by S. M. Reine
The binding spell to turn a witch into an aspis required obscure supplies—or at least, supplies that were obscure in rural France. They had to get in contact with James’s old coven to have a set of crystals and holy items shipped. For the rest, they took a train into Paris, and spent several days dealing with the demon underground.
Elise had seen some strange and disgusting things in her time as a kopis, but the undercity in Paris was uniquely foul. The demons dwelled in filth dragged from the surface. She recognized a few gypsies among the black market, as well as several imps that masqueraded as children on the surface.
Buying everything they needed wiped out their francs, and the last message Malcolm left was from Denmark, so they carefully boxed up everything they needed for the ritual and headed north.
The flight to Copenhagen was mostly empty. James and Elise had three entire rows of seats to themselves. They sat together in the back.
“What are you reading?” Elise asked. His head had been bowed all morning over a book that had been sent by his coven, and she was bored of watching the frozen ocean outside her window.
He held it up so she could see the cover. It was a slender text with the graphic of a circle slashed by an arrow stamped on the cover. “It’s a reference on the binding ritual. I’m trying to understand all the nuances of it before we do anything.”
“But you’re one of the most powerful witches in the world. I thought you were beyond learning from books.”
James shrugged. “I’ve never done this ritual before. I’d prefer not to kill either of us.”
She peered over his shoulder. He was examining a drawing of an unusually elaborate circle of power. There was an illustration of a man’s forearm on the other page, and a knife digging into his skin. Inky blood dripped off his wrist.
“Who’s getting stabbed?” she asked.
He turned the page, hiding the illustration. “Both of us.”
They had splurged on lodgings and arranged for a small condo in Klampenborg, which had two bedrooms, a private bathroom, and relative privacy. It was on the edge of the king’s hunting grounds, so they only had neighbors to the west, and trees protected their windows.
Elise pushed all of the living room furniture into one of the bedrooms. James gave an approving nod at the area left behind. “Lovely condo. Too bad we won’t get our deposit back.” And then he set about converting the living room into a ritual space.
Elise jogged through the park while he worked. Everything was buried in a foot of snow; crowds were sparse aside from the occasional passing carriage and wandering deer.
When she returned to the condo a couple of hours later, out of breath with the tips of her ears stinging and red, she found the air thick with incense. James had carved the circle directly into the wood floor. She had never seen such elaborate designs, and they were enlarged to fill the space from wall to wall. There was barely enough room for the door to open.
Elise stuck close to the wall as she removed her jacket. “You weren’t kidding about the deposit,” she said, watching as James anointed the northern point with a jar of oil.
“You can enter the circle. It’s not complete yet.”
Even with permission, she didn’t immediately step over the line. He had set a candle in the south, a bowl of water in the west, and a wand in the east. Pretty typical supplies. But she had no idea what the rest was used for. He had spaced crystals, candles, and a few small statuettes along the edge. The center of the circle was strangest of all. He had left pillows in the center of the pentagram.
“Are you going to nap in here?”
“Probably.” He finished rubbing the oil around the pile of salt and sat back, wiping his hands on a towel. “I think that does it. The circle will need a few more hours to set, but we can perform the spell this evening.”
His voice was odd, as though speaking around a lump in his throat. Elise gave him a sideways look. Was he reconsidering the binding?
“I want to get dinner,” she said.
They took the train into Copenhagen and wandered around while eating hot dogs. The ocean was frozen beyond the docks, too, and the streets crunched with snow. The sun had barely risen that day—it was a wobbling yellow circle on the horizon.
As they walked, James explained the spell. “It’s an ancient ritual, as old as kopides themselves. Though there have been some improvements over the years, it does require that we transfuse blood directly into one another’s veins.”
“Do you have any diseases?” Elise asked.
“No, but it wouldn’t matter if I did. Kopides are immune to most infections. I’m most worried about catching something from you.”
“Excuse me? I don’t have anything.”
“You’re a ginger,” he said, tugging one of her curls. “I’d hate to discover that it’s contagious.”
Elise shoved him. He stumbled and slipped on the ice, but he was laughing. She found herself smiling, too.
She took the wrapper for his hot dog and threw it in the trash with hers. They walked with their heads bowed into the wind, shoulder-to-shoulder.
James stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s not reversible, Elise.”
“I know.”
“The bond’s integrity is critical. A kopis and aspis who fail to trust one another will find the bond souring. They become more vulnerable than they were without, and—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I’ve heard this from my parents before.”
“It’s important that you know what you’re getting into.”
Elise stopped on the corner and tilted her head back to study James. He had a scarf wrapped around his face, but his cheeks were pink with cold. “I know what I’m doing.”
His eyes curved up at the edges. His mouth was hidden, but she could tell he was smiling. “Jesus, it’s cold here. Let’s go back.”
The condo felt different when Elise and James returned. The air was thicker, and not just because of the incense haze. She didn’t need to be able to feel magic to know that the circle was ready.
He patted his pockets, searching for a lighter. “Why don’t you get comfortable while I light these candles? The spell is going to take some time.”
She hung her jacket on the door and removed her boots, stripping down to her leggings and undershirt. Elise carefully stepped over the carved lines of the circle with her bare toes and settled on a pillow.
James found his lighter and shed layers of clothing until he reached his t-shirt and slacks. He flicked off the electric lights, lit the candles one by one, and muttered an incantation under his breath. Vapor spiraled toward a ceiling that was gray from the incense smoke.
He took one last glance at the book his coven sent before closing the circle with a line of salt. His eyebrows lifted. “That’s quite the circle.”
Elise glanced around the room. Nothing had changed. “So are we ready?”
He nodded and folded his legs beneath him. James held one of her knives. She had bought it to skin brands off of demons, but she hadn’t used it yet, and the blade was razor-sharp. The flat part of the metal was dotted with red oil.
James handed the knife to her.
“We’ll each need to open a cut on our arms.” He took Elise’s wrist and ran a finger from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. Her glove was in the way. He rolled up the end of it to expose the heel of her hand.
“You told me that before. I know what to do.”
She didn’t hesitate to drag the point of the knife up her arm, from the inner seam of her wrist to the joint of her elbow. The metal was sharp, and all she felt was a hot sting. A red line swelled on her pale underarm.
The pain took a moment to follow. A cold wave washed across her flesh and left goosebumps in its wake.
Elise handed the knife to James, and her arm dripped onto the circle. She put a hand under her elbow to catch it.
“Let it fall,” he said.
She flicked the blood to the pentagram. It puddled in the carvings l
ike a slick red channel.
He hesitated, considering the bloody tip of the blade. Second thoughts?
“We can stop,” she said, gently flexing the fingers of her left arm to distract herself from the injury.
James’s eyes flicked to hers. His irises were the same shade of blue as the frozen ocean beyond the line of the beach, but they were darkened with thought. “That’s not necessary. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
She shook her head.
He slashed a matching line up his arm.
“Quickly,” he said, trading the knife for a roll of bandages.
Elise offered her arm. He gripped her elbow, and she curled her fingers around his upper arm. He quickly wrapped the bandages around both of their arms, then uncorked another bottle of oil with his teeth and spilled it over the cloth.
James spoke a word of power.
Elise folded inside out.
Power settled around her midsection, like a thick chain connected to her breastbone. She could see the line form between her and James, strengthening and thickening with every beat of her heart.
Their shared blood burned inside of her. It opened her skull and spilled her thoughts through the circle, dancing on the clouds of smoke.
And she could read James’s thoughts.
His arm ached and his pulse thudded in time to hers. He worried about her; he didn’t like asking her to spill blood. He was also totally certain that binding was the right thing to do.
So many feelings. Elise didn’t know what to do with them.
The circle sparked with colors she had never seen before. It swam with power, like a swirling bubble of energy around them that built in intensity by the second.
She felt dizzy. She was going to pass out.
“James…” she began, but he had already seen the thought.
He tugged her forward, careful not to break their grip, and moved behind her. It made him twist his arm uncomfortably. He didn’t really care.
James’s voice spoke directly through her mind.
I have a lot of work to do on the spell, but you can sleep.
Elise sagged against him, but she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to watch the lights spark and cascade around them. She wanted to explore his thoughts and mind. But the dizziness overwhelmed her; her vision darkened at the edges, and it felt like the strength was pumping out of her arm.
“I don’t want to fall,” she mumbled, and she wasn’t sure if she said it out loud or not.
Relax .
Her eyes drooped closed, and the magic carried her into oblivion.
After he finished the incantations, James drifted in and out of sleep for hours.
When he finally awoke, he became aware of three things simultaneously: first, that he was laying on a very hard floor, somehow having missed every single pillow; second, that the spell was complete; and finally, that they were not alone.
He opened his eyes. Malcolm was prowling around the circle’s perimeter.
James lifted his head enough to see Elise resting on his chest. Her face was tilted up, her eyes were closed, and she was snoring softly.
“How cozy,” Malcolm said. “Sleeping like precious babies.”
His voice was enough to make Elise stir. She shifted and sighed. Her eyes opened a fraction, and when she saw James, she smiled.
As soon as she saw Malcolm, the smile vanished.
“Don’t mind me,” he said, feeling a hand around in the air as though searching for a wall of power. He wouldn’t have known if there was anything there, but the sight of it irritated James.
Sitting up was complicated and required cutting open the bandages. James’s shoulder was stiff from keeping his arm around Elise for the length of the spell—according to the clock, a good eleven hours. He inspected his arm. The cut had already healed into a raised red bump.
“Did it work?” Elise asked, ignoring Malcolm.
James closed his eyes. He could feel her as a new presence in the back of his mind. “Yes. It worked.”
They were bound.
The dizzying mix of worry and euphoria was overridden by Malcolm stepping into the circle. “You lovebirds might be interested to know about what happened to all the pig farms in Denmark this week,” he said, picking up a crystal and rolling it over in his fingers.
Elise plucked it from his hand. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“You lost the trail?”
“No. He just didn’t bother with the pigs this time.”
He tossed a digital camera to Elise. She paged through the pictures, and her expression darkened in increments as she saw each one. James stood over her shoulder to look. His stomach churned when he saw the too-familiar bodies of infants. “Where did you take these?”
“All over the island,” Malcolm said. “The killer has gone mad. There are new bodies every day or two, and each cluster is centered on Copenhagen. I think it’s sticking around here.”
“He,” Elise said as James dampened a towel in the condo’s sink and wiped the blood off his arm.
“Pardon?”
“The killer is a ‘he.’ Not an ‘it.’”
Malcolm lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “However you like it. Something’s changed. If you two are done casting epic magic and snuggling up for naps, we have some hunting to do.”
When Elise didn’t respond, James stepped in. “We both need a few hours and some fresh air in order to recover. We’ll have to ground ourselves after magic of that enormity.”
Malcolm nudged the bowl of salt with his toe. “Right. What were you doing, exactly?”
“I’ll meet you at the central station in Copenhagen tonight,” Elise said. “Eight o’clock.”
“Fine by me.”
She rolled her eyes, pushed him outside, and shut the door very solidly.
Elise and James walked along the frozen beach outside their condo, bundled tightly in multiple layers. The fjord was frozen solid, and the occasional snap filled the air as a new crack appeared. Their footprints left a wavering line in the snow behind them. “Remind me to never visit the Arctic Ocean during winter again,” James said, voice muffled by his scarf.
“Why? It’s nice.”
He glanced at her. Elise’s hair was frozen at the tips, but her eyes were bright, and she looked happier than he had ever seen her. “You actually like this?”
“It’s peaceful. I feel… good.”
“Are you certain that’s not the fresh bond speaking?”
“Maybe.” She hugged her arms around herself. “But the ice is pretty. It’s sparkling.”
James couldn’t help but smile. “Sparkles. In the two years we’ve traveled together, you have never struck me as the type to appreciate sparkles.”
“Only the pretty ones,” she said, her lips spread in a thin smile.
James turned to walk backwards for a few seconds, watching the frigid ocean retreating behind them. It reminded him too much of the Russian tundra. “I would give anything for sunshine and a drink that has an umbrella right now.”
“We’ll do that next. Maybe the Caribbean…after we find Samael.” The words fell flat in the cold air.
“We will find him. Nobody else is going to die.”
“What do I do when I find him?”
He didn’t think it was a question she intended for him to answer, so he didn’t.
They wandered on in silence for a few minutes, passing a dock with icicles the size of James’s arm glistening in the dim sunlight.
“I don’t think anyone understands me,” she said suddenly, surprising him. “Other than you, anyway.”
“I’m not sure I would say that I understand you. Your layers of mystery are one of your greatest charms.”
Elise snorted. “You’re also the only one who thinks I have any charm whatsoever.”
“Malcolm seems to find you very charming.”
“He’s a moron.”
“We’re of a mind on that subject.”
James cast a sideways glance at her. “What brings this up?”
She shrugged. For once, she was so relaxed, so emotionally open, that it was almost like spending time with a normal person. The distinction was probably cruel—it wasn’t Elise’s fault that she was terrible with people and emotions, and as she said, nobody really understood her anyway. The fact that they had been able to share moments of companionship with her inability to communicate on a level that didn’t involve fists and blade was nothing short of miraculous.
But a pleasant walk along the beach was a world away from their usual dire situations. He could almost imagine life being normal.
“My arm itches,” Elise said.
“Mine as well. I imagine it will do that for some time.” He laughed. “Actually, I have no idea. Witches in my coven never bind to kopides. Your mother was an anomaly.”
The mention of her parents wasn’t enough to dampen her mood. Elise only rolled her eyes. “No kidding.” She sighed. “My dad would be angry if he heard I got an aspis. He didn’t want me to rely on anyone.”
He hooked an arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side. “Regardless, I can’t think of anyone better to watch my back,” he said, giving her a tight squeeze and dropping a kiss on her forehead.
Elise stopped walking. Before he could let go, she stretched onto her toes, pulled down his scarf, and kissed him on the lips. Her face was chilly, and so was his. He could barely feel it.
The shock of it was so powerful that he completely froze, unable to respond or register any kind of rational thought. After a half-second of utter brain failure, a single thought rose to the surface, which was along the lines of a less coherent what the hell?
His lack of response was apparently as good as a refusal. She dropped back. Cocked her head to the side. Her brow was furrowed, like she was only just giving thought to what she had done, and attempting to decide what James’s reaction meant.
“I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “How—uh, what…?”
The corners of her mouth drew down. Even Elise could tell he was not pleased.
“Forget it.”
Once he was thinking again, a thousand things whirled through his mind: the fresh bond, the fact she had just turned eighteen years old (good God, I’ll be thirty this month ), how difficult it had been to earn her trust, the enemies at their back, the enemies in their future, and how that particular line was not one that he would have ever, not in a hundred years, have expected Elise to attempt to cross.
