Logan cut me a glance, eyebrows low and skeptical.
I gave him a shrug. I knew what he was thinking, that maybe this was a giant waste of time. We were all under a lot of stress, but I had to trust that Faris knew where we were going. Finding the witches’ bones was our last hope at finding the book. They had to be here.
“Don’t worry, Boy Scout,” said Faris after a moment of silence. “I know where I’m going.”
I was certain Faris had eyes in the back of his head. “How do you even know where they’re buried? I’m a witch, and I don’t even know.”
“My late wife,” answered the mid-demon, and I nearly tripped. “She loved to tell her stories, and I loved to hear about them.” I waited to hear more about his late wife Demelza, but he didn’t continue.
After ten minutes of trudging up and down another hill, my shovel heavy and dragging behind me, Faris veered off the path, cut through a break in the trees and halted.
“Here. This is where they are.”
I moved to stand next to him. I was expecting ghouls and the occasional lost ghost, but I was not prepared for what I saw.
“Someone’s been here,” I said, staring at the six-foot deep rectangular hole in the earth. Positioned at the head of the grave, now a hole, was a headstone made of black marble. Letters had been inscribed upon it in gold, and it still gleamed despite about a couple hundred years of exposure—magic. Beneath a golden pentacle were the words: HERE LIES MARIGOLD BLACK. ONE OF THE THREE.
“It appears so,” answered Faris. “It would also appear whoever did this had the same general idea.”
“It’s how they’ve been tracking the book.” Damn that Irva. I knew this was her. Guess she wasn’t so stupid after all. But I still hated her.
Logan stood calmly and steadily, his shovel’s tip in the dirt with his hands folded over the handle. He peered down the hole. “Looks like they took all the bones. Didn’t even leave anything behind. Not even a piece of clothing. Nothing.”
“Good thing more old bags are buried next to this one.” Faris moved over to the left and tapped his shoe against another black headstone.
Two identical black headstones sat in patches of tall grass and weeds. The inscription on the nearest one proclaimed: HERE LIES ASTRID BLACK. TWO OF THE THREE. And the last one: HERE LIES BATHILDA BLACK. THREE OF THE THREE.
“They were sisters,” I said, voicing my thoughts out loud. The Power of Three, and all that. Interesting. I knew all about it. The Power of Three was a collective power between witches, mostly between witch sisters or witches that shared the same bloodline, a cousin, a daughter, you get the idea. It is said to be the strongest kind of magic that has ever and will ever exist in this world. The Power of Three magic let the witches tap into their magic to possess their individual powers and to possess all three. It was no wonder these three witches were powerful.
It was also interesting to me because it was similar to what I could do with my magic, without the need for sisters.
“Yes,” answered Faris moving to inspect the last gravestone. He knelt next to it and pulled at the grass that covered it. “Very powerful Dark witches.”
I shook my head. “What possessed them to create such a dangerous book?”
“That, Sammy darling, we shall never know. Perhaps because they could. The world was very different back then. Especially for witches, or any female.”
I still believed there had been a real reason why they’d created a book like that, a book that could remove magic from the world. But like Faris said, those answers were long gone.
I stared at the graves, the hair on the back of my neck rising with my tension. Digging up a grave is just as daunting and disgusting as it sounds. Well, maybe worse. The idea of disturbing old bones had my bones shivering. But we didn’t have a choice.
“I’ll start,” said Logan shifting next to me as he moved to stand over Astrid Black’s grave. He jabbed his shovel into the topsoil. “You can prepare the tracking spell while I dig.” With his boot, he hit the step part of the shovel and started to dig. After the third shovel, Logan looked up a Faris. “And what will you be doing while I dig?”
Faris’s eyes sparkled in the twilight. “I’ll be cheering you on.”
Just great.
After a half-hour of digging, Logan didn’t let me use the shovel once. He kept saying no and insisting that I worked the spell, to have it ready. He said this was his job, and mine was to work my magic. I knew he was being gallant, manly, and I liked it. Sue me.
Coming from him, it was honest and real, making my feelings for him escalate.
He’d stripped down to only a T-shirt, the muscles on his back, shoulders, and arms bulging as he dug. Sweat made it stick to his body in all those lovely spots. I didn’t complain. I had an exceptional view. I could sit there for hours watching him dig, but there was that small thing of saving the world and all that.
Faris, well, he did exactly what he said he would. The mid-demon sat on Bathilda Black’s headstone, clapping and cheering Logan on.
“Ata boy,” he applauded. “You can do it. That’s it. Use your leg muscles. Not your back. That’s the ticket.”
I swear Logan was about to smack him over the head with his shovel when Faris said, “You missed a spot. Right there.”
But then Logan called out from six feet below. “I’ve found something.”
Excitement pulled at me. I jumped to my feet and peered down at the giant hole the angel-born had managed to dig in about thirty minutes. Was it weird that it turned me on?
“There’s a flashlight in my jacket pocket,” ordered Logan, and I dashed to get it. I returned with it and handed it over.
Logan set the shovel down, grabbed the flashlight and pointed it on a spot inside the grave.
There, resting at the foot of the hole where the remains of the witch Astrid Black.
CHAPTER 23
I’d seen my share of dead bodies and bones before, but that’s not what had me staring in utter shock for a second. I even had the “jaw hanging open” thing down pat.
For whatever reasons, I thought maybe magic would have preserved her somehow, kept her nice and fresh, like Sleeping Beauty with some enchanted sleep or something as crazy and irrational. It didn’t.
A pale, white skull peered from the bottom of the grave surrounded by dark earth. It looked like a normal skull, with a cranium, eye sockets, nasal bone and I could see the beginnings of the jaw and teeth. A tangle of dark cloth poked through the earth, right below the skull where her neck would have been. Her robe maybe?
Faris came to stand next to me. “Is she smiling at us? I think she’s smiling. She’s definitely showing some teeth.”
“Of course, she is,” I said, slightly annoyed. “She doesn’t have any skin or lips.”
“Right.” The mid-demon laughed, and part of me wanted to give him a little push. “I’m happy to be your familiar, Sammy,” said Faris and I looked over at him, surprised. “Life has been deliciously entertaining these past few weeks. I haven’t been bored once, and that’s saying a lot.”
I felt a sloppy smile come over me. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I mean,” continued the mid-demon, “you never just sit there and wait for life to come to you. You grab it by the balls—and squeeze.”
“Great visual, thanks.”
Faris straightened his shoulders. “My pleasure.”
My eyes found Logan, who had been watching us with a puzzled expression. “I just need the skull,” I told Logan. “If you can bring it to me… that would be great.” And then we could get this rodeo on.
Logan nodded silently and then he knelt next to the skull.
“You think it’s cursed?” came Faris’s voice.
“Wait!” I shouted, reaching out and nearly falling into the grave, the tip of my boots hanging over the edge of the hole.
Logan froze, his right hand an inch from the witch’s skull with his eyes wide.
Alarmed, my heart thrashed as
I steadied myself. “Don’t touch it. Whatever you do… don’t touch any of the bones.”
Crap. Why hadn’t I thought about that? Logan could get killed simply by touching the skull.
To us witches, graves were precious, respected. To disturb a grave was strictly forbidden in our community. You just didn’t do it. There were spells and hexes associated to them, not to mention Astrid’s bones were probably cursed. You touched them, and you’d either die a most painful death or you could find yourself trapped in the witch’s dead, and still-decomposing body. Lovely.
There were so many stories and rules about that sort of thing, you’d have to be out of your mind to go and dig up a witch’s grave, especially one of the so-called “first witches.” Guess that made me crazy.
I took a breath and jumped down into the grave, careful not to step on any of the witch’s remains, and made my way toward the skull next to Logan—which was exactly two steps. It was a tight space.
“What’s going on? You’re freaking me out a little,” said Logan as he straightened, fear the thinnest ribbon in his low, controlled voice.
I stared at the skull, the white bone gleaming in the moonlight. “The bones might be cursed.”
“What?” Logan jumped back. “I almost touched them!”
I bit my bottom lip. “I know. Sorry. My bad.”
Faris chuckled from above. “You’re so cute when you’re bad. Adorable.”
My face went cold. Logan could have been killed. Where was my head? I’d failed as a Dark witch. I wasn’t thinking. If I screwed this up, we were all dead. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, pulling my focus.
“Now what?” asked the angel-born. He was restless and wire-tight, his eyes gleaming with uncertainty.
“I do a curse detection spell. If the bones are cursed, we’ll know it in a minute.”
Logan sighed through his nose. “And if they are? What then?”
“Then…” I swallowed hard. “We can’t use them.”
Logan cursed and said something under his breath I couldn’t catch. He could be angry and pissed all he wanted, but it wasn’t going to help us. His digging was still a pretty visual.
A nauseating mix of dread and fear shook my knees. I took a deep breath and held it, so I wouldn’t get sick. Please don’t be cursed.
I tapped into my rings. Jaw gritted, I moved my hands over Astrid Black’s bones and said, “Reveal the spell from whence it fell. Show the curse I no longer need. Please release me from its creed. Now reveal it as I bid. I speak these words so it must be.”
I felt the energy from my rings flow out of me like a breeze, settling around the grave, over the bones, the earth, and into every little crevice until the entire area was immersed in the spell along with me and Logan. I saw him as the spell rolled over him. He flinched ever so slightly but recovered quickly.
I kept my hands out. I waited, staring at the skull and seeing no change in it. If there’d been a curse, the skull would have gleamed red or even yellow, revealing the curse.
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing.
Thank the cauldron. I let out a long breath. “There’s nothing. No curse. The bones are fine.”
Logan looked down at the skull, eyeing it like it was a grenade about to blow. “Are you sure? I mean… these were powerful witches. I wouldn’t want my bones disturbed if I were them.”
“Pick it up, Boy Scout. If you die, you’ll know for sure,” said Faris, his pleasant face creased into a smile.
Logan’s face pulled into a tight smile. “Maybe the curse won’t affect you, seeing as you’re a demon. Why don’t you pick it up? You haven’t done anything since we got here. Do the right thing and come down here and grab it.”
Faris shrugged. “You’re closer.”
I didn’t have time for this. I reached down, hooked my fingers through the eye sockets, and yanked the skull from the earth. Okay, that was a little overkill, but it worked.
I held Astrid’s skull in my hands for a moment, the bone cold against my skin, wondering who she was and what she’d looked like. I also wondered if she’d foreseen the hell she’d created with that book of hers.
I brushed some of the earth from the skull. “It’s nice to meet you, Astrid Black,” I said to it, feeling as though I should show some respect. “Don’t be mad. But I need to borrow you. If we survive tonight, I’ll bring you back. Promise.”
A hand dangled in my field of vision. “You are a strange one, Sammy darling. Up you go.” I took Faris’s hand, and the mid-demon yanked me out of the grave easily.
I hurried over to my designated spot in the grass, which was a circle I had traced while working the tracking spell, and set the skull down. I sat on my knees before the circle. Focusing on the spell, I grabbed the same tree branch I’d used to cut through the grass for the circle and drew the tracking sigil in the middle of the circle—a half-moon with the number six hanging down from its edge.
I looked up to find both Faris and Logan standing with their arms crossed over their chests, looking disturbingly similar yet different all at once. Weird.
Next, I took a small dagger from my bag, picked up Astrid’s skull again, and carved the receptor sigil on a spot on the cranium. I put the skull back down and, using the same knife, sliced the inside of my palm. Wincing, I squeezed some of my blood over the skull until the cranium was covered with a thick coat. I needed blood of the summoning witch. My blood was the fuel to jumpstart the magic machine.
Then I placed the bloody skull in the middle of the circle and tapped into my magic.
“Ut sphaeram,” I said, binding the skull to my blood. A rush of warm energy flowed into me. It was working.
“Where’s your amulet?” questioned Logan. I looked up to see that Faris had disappeared. “You used an amulet the last time.”
I raised my brows in annoyance, shaking my head. “I don’t need one this time. I have a skull. The skull is the receptor, and it’s going to help me find the Magicae Lucis.”
“What?”
“Shhh. You really shouldn’t be talking. I need to concentrate. I can’t mess this up.” I shifted my weight on my knees, readying myself for the hardest step.
“Sorry.” Logan clamped his mouth shut, his dark eyes pinched as he frowned.
I took another deep breath to calm my mind. The next step was going to hurt like a bitch. But I had to do it. Movement behind him caught my attention.
Faris held a black, insect-eaten robe up to his chest and was waltzing around the graves, spinning and dipping in an expert ballroom dance routine.
He caught me looking. “What? Too soon?”
I had nothing to say to that.
Pulling my eyes back to my task, I reached out and placed both hands around Astrid’s skull.
“Monile sanguine ligaveris,” I chanted, channeling the energy from the sigil carved in the ground and into me. Power soared in me, and I trembled, holding it there for a moment. With my hands still wrapped around the skull, I flung my energy into the spell and cried, “Dominus invenire sanguinis! Invenies eum Magicae Lucis!”
A rush of hot energy hit me, smashing into my core. I winced as the power from the sigil flooded me—burning and scorching as I felt it take a small piece of my aura, just like all tracking spells. It was the price I had to pay for the spell.
I gritted my teeth. A flashing wave of translucent red swam up from the sigil on the ground and wound around the circle to finally reach my knees. I watched as it continued to spread up my leg to my arm and fingers, and finally to the skull.
I cringed as another torrent of energy surged in me—larger this time—with a force that sent me shaking. Then the energy exploded into existence.
It crashed into me, and I groaned, yanking back the cresting power. I cried out. I couldn’t help it. It hurt like hell. I rocked to the side, struggling to breathe until I felt the spell leave my body.
At least I was still in the same position and not flat on my ass like the last time I’d invok
ed the tracking spell. I was a champ.
“And?” came Logan’s voice anxiously. He took a careful step closer. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked. Did it work?”
I swallowed, my heart beating against my ribcage like an animal wanting out. “Yes,” I answered, knowing I’d done the steps perfectly. My body ached all over, like I’d laid down in the street and let a bulldozer run over me a few times. But it was all worth it if the spell had worked.
“But how will we know if it did?” Logan shifted his weight, his face troubled. “The amulet had shown you the way the last time you did a spell like that. Like a magical GPS. Without an amulet…”
“Are you deaf?” Faris appeared next to him. Astrid’s dress had vanished. I hoped he’d put it back. “She just told you it did. Are you saying you don’t trust in my witch’s abilities?”
Logan ignored him, his eyes on me. I knew he was worried. We were running out of time. If it didn’t work to locate the book, we were all screwed.
With Astrid’s skull still wrapped in my hands, I brought it closer to me. Then, I whirled around, still on my knees, and pointed the skull south toward the entrance to the cemetery. For a moment, nothing happened. And then a flood of yellow light flowed out of both of the skull’s eye sockets.
“There you are, Astrid.” I looked up at Logan and smiled. “It’s working.” I did it. This was going to work! If I could pat myself on the back while still holding Astrid’s skull, I would have.
Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet—
And then a searing, blue-white light exploded around us, blinding me for a second. Followed by a deafening crash like thunder, and I nearly dropped Astrid’s skull.
The last seal had been broken.
We were too late.
CHAPTER 24
We were running.
Well, I was trying to run, but it was more like an old lady jog mixed with a zombie shuffle. I looked like a complete fool. You try running while holding a skull in front of you—directing it east and west, north and south, all the while making sure the orange light never faded from the eye sockets. You get the picture.
Curses & Blood Page 18
