The first time I was captured, I tried my best to ignore the incantation as the words echoed around me. I tried to convince myself if I couldn’t hear the words, they wouldn’t have an effect on me. But that’s not the case. And although I’ve never seen the words written and I’ve never spoken them aloud, they’re seared into my memory. When I call them to my lips, they tumble out as if I’ve recited them every day of my life.
Bryn listens through twice before joining in. The sounds are clumsy in her mouth the first few times she speaks them, but then they begin flowing like water over a dry riverbed. The usual icy fist of dread that clenches my insides at the sound of the spell is absent, replaced by a serene sense of calm.
Black pinpricks gather on the edges of my vision and I inhale, readying myself for what comes next. Electricity dances along my spine, and my stomach twists, threatening to spill everything I’ve eaten today. I brace for the pain I’m sure is coming, but a glance at Bryn reminds me that this is different from every time I’ve been bound before. Bryn isn’t imprisoning me—she’s setting me free, even if only for a year.
Almost as quickly as it began, the unpleasant sensations assailing my body subside. Even the black splotches in my vision evaporate. I accept this. I accept her.
Warmth seeps into my body, like sunshine soaking into the skin on a warm summer day. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so safe, so secure. Like I’m wrapped in a sunbeam so pure and brilliant it has the power to keep all the darkness away.
It’s never been like this. Even the times when I’ve been unconscious for the binding, I’ve known what was happening. I could feel it in my bones. But this is different. Deeper. Like my spirit knows it’s not going to be held captive by a malicious master.
It feels like going home.
Bryn’s words cease, but I don’t immediately open my eyes.
Something is different. I’ve been bound fifteen times before, and every time it’s felt the same. I’ve sensed the tug toward my new master—even when they were at a distance. But now, nothing in me tugs toward Bryn. I don’t have the overwhelming sense of a shadow looming over me.
“Are you okay?” Bryn’s voice is quiet, a note of worry lacing the edges.
“Strange,” Calder mutters. “Your hair.”
I tug at the ends, pulling it forward far enough to catch a glimpse. “What the…”
“It flashed silver for a second. Then it went back to black.” Calder’s face scrunches the way it does when he’s working through a problem. “How are you feeling?”
I blink a few times before focusing on her pinched features. Her hazel eyes scan my body as if searching for obvious signs of trauma. I do my best to offer a reassuring smile, but I’m not sure I hit the mark. “Nothing hurts. It’s strange. I feel... fine.”
Calder tilts his head. “And feeling fine is bad?”
“No, it’s just…” I grope for the appropriate words. I suppose there is a disadvantage to never discussing this part of my existence. “When I’m bound, there’s always a certain feeling that goes along with it. Like a weight on my shoulders. It’s like I can never... never fully relax.” I wrinkle my nose. The description doesn’t exactly hit the mark, but it’s as close as I can come up with. “But now, I don’t feel that. I feel... It’s like nothing changed. I feel like I did before you cast the spell.”
Bryn’s shoulders fall. “I probably did it wrong. I’ve never really done incantations. It was always potions for Mona. Taj and I did the incantation back at Elowen’s cabin. I thought since I did that one okay this would be fine, too.”
I take a step toward her, ready to cup her shoulders with my hands and urge her to calm herself, but Calder is faster. He slips an arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest. She seems to melt against him, conforming to his body. I slide back to my original position. It was silly for me to think I could calm her. One of her boyfriends is right here. Who am I to her? At the Temple of Theurgy, she called me her best friend. I suppose I’ll have to figure out what that role looks like.
“There’s an easy way to test things,” Calder says, giving Bryn a squeeze before releasing her. “You can order Silas to do something.”
Bryn’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “No. No way. I promised I wouldn’t! I’m not going to control him.”
Her immediate opposition to the idea fills me with a contented joy I’ve never felt before. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “No, he’s right. We should test it.” I can’t help moving closer to her, ducking down slightly until I catch her averted gaze. “I trust you, remember. Tell me to do something.”
She purses her lips, her brow furrowed. I can’t tell if she’s upset Calder and I are urging her to do something she doesn’t want to do or whether she’s trying to come up with the right order to give. After a few seconds, she exhales through her nostrils. “Fine. Silas, jump on one foot. Ten times.”
I steel myself for the tug of the magic, but it doesn’t come. Nothing happens. I stare at my feet, waiting for them to obey, but both stay firmly planted. “I don’t understand.”
Bryn shakes her head. “It’s got to be me. I screwed it up somehow. Maybe I said the incantation wrong.”
“That’s not it,” I insist. “I know that spell. You did it right. And you’ve got more than enough magic in you to make the binding stick.”
“Maybe it’s a lingering effect of some spell Mona cast on you?” Calder offers, although he doesn’t sound convinced. “When I first came to the Front, they had a medic check me out. I guess it was standard procedure for Mona’s pets to have some protective wards put on them. We still haven’t had a medic check you out.”
Bryn nods like the reasoning makes sense to her. “Then why don’t you try?”
Calder and I exchange glances. His eyebrows hike up his forehead. “You mean you want me to…”
Although he looks at Bryn when he says it, I can feel the question directed at me. After all, I’m the one who will be affected by this decision.
When Bryn offered to bind me, the decision was obvious. Yes, I would bless her desire to be my master because I know she won’t abuse the power. But can I trust Calder the same way?
The answer asserts itself almost before I’ve asked the question. Yes. Of course I can trust Calder. Bryn trusts him. Hell, Bryn loves him. And I can’t believe her affection is misplaced. She sees something in this guy, something the trusts. And if she believes Calder will do right by me, then so do I.
A voice in the back of my mind warns that he could send me away. He could even force me to tell Bryn I want nothing to do with her before I go. But I have to trust he won’t do that.
I swallow to moisten my dry throat. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Calder holds my gaze for a long moment as if to ask if I’m absolutely sure. When I don’t blink, he nods. I guide him through the beginning of the incantation like I did for Bryn, and he picks it up readily. But no matter how many times the words pass over his lips, I feel nothing—not even the slightest tingle that the spell is affecting me.
When he’s finished, I pull at the ends of my hair. It’s as black as ever. My mind gropes for an explanation, but nothing comes to me. “I don’t get it. You said the spell right, but nothing happened.”
“You didn’t feel anything this time?” Calder’s brow furrows.
I shake my head. “When Bryn did it, I at least felt something. But this time, nada.”
“Why?” Bryn asks. “What are you thinking?”
An inscrutable expression crosses Calder’s face. But instead of answering, he mutters another incantation.
As soon as the words leave his lips, a soft glow begins to swirl around Bryn. Gold and green gossamer strands flow from her fingers to the ground below her. Calder lights up next with an aura of blue and silver. I look down at my own fingers and am surprised to see a mist of deep maroon cocooning my hand.
“Step closer,” Calder says encouragingly, nodding in my direction.
Bryn tilts her
head, but she follows the instruction. She nears me until there’s barely an arm’s-length of space between us. I watch, entranced, as new gold and green filaments unfurl from Bryn’s hands and stretch out toward me. But as my own maroon color reaches toward her, my stomach clenches with anticipation. I’m not sure how I know, but something tells me that whatever happens in the next few moments will change my life forever.
The colors of our magic draw closer and closer until her gold and green strands shoot forward, twisting until the spot where they come together forms a braid of gold and green and maroon.
“What’s happening?” I ask, tearing my eyes from the wondrous dance. “Does this mean the spell worked?”
I expect Bryn to answer, but she just continues to watch the strands of our magic twist together. Her lips part and her eyes widen as if it’s the most amazing thing she’s ever witnessed.
Calder murmurs another incantation, and the magic turns invisible again. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I’ve never been one to believe in coincidence, and I guess this is no exception.” He locks his gaze on me, an odd intensity burning in his jewel blue eyes. “Bryn’s special. She acts as an anchor for magic. She can focus the abilities of certain people. Taj. Me. Poe, I’d bet. And you.”
There’s something about the way he says it that makes me think this news is more earth-shattering than it sounds. I get the concept of an anchor. When I’m bound, my master acts as something of a focus to direct my abilities. But I’ve always been different from other daemons. When I’m on my own, my power is sporadic at best. But when I’m tethered, my abilities scale to match the power of whoever’s controlling me. That’s not the case for most of my kind. I’ve always been an anomaly. I never knew there was a reason for it.
“But I’m not like you or Taj or Poe.” The words come almost grudgingly. Despite so much of this conversation being devoted to just how unlike I am from other supernaturals, I’m afraid that if I bring it up now, something will break in a way that can’t be fixed. “Maybe Bryn can anchor your powers, but I’m still up for grabs. The next time someone casts a tethering spell…”
“Don’t you get it?” Calder asks. “I just tried to tether you and it didn’t work. You’re already bound, in a way. And I’m guessing it’s going to last more than a year.”
My head feels like it’s on a merry-go-round gone haywire. Is he saying what I think he is? Bryn’s spell to bind me worked—but not really. I’m bound to her, but she’s not my master? And no one else can ever tether me again? It all seems too good to be true, and I’m afraid to ask the hard questions in case it turns out I’m right. I want to live in this blissful moment as long as I can.
Calder straightens, squaring his shoulders and crossing to Bryn’s side. “I should leave you two to talk things over. And, you know, fill Taj in on this development.” He leans down and presses a kiss to Bryn’s lips. But the gesture isn’t possessive, like he’s trying to mark his territory before he leaves. It’s clear the display is out of habit and desire. As he walks past me toward the door, his arm darts out. I barely have time to flinch before his hand lands on my head, ruffling my hair.
My hair. For so long, it’s served as nothing but a reminder of what I am. Usually when people touch it, the strands are silver and the gesture is to remind me of my place. But Calder’s touch is different. He’s not forcing me to think about what I am. He’s not staking a claim on my life. For the first time, he’s calling attention to the fact that I’m in control of my own destiny. And his affectionate touch fills me with a warm tingle of belonging.
I’m finally home.
Chapter Fourteen
Bryn
The door to the cabin closes behind Calder, leaving Silas and me alone.
I have to be dreaming. That’s the only explanation of what’s going on here. Earlier today, I was convinced I’d never see Silas again—but he’s here. And when I tried to bind him to me—with the vain hope of keeping him near me for at least the next twelve months—the magic went haywire.
Can I really be an anchor for his magic? The idea seems too wild to be real. When Ryder tested how my magic reacted to Taj and Calder, he said he could parade a hundred people before me and not see another reaction like that. Yet I saw how my magic interacted with Silas’ with my own eyes. Plus there’s the fact that when Calder attempted to bind Silas, nothing happened.
But the biggest shock is how well Calder is taking the news. He actually seems happy about it—something I never would have imagined to be possible.
Silas shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking suddenly uncomfortable now that we’re alone. He rubs the back of his neck. “This is a lot to take in.”
Something in the way he says it makes my stomach clench. “But it’s good, right?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah—of course. But… I’m just kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re going to focus my magic, but you can’t control me. And no one can bind me anymore? It’s too good, you know? It feels like there has to be a catch. I can’t really be free to live my life however I want, right?”
Guilt coils low in my belly. Is Silas really free to live however he sees fit? The fact is, I don’t know what that life would even look like for him. I’m not sure whether he knows. If he’s always wanted to travel or if he wants to settle down in the middle of a forest somewhere—is he really able to do that now? And what if his desires are at odds with what Taj and Calder want? Where does that leave me?
His face pinches as he studies my expression. “And there it is, isn’t it? The catch. What is it?”
I bite my lower lip. The last thing I want is to cloud this wonderful new reality, but Silas deserves to know as much as possible. “The truth is, I’m still not sure exactly what it means to be an anchor. I do know that if someone is focusing too much magic through me, I can get very weak. It’s like I’m a battery being drained.”
A line forms between his eyebrows. “And how do you recharge?”
“‘Mutual physical contact,’” I say, employing air quotes as I recall the phrase Kari used when she found information about magical anchors in a book back at the Temple of Theurgy. “And I haven’t tested how long I can go without it. So I’m not sure what that means for you.”
“What that means for me?” He says the words slowly, as if a reduced speed might coax out some clarity.
“I don’t know how close by you’ll have to stick,” I say quickly. “It probably has to do with how much magic you’re focusing through me. We might need to connect once a week or once a month. I just don’t know.”
“Once a month,” he repeats. His expression is inscrutable. I can’t tell whether my best-case guess is good enough for him. Depending on what he wants to do with his life, having to check back in with me regularly might put a crimp in his plans. “And what do you mean by ‘connect’?”
Heat rises in my cheeks. So far, “connect” has meant a specific type of contact between me and the men in my circle. Even though Kari hypothesized the mutual physical contact I require doesn’t need to be sexual in nature, it’s always where I’ve gravitated. Even with Poe, when I sought a recharge from him when Taj and Calder were unconscious as a result of a spell gone bad. My heart twists just thinking about Poe. Every sign points to me being his anchor, too, yet he’s gone. I don’t imagine he’ll attempt to shift, so I doubt he’ll ever focus his magic through me. That fact means we have no reason to see each other ever again—and it kills me when I allow myself to dwell on it.
But what will connection with Silas look like? A memory of me wrapped in his arms outside the door to his room back at the Temple of Theurgy. I told him that night that he’s the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had, and those words are as true now as they were then. I felt so safe—so accepted—in his arms. Is a touch like that from him all I’ll require to recharge when the time comes?
But even as I consider it, the memory jumbles with a second. I foolishly attempted to go after the St
aff of Rahn by myself, and Silas stopped me. As we hid from approaching footsteps, he held me in his arms as we stood cocooned within floor-length curtains. At the time, I attributed the pounding of my heart to the adrenaline associated with hiding, but now I allow myself to recall just how it felt to be so close to him, encircled in his arms and enveloped in his smoky fire-like scent. The cadence of my heart picks up as I remember the thrill of being so unexpectedly close to him—of being hidden away from prying eyes, in the kind of spot where anything could happen.
My sex clenches as a rush of desire surges through me. My thoughts catch up a moment later. Even if a simple hug is enough to recharge me when he uses me to focus his magic, that’s not the contact I want. How could I not have seen it before now? Maybe I’ve been protecting myself, sure it was only a matter of time before Silas was yanked from my life by a cruel binding spell. But there’s no danger of that now. Whatever sliver of doubt remained in my mind evaporates as a certainty settles in: Silas belongs with me, and I belong with him. Calder must have realized that, too—and he accepts it. The sweet gesture of ruffling Silas’ hair as he left—it was his silent sign of approval.
I inhale a shaky breath. “What do you want our connection to look like?”
His eyebrows hike upward for an instant before his gaze drops to the floor. He rubs the back of his neck again, looking suddenly very uncomfortable. “I mean, I guess… I don’t know. I mean, we’re friends, right?”
Something in the way he says it makes it sound like it’s not a good thing to be—like he’s resigned himself to a particular fate. I take a step closer, forcing him to look at me. “I believe I said best friends.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t manage to hold onto the smile. “That’s just it.” His dark eyes lock on mine. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m so thankful for your friendship. And I feel the same way. No one can understand me the way you can—and vice versa. I get how special that is. But…” He presses his lips together and a muscle in his jaw jumps. “But what if what I want is more than that?”
Rebel Witch Page 11
