by Dodge, Lola
I fought the urge to pick it up and squeeze it to my chest—I didn’t think we were there yet. “Do you need help? Is that what you’re asking?”
I wasn’t sure I could help, but I’d try.
The creature stilled and gazed up at me, wide-eyed. Not blinking. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but something in its stillness said it was making a choice.
So I waited.
It stared.
And I waited.
It seemed to give the tiniest nod before crouching on all fours. A dry retching noise made me fall back on my butt.
The sound was a cat hacking up a hairball.
Because it was hacking up a ball. Just not one made of hair.
A glittering marble plonked onto the cave floor. It looked like a ball of polished angel quartz, white with an inner light that cast a halo of rainbows.
Not a hairball or a marble.
A soulstone.
The creature nudged the stone with its nose, rolling it closer just in case the offer wasn’t clear.
“You want to be my familiar?” The words came out in a breathless rush.
“It wants what?” Wynn moved closer behind me and his shins bumped my back, which was good because he’d stop me from falling all the way to the ground.
“It’s asking to form a bond with me.” Basically offering—or lending?—part of its soul. I knew the basics of familiar contracts, but I’d never thought that kind of contract would be possible for me, so I hadn’t sweated the specifics.
Turned out, it was possible.
And now my palms were sweating.
“Your answer?” Wynn’s voice echoed the question bouncing through my skull.
What was my answer?
If I accepted, I had offer part of my soul in exchange. For life.
That was how familiars worked. A lifetime partnership.
I still trusted my original feelings about this creature, but forming a familiar bond now would be like getting a guy’s name tattooed on my face ten minutes into the first date.
And with my taste?
It was way too soon to know if we’d be good long-term partners.
“Why me?” I looked away from the glittering soulstone, hoping the creature could give an explanation I understood.
It tugged my finger, then darted back across the cave. I climbed back to my feet and followed. The creature extended its claw-paw and pointed down the tunnel so clearly that there was no way I could misinterpret where it was pointing.
I reached out my senses.
THUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNK.
That heartbeat pulse of magic sent another shiver skittering down my spine. The creature flattened its ears and curled open its mouth, revealing two stumpy, almost shark-tooth fangs. Its fur puffed out and its thin wings unfurled.
So it wasn’t a fan of that scary presence, either.
“Can you help us fight?” I was beyond caring if Girrar overheard. I needed answers as much as I needed allies.
The creature nodded so enthusiastically its ears bobbed. Then it hopped over to dance around its waiting soulstone.
My tongue stuck the roof of my mouth.
As my death magic ran out, so did my use to Girrar. And the more magic I baked out of my system, the louder the ominous heartbeat pulsed.
Whatever it was, it would wake up. Maybe just in time to enjoy Wynn and me for a quick breakfast sacrifice.
And that pretty much made my decision.
I had to do whatever kept me alive.
“You’re sure?” I picked up the soulstone. Its rainbow magic felt warm and welcoming as a fresh caramel.
The creature butted my hand, nudging my fingers closed around the stone.
Before I could worry if I was supposed to swallow it, the stone melted. It pooled flat, then absorbed, tingling and sparkling until rainbows glittered underneath my palm.
My skin was stained rainbow shades like I’d been tie-dying, and I had a feeling the mark was permanent.
At least it wasn’t on my face.
The energy moved tentatively through my veins, making my whole arm hot, but it hadn’t moved farther yet. The creature made a chirp.
It was waiting for my trade.
The cave rules wouldn’t let me form a soulstone even if I knew how to conjure one, but that magic was way beyond me anyway. All I could offer was blood.
“Lend me a knife.” I held out a palm and Wynn offered me a blade, handle first.
Gritting my teeth against the stomach-swooping sensation, I sliced a shallow cut across the back of my arm. I didn’t know if there was a fancy spell or incantation I was supposed to use to the seal the deal.
All I had was one word. “Partners?”
The creature pounced on my wound.
I flinched, bracing to be gnawed on by shark teeth, but all it did was lick. Like a kitten lapping up warm milk.
Pinprick sparkles of magic popped with a cereal-in-milk crackle that tickled inside my veins. The sensation filled every inch of me until I was blinking away rainbows.
The creature smiled and her purring voice filled my head.
Twenty-Two
“Excuse me?” I wrapped my arms around the bouncing ball of fur and leathery wings, still trying to wrap my head around hearing her voice in my brain.
Hurry where? I thought the thought at her, but she didn’t respond.
So she couldn’t hear me in her head?
“Hurry where?” I asked out loud, more worried about the waking god part than the learning curve on bonding a familiar. “What god?”
“Definitely not.” Its growing heartbeat of jaw-dropping power was all the warning I needed. “What do we do?”
“How?”
“I’m not ready.” I had no way of obliterating Girrar, let alone his god.
“That soon?” My voice came out in a squeak.
“What’s soon?”
I jumped at Wynn’s voice. I’d actually forgotten he was here. I turned so he could see the creature in my arms. “Trouble.”
“Says who?” He still gripped his knives.
I hugged my familiar a little closer. “Says… What do I call you?”
“Ratwing? That’s mean.” And not a great name for such an adorable fluff ball.
“Oh…” Maybe not that adorable? But she needed a name. Since she was the only bat/cat/rabbit I’d ever seen…
Crabbit? Carabat?
Carat. Like a precious gem? “How do you feel about Carat?”
“Carrot.” I liked that a hell of a lot better than Fondant.
“Back to the house.” I whirled down the tunnel. Wynn slipped in front of me, leading the way back while I plotted.
Girrar had delivered most of the herbs on my original ingredient list. I hadn’t asked for anything obviously deadly like nightshade, but with death magic fattening the man-bats like milkshakes packed with protein powder, killing still wasn’t my best play.
I just needed Girrar and his minions to stop paying att
ention. To take a little batnap and give us time to escape.
Breathing hard, I ran back to Fiona’s and didn’t stop hustling until I was standing at the kitchen counter.
I grabbed the stoppered glass bottle of valerian root syrup that Girrar had dumped with the pile of stuff from Fiona’s pantry.
A sleeping enchantment.
I already knew a simple recipe I could mesh with the death spell. Because what paired better than sleep and death?
“Working on it.” I turned to Wynn, already distracted as I worked out the steps for a modified enchantment. “Can you start separating the eggs?”
“Yeah.” He grabbed the cartons from the fridge but moved a little slower than usual. Still watching me. Still tensed.
I shook my head. “I’ll tell you when.”
He nodded. “I’m ready.”
I hoped so because I was going to need his help when we got to the obliterating-a-god part of this plan. But as long as the god wasn’t awake, we could decapitate it?
I shuddered.
Would Wynn be up for that? Because I’d hurl if I had to be in charge of decapitating.
“How?” I felt her magic like a ball of energy perched on my collarbone but reaching for it was as effective as grabbing for the moon.
I didn’t usually call to gods or spirits or other entities in my spellwork, but it was easy enough to make a little prayer. Focusing on the glow of Carrot’s power, I forced myself to stop reaching out and instead to open—like I was mentally holding out my palms.
Please lend me your power.
A rainbow rush rocketed through my body. It tasted like blue-raspberry hard candies and I could feel every breath, see every crumb on the countertop in the sharpest, vividest detail. Like I’d been swimming in a bucket of oatmeal ’til now.
“Whoa.” I held up my hand and watched the glowing lights under my skin. Blue for my veins. Red for my magic. And now, the subtlest shimmer of rainbows.
I brought my attention back to the spell. Cracking open the valerian syrup, I caught a whiff of fish market dumpster. My eyes watered. It wasn’t something I wanted to experience with my normal senses, let alone familiar-magic-heightened ones.
Focus. I reminded myself this time.
Fiona’s pretty calligraphy decorated the label, but however she’d brewed the syrup, she’d only intensified the valerian’s natural stink. I’d have to mask the flavor. But I also had to rush. With Wynn’s help, baking took less time, but we didn’t have much time to begin with.
The same sound echoed at the edge of my thoughts.
THUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNK.
Was it the sleeping god?
Or my own heart?
I couldn’t tell anymore.
When it was time to prick my finger, I left the silver needle and grabbed Wynn’s knife.
He grabbed my wrist. “What’s this?”
“My recipe.” I tried to tug away, but his fingers held firm.
“Pricking yourself wasn’t bad enough?”
“Wynn.” My voice lifted and I hoped he heard undertones of this-is-all-part-of-my-plan. “Let me handle the magic.”
“Then let me handle the blood.” He flicked a knife into his free hand and moved his arm toward my bowl.
“Wynn.” I grabbed his knife hand and suddenly we were standing with our arms crossed and locked, each holding a wrist and a knife. “Don’t mess up my recipe.”
“Fine,” he said in the flat, one-word-answer voice I hadn’t heard in a while. At least he let go of my wrist.
I gave that the eye roll it deserved. “Can you both back away from my mixing bowl?”
Wynn stalked off and Carrot hopped farther down the counter.
I took a breath, steeling myself. The slice from offering my blood for the familiar contract had already scabbed, so I had to make a fresh cut. But I was running out of unbroken skin. The only option was peeling off one of the gauze squares that covered my bat bites.
I gritted my teeth and sliced my arm over the bowl.
When the queasy wave passed, I dripped a few blood drops into my almond flour. I didn’t need to conjure flames to know that I wouldn’t see much green in my energy. Maybe none.
Whether the death magic was gone or almost used up, I had a feeling Girrar’s bat cronies would treat me like their personal ketchup bottle—scraping out every last drop of power they could feed on.
I grabbed the valerian bottle and gripped it to keep my hands from shaking. Moving slow and careful, I dripped a few drops on top of the blood puddle.
Sleep be swift, sleep be true, deep sleep is my gift to you.
Then I added more blood.
Sleep be swift, sleep be true, deep sleep is my gift to you.
More valerian.
Sleep be swift, sleep be true, deep sleep is my gift to you.
I was adding too much liquid, but as long as the macarons didn’t melt into puddles, I didn’t care. I needed to layer in as much power as possible.
The blood and syrup shimmered when I folded them in, pentagram-style. The batter literally hummed with power, numbing my fingers where I held the bowl. My energy—blood and fire—mixed with Carrot’s cool rainbows and even a touch of Fiona’s cozy cat-like magic.
Serious spellwork. Serious power.
My chest expanded.
These bats were about to have the best sleep of their vampire lives.
It took ages for the macarons to finish. I’d baked a quadruple batch, not wanting any of the bat-runts to go hungry and unenchanted.
Waiting with my face pressed against the oven glass didn’t speed up the baking process.
When I finally pulled the last batch from the oven I wasn’t so sure my trick would work. The macarons looked like oil-slicked concrete, only half set. And their grave dirt sprinkle looked like straight-up dirt.
I let my fingers hover above the tray. The call of death was so much weaker than it had been even a few batches ago, but it was still calling.
And sleep…
My eyelids drooped and I started leaning to the side. I snapped my hand back and straightened up. That enchantment was working.
“You two wait here.” I dumped the macarons onto a tray and headed for the porch. I could already hear the waiting screeches.
Wynn beat me to the door and Carrot jumped onto my shoulder.
I hoped they were better at following instructions when we were trying to kill a god.
I shifted Carrot’s weight to a more comfortable perch and opened the door. Man-bats crowded close, ready to tear into their prey with lusting, violent hunger.
“Made a friend?” Girrar stood on the porch steps. A flock of tiny bats took wing at the sharp echo of his words.
The gang’s all here.
“I did.” I gulped. “She makes my magic stronger.”
“Oh?” Girrar loomed forward, eyeing my macaron tray. I offered it out to him, trying to keep my breathing level. Normal. Like this batch was exactly the same as all the batches before.
He grabbed a handful and jammed them in his coat pocket but kept one to sample. My heart thumped in betrayal, pumping faster and faster and faster, but when Girrar’s eyes rolled back in delight, he missed the evidence of guilt.
“Delicioussss.” He smacked his lips.
I tossed the rest of the macarons into the fray. Bigger now, the bats were that much more bloodthirsty. They tore into each other, fighting for the mouthfuls of magic. Slicing with talons, screeching in pain, rage, hunger.
Wishing I could plug my ears against the noises, I scattered the macarons as far as I could, doing my best to make sure every ba
t came up with a mouthful. If I missed even one…
I didn’t want to think about it.
When they were fed, the monsters faded away—back into the secret blackness of the cave. Girrar disappeared with his maddening grin.
But I promised myself.
The last smile was going to be mine.
Twenty-Three
I wasn’t sure how long the sleeping spell would take to settle, but we couldn’t give it much time to marinate. Gripping my battered fireplace shovel, I wished I had a better weapon. Like one of those baseball bats studded with nails or my own stupid magic. Wynn and his knives would have to be our main offense.
“We need a way to make light.” My best idea was vegetable oil torches.
Not a good idea.
“If you can handle that, then…” I turned to Wynn. “Then we’re ready?” I was proud my voice wasn’t shaking because my knees were in earthquake mode.
“Let’s go.” Wynn strode for the door.
I hustled after them. A white puff bat clung to the folds of my shirt, but I didn’t dare stop to let it down at this point.
We hurried through the maze of passages, every step dragging us closer to the cave’s heartbeat. It drummed in my ears, drowning out the sound of my rasping breath.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t—
A hand dug into my forearm. Pulled me out.
I bent, hands on knees. Sucking in delicious air. “Thanks,” I said when I could do more than gasp.
But how the hell had Wynn fit through? He was bigger than me.
“Keep moving.” He tugged me into a jog before Carrot darted too far ahead of us.
I wheezed behind them. Caving and cardio were already awful. Together, they made a new kind of punishment.
But I had to keep running.
The echoing THUNK was stronger, louder, and only a few beats from making the rest our cave experience seem like an island vacation.
I only let myself slow when we hit the tunnel of night blackness. The mouth looked like it punched a hole straight into a dimension even worse than this one, and another tremor rocked my knees.
