magic again.
Demons’ animancy abilities could force werewolves to shift into their animal form so demons could control them.
Their link to necromancy gave them a similar control over them.
I considered the various ways demon magic could affect me.
I didn’t have witch magic that could be taken over.
Humans were technically animals, but there were no reports that demons could control humans like they did werewolves.
Despite how my dubious magic affected vampires, I wasn’t one.
It was comforting that my identity as an ashinwa might be an advantage against demon magic.
Redirecting my attention to the yard, I plotted a path to the Balic tree.
A haphazard trail of rough stones on the murky pond offered a passageway to the other side.
But I’d have to contend with whatever beneath the surface was causing the water to ripple and churn between the stones.
I tested the first stepping stone with my foot, then the second.
Both were anchored and sturdy. Water hemlock twined within moss on a few selected stones.
From my knowledge, water hemlock was poisonous when ingested, and I couldn’t figure out their purpose on the stones.
An alternative route was to my left, which provided a shorter pathway to the tree, but I’d have to navigate through the cluster of dense trees with gnarled branches that twisted, contorted, and obstructed the ridiculously narrow pathway that curved out of view.
I could only hope that path would lead me to my target and not deep into a woodland labyrinth masquerading as a suburban backyard.
The path to the right was less obstructive and far more beautiful.
It was also unusually narrow, but its appearance was less foreboding.
The trees boasted subdued green leaves complemented by intermingling glowing wildflowers between the gaps of the rough slate stones that made up the trail.
Unlike the left pathway, I could see the end.
A beautiful gazebo was adorned with black flowers that crawled over the exterior, making it look simultaneously inviting and unsettling, as if designed to distract rather than comfort.
The complementing urn-shaped fountain was illuminated, spilling murky rivulets of water like the pond.
A reminder that its facade of beauty masked pitfalls.
The padding of footsteps behind me interrupted my exploration. Diehle and Cirrian possessed the ability to move in relative silence, so I figured the louder steps were meant for my benefit. It was unnecessary. The deity and demon commanded attention. They couldn’t be ignored even if I wanted to.
Choosing the pathway to the left looked shorter but was possibly more treacherous.
The pond route was a gamble: the uneven and varied heights of the stepping stones could make navigation tedious.
I would probably have to contend with whatever kept disturbing the water.
The right path was beautiful, but its simple allure felt deceptive.
Especially the black mist in the gazebo that appeared sentient, sporadically gathering to form a vague figure before dispersing.
And I’d still have to go through a narrow passage.
Being in the open gave me an advantage, and I’d rather not have to deal with anything that might be lurking in the dense foliage in either direction.
Searching my pocket for a pen, I found the compact one I always kept with me. Diehle stopped me before I could sign the agreement, as I suspected he would.
It was worth a try.
“Use my pen,” he said.
“I’d prefer mine.”
Annoyance flashed over his face. Don’t piss off the demon, Kara. I knew there was a reason he wanted me to use his pen, and I wasn’t looking forward to discovering why.
On his second insistence, I palmed the pen. The pulse of magic from it made my fingers tingle.
Once my signature was complete, the pen pricked me, and blood rolled down the pen onto the paper and emblazoned my name. Magic coiled around my wrist like a ribbon, binding me to the agreement.
I was disappointed in my oath-binding immunity. What use was it when it couldn’t prevent me from being oath bound to the worst of magical beings?
“Excellent,” he said, taking the contract from me and rolling it into a scroll. “I can hold your jacket or you can place it there.” He pointed to a stone bench next to the house. “Or perhaps your protector will keep it for you?”
“I plan to keep it with me.”
His frustrated glare felt crushing as he kept his hand extended, waiting for me to relent.
“You can’t possibly believe I’m going to let you keep your arsenal of weapons with you?” he scoffed.