by Cate Corvin
“I hope so, sunlight.” Locke pulled me into a deep kiss, putting all his fervor into it and nearly driving me out of my mind.
He might hope, but I knew it was a fact.
Chapter 17
Lu
“Just hold still, dammit!” I plopped Demonseed in the middle of the circle with a spoonful of tuna.
He glared at me and flopped on his back, aiming his ass right at the pile of fish.
“You might be the world’s most ungrateful almost-familiar,” I muttered darkly. He made a sound without blinking those huge orange eyes. Mrrt.
After we’d come to a standstill against Locke, the guys and I had gone our separate ways for the night. The way Roman had looked me over hungrily before we parted was still sending chills over me, but thanks to the mandatory break on sleuthing, I had time to take care of the magical ritual that would bind Demonseed to my soul.
I wouldn’t allow a few gorgeous therianthropes to get in the way of my current project, even if they had spent all day surrounding me in Exorcism and Conjure and waiting for me outside Divination with appealing identical grins.
An ancient leather-bound book, On the Binding and Harnessing of Familiars, was open and bookmarked on my bed. I’d drawn a perfect circle, complete with sigils, in red chalk on my bedroom floor. Black pillar candles flickered at the point of each cardinal direction. A silver knife laid outside the circle.
The door was locked, bolted, and charmed. I needed a complete lack of interruption.
“When this is done, you and I will be as one,” I told the kitten. He didn’t seem impressed. “That means I’ll be able to hitch a ride in your brain and look through your eyes, according to this book.”
Demonseed yawned and went to sleep.
“I’m glad you’re excited, too.”
I flipped through the book and finished my preparations, a scuff of chalk on a sigil here, a quartz crystal there.
When I was done preparing the circle, my bedroom looked like an insane witchy scrapbookers’ bomb had gone off in the middle. No wonder most witches didn’t bother with formalized rituals anymore.
I stepped into the circle and sat on the Witch’s Finger sigil, propped the book outside with the incantation facing me, and picked up the silver knife.
I said the first three lines of the chant, incomprehensible syllables that buzzed against my lips.
Demonseed woke up instantly, his fur puffing around him like the clock of a dandelion as the air began prickling with magic. I repeated the initial chant, and he stepped onto the Familiar’s Sigil.
So far, so good.
With the connection between us opened, the chanting grew lower, the bonding magic flowing between us. My vocal cords dropped into a sound that was such a low frequency a human wouldn’t be able to hear it… but I felt it, reverberating through my chest, inside Demonseed, and rattling against the walls.
I didn’t have to look at the book anymore, the words beating inside my mind like a bird fighting to get out. I wasn’t sure I was even drawing breath anymore, or if the words were speaking themselves.
Demonseed was more than a kitten now, glowing like fire in my mind’s eye, reaching out to me in turn. His mind felt like a spasm, the urge to run, dig claws into everything, to climb the dresser… all impulse and no forethought. He wanted to hunt and run.
I fed myself back into him, linking our minds together with magic, and jabbed the point of the silver knife into my fingertip.
When the blood had welled into a large bead, I swiped it across the Familiar’s Sigil, and the rest across the Witch’s Finger I sat on.
I had no conceivable idea of how long the ritual took, but when the chant finally stopped, the last reverberations dying out, I blinked.
Demonseed blinked as well, and I felt it.
His ear was itchy. I reached out and scratched it for him. “Dang, that does feel good,” I muttered.
Something tickled inside my mind, and I realized I was feeling his emotions. It was a strange mix of pleasure, gratitude, and… searing scorn?
That seemed about right.
The book was pretty clear about how this worked: at first, the connection would be tenuous, but as we spent more time in each other’s minds, we would grow to learn how to communicate openly. Over time, familiars gained higher intelligence as they bonded with their witches.
Some familiars were even said to learn to speak mind to mind on a basic level. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go that far, but I also wasn’t sure that I had much of a choice now.
The ritual was done, and there was no going back without shattering poor Demonseed’s mind or my own.
“Wanna go outside?” I opened the window.
Demonseed hopped onto the sill, his tiny pink nostrils flared, and I was immediately assaulted by a mental picture of the gardens, the roses, damp earth, and other, less pleasant things stronger than I’d ever smelled them myself.
Go on, I thought, reaching through our faint, fluttering bond, and Demonseed’s tail flicked. He hopped out into the rose garden.
I sat down, braced my back against the wall, and closed my eyes, mentally fine-tuning my magical wards until only the barest hint of sensation came through from Demonseed’s end. If I had to feel every one of his senses in addition to my own, I’d go insane within an hour.
Luckily, tuning him out was easy enough. It took me a little longer to project myself through the bond, but eventually I managed to wedge myself in his head, and I was suddenly seeing from Demonseed’s point of view.
He streaked across the field, cutting through blades of grass like a gray missile until he reached the edge of the forest and stopped short.
Every hair on his tiny body bristled. The forest smelled like deep, dark undergrowth and danger… but also like home. The kitten was conflicted. He remembered the smell of the wolf who had scooped him up in his jaws.
He won’t hurt you, I whispered in his mind, sending warm feelings of love and affection.
Demonseed steeled himself, his fur lying flat again, and plunged in.
His worst fear came true when a titanic being slipped from the shadows, his paws thundering on the earth. My breath caught in my own lungs as I gazed up at Roman through Demonseed’s eyes, my own awe entangled with the kitten’s primal panic.
Ice blue eyes that looked beautiful to me looked like ice-cold death to my familiar. He poofed up again, even though Roman could easily fit five kittens in his mouth.
I tried to send soothing pulses to my familiar, but he hopped back and forth while hissing at the wolf, his body turned sideways and back arched.
Roman sat down and watched him, his head cocked to the side.
Leave him. Follow the shadows into the garden.
Demonseed was skeptical of the command, but he finally flicked his tail at Roman and darted into the forest again.
The sun was already setting, casting the edges of the wall with velvety darkness. We realized Roman was following us at the same time, and my heart jumped when Demonseed made a siren-like sound.
This time the kitten didn’t panic, but he gave Roman a condescending look. Demonseed liked when he was a tall human, not a smelly dog.
I wouldn’t tell Roman the familiar had thought that about him.
Demonseed tucked himself into the shadows with the wolf on his heels. I opened my mental wards a little further, allowing the kitten’s sensory perceptions of Cimmerian’s grounds and gardens to filter in.
It didn’t smell as good as I usually thought it did. A sour-sweet reek of decay underlaid everything, a single discordant note among the floral perfume. The wall itself smelled like wet stones, tar, and rotting meat.
I wrinkled my nose and let the kitten continue, guided by his nose and own curiosity.
The two creatures looped most of the lawn and gardens, and by the time Demonseed made his way back to the rose garden, I felt perfectly comfortable riding around inside my familiar’s head.
His emotions were still a little jangly, and
grew weaker the further he was from me, but he didn’t fight the exchange of information flowing between our minds.
A human sound stopped him in his tracks. He crept around a hedge and the glittering new conservatory came into sight, the glass still glinting with the last of the sun’s dying rays.
The slight figure shutting the door behind her was all too familiar- but not the twisted pain on her face.
Come back now.
Demonseed obeyed, racing away from the gardens and back to my bedroom window.
He hopped onto the windowsill and I had the strange sensation of double vision: I saw both my room from my point of view, and his view of the room and myself.
I was deep enough in my trance that my body had slumped to the side, and my open eyelids were fluttering wildly.
Demonseed jumped into my lap as the enormous wolf scrambled through the window after him, jumping bodily over me and beginning his transformation as soon as he hit the floor.
Roman crawled over to me, his fangs sliding back into his skull as he shook my shoulders. “Blondie, what the hell?”
My familiar jumped onto my head and dug in his claws, and the sudden sharp pain broke the connection.
My body spasmed as I came back to myself, blinking gritty eyes and prying the kitten off my head.
“What the fuck was that?” Roman looked furious, his handsome face pale and drawn, eyes gone as light as glacial ice. “What the fuck is this?” He gestured to the familiars’ circle, the candles burnt down to waxy nubs.
“It was the ritual of the familiar,” I said. My voice was raspy, still sore from the buzzing chant that had bound me to Demonseed. “I was riding around in his head.”
Roman wiped a hand over his face, temporarily hiding his irritability. “Hecate’s fucking tits, Blondie, I thought you were having some kind of fit.”
“Don’t swear at me.” I pushed myself up off the floor, coughing into my palm. Demonseed bounced around on my stomach. “I need to find Holly. Something’s wrong.”
Roman helped me up and yanked on his spare clothes before slinging Demonseed over his shoulder. My familiar radiated smug satisfaction as he dug into his new perch.
I knocked on Holly’s door and got no answer. She was still outside. My stomach sank like a rock and I ran through C Wing to the North Entrance.
By the time I got outside, full night had descended on the grounds. The conservatory glinted like a diamond with the moonlight.
“Stay here,” I said, holding Roman back. Something was wrong with her, and she didn’t need to deal with Roman’s sarcasm right now.
Holly sat on the doorstep, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and staring out across the dark grounds. She glanced at me as I approached, her eyes swollen with tears.
“He’s gone. I couldn’t stop it.”
“Holly…” She’d drawn a picture of Professor White wrapped in a thousand entangling vines that choked the life out of him. Her visions were always true.
She picked at the worn cover of her notebook. “I tried to warn him. He knew about my visions, and he said if it was his time, then it was his time.” Holly sounded tired, her voice rough from crying. “I guess I admire that, in a way. He knew but he wasn’t afraid.”
“I’m so sorry.” I felt completely helpless, like there was no possible way to even begin to fix what was done. Professor White, her only mentor here, was gone. “We can try to find him.”
I draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in as a fresh stream of tears poured down her cheeks. “I don’t know why it still hurts. You’d think I’d be used to this by now.”
“I’d be more worried about you if it didn’t hurt, Holly. Knowing what happens doesn’t mean you have to stop feeling.”
“It’d be so much easier, though.” She wiped away the new tears, soaking her sleeve, and let out a ragged breath. “I really was going to go to Whitefawn when he got me out of here. He said they’d adopt me in on his word, and I’d finally have a real home.”
“You can still go. We can get you out of here. Do you still have your periapt?”
Holly’s chestnut eyes were far more resigned than I was ready to accept. “I do. There’s no way out for me, Lu.”
I’d take her through the tunnel tonight if we could find a way to get her to Whitefawn. I doubted we’d be lucky enough to find a runestone, let alone a waystone, but… Headmistress Gilt did keep a Phantom somewhere on the grounds.
I almost laughed out loud at myself when I tried to imagine going through with that plan. There’d be no way to drive through the gates in a stolen car without setting off one of Gilt’s nastier charms, even if I sent one of the twins.
Waverly was only five miles away. That wasn’t an impossible walk. We had the entire night to make it.
“There is a way out. I’ve found one. Please, Holly, let us help you.”
She smiled sadly and handed me the sketchbook. My lungs felt like solid blocks of ice as I found the ribbon marking the last page and opened the book.
The charcoal drawing was gruesome. I swallowed as I took in the details, tilting the book so the moonlight illuminated the stark black and white of coal on paper.
I didn’t want to look any harder. I wanted to deny what I saw on the page, that it simply wasn’t possible, that I couldn’t be looking at who she’d drawn. “This can’t be true.”
“It is, though. That’s the problem with true Sight. You don’t get to run from your fate.”
Why would someone as kind as Holly Cold deserve to die like that?
A tiny fire kindled deep in my stomach, melting the ice around my heart.
“Well, we’re not going to sit around and wait for this to happen.” I snapped the sketchbook shut. “You’re leaving, Holly. I’m won’t accept this, and I’m not going to let you give in, either.”
She took the sketchbook and laughed. The sound of it was so hollow and hopeless, my own chest ached. “Where could I possibly go that would be safe from Gilt dragging me right back here?”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out an incongruously modern silver key, and held it up.
***
“It’s so dark down here.”
I slid my wand out and sent a mote of wildfire into the tip, illuminating the rough stone walls and layered veils of cobwebs.
Holly grabbed my hand as soon as the light blossomed to life, clammy and clinging, but her eyes were wide with exhilaration.
Roman walked on her other side, bumping against her with his furry shoulder every so often. I knew I felt much better about these dark halls when I was surrounded by wolves, and hopefully Holly felt better too.
She only had a backpack, stuffed with her sketchbook, a few downright filthy romances she’d stolen from the library, and her clothes. The key to Dominic’s house was on a chain around her neck.
“It’s a little unnerving at first, but this is going to be the last time you ever have to see this place,” I promised.
She smiled, the hope in her eyes almost painful to see. She’d been genuinely resigned to a horrific death.
I wouldn’t let it happen on my watch.
We were going to kick the Sight right in the fucking teeth together. As long as she stayed away from Cimmerian, it couldn’t happen.
She gasped when we pushed open the rickety wooden door and led her out into Moira’s Forest. It looked like a magical fairytale forest again under the light of the waxing moon, fireflies blinking in and out between the trees.
Locke waited for us. He’d found a pair of dark jeans that hugged his hips and showed off his ass, but he was still barefoot and shirtless. Seeing him without his long waves was still a shock.
Shane prowled from the trees, ears perked up. He and Roman had found Locke while I helped Holly pack.
At least Holly wouldn’t be uncomfortable with a naked vampire or therianthrope leading the way.
She led out a shuddering breath when she saw them, each one intimidatingly enormous this close. “Lu?” Her voice q
uavered with uncertainty.
“This is Locke,” I said, squeezing her hand. “I would trust him with my life and yours. He’ll help us get to Waverly safely.”
Tears shimmered in Holly’s eyes, but they weren’t just tears of misery anymore. “Okay. If you trust him, I’ll trust him. Do we really need… all this… just to walk to town?”
Shane nudged me with his nose and lowered himself into the earth. Ice blue eyes stared up at me expectantly.
“Seriously?”
He rolled his eyes and pressed his ears flat against his head. Holly yelped when Roman stretched out on the ground, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
I tentatively climbed on Shane’s back and gripped the fur at the ruff of his neck, trying not to hurt him with a tight grip.
He stood up easily, like I was no more than a feather, and loped to Locke’s side.
Holly stared at me pleadingly. “It’ll be a lot faster than walking,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. Truthfully, I was freaking out a little myself. They were huge, yes, but riding them?
Breathtaking as hell, it turned out. The wolves were careful to avoid low-hanging branches and brambles, and when they felt like Holly and I had gotten the hang of riding them, they picked up the pace, paws thumping the ground as they streaked along the highway.
I buried my face in Shane’s fur, unable to stop myself from grinning. Holly would escape. She was free.
Chapter 18
Dominic
“What do you make of my aunt’s covenstead, Dom?”
Ivy Bloom swirled her glass of red wine, sitting opposite me at the dining room table with her legs crossed and skirt hiked up.
A view of a dumpster would’ve been more exciting.
“It reminds me of Steelblood.” True. Steelblood was every bit as ruthless and domineering, with none of the charm of the mansion.
Ivy smiled, her eyes already sparkling and heavy-lidded from her third glass of wine. She’d barely picked at the pasta primavera we’d picked up on the way to my house, but I couldn’t have cared less what she thought of it.
