The Spellcast Gate (Accessory to Magic Book 5)

by Kathrin Hutson

  Two minutes ago, he’d been daring her to unleash the power they both knew she had on the off-chance she’d actually listen to him and blast him into oblivion. Now, she was thanking him for not forcing an impossible decision while they halfway held each other in the kitchen.

  It should have been insanely awkward, but Jessica felt herself leaning even more into their odd embrace. There had to be more, right?

  Leandras took a deep breath, his chest swelling beneath her hands, and nodded. “Of the two of us, I have far more faith in you than myself.”

  “That doesn’t help me.” She wrinkled her nose and couldn’t help a small laugh. “Like at all.”

  “It wasn’t intended to be helpful to you.” He swallowed. “Neither is it meant to persuade you one way or the other. But I... I finally find myself with an overwhelming urge to tell you what you need to hear.”

  “You mean there’s more?”

  The fae was clearly too distracted by his own overwhelming urge to realize she’d made another awful joke. Again.

  “Whether you choose to perform the Thon-Rothím with me is irrelevant. If you decide against it, you will undoubtedly move forward without me, and I will do everything in my power to stay out of your way. But you must know the fear you carry is grievously unfounded.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  He could have been referring to any fear; Jessica was fully aware of how many existed and would continue to freeze her up until all this was over—until they succeeded against the Dalu’Rázj or she was dead. But the only one that really applied to the fae man was the fear he’d tried to break her of by using it to threaten his own life.

  “There is...” Leandras narrowed his eyes, which bloomed slowly with silver light before fading into their calm, dark shimmer again. “There is far more light within you than anything else, Jessica. If I can see it now, I only hope you come to do the same.”

  Okay, now this sounded like a goodbye.

  Before she’d told him yes or no.

  “Leandras, you don’t have to—”

  “Please. Let me finish.”

  She quickly shut her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes, slightly leaning away because being caught with a sucker punch like what was clearly brewing behind his lips would be a lot easier to handle with more space between them.

  “I have seen very little hope since that portal upstairs was first sealed. In all my time spent waiting and searching and preparing for a completely different outcome than I’d anticipated, I assumed it was all...devoured.” A bitter smile flickered across his lips. “Perhaps I had more part to play in that than most, knowing what I’ve done and for whom I sought to achieve my goals.”

  Jessica took a breath to tell him he didn’t have to keep talking, but he clearly did.

  “No, I’m well aware of my own personal burden. It’s not yours. And it comes with numerous regrets I must accept. But I...” Leandras sighed, smoothed her hair away from her face again with a heartbreaking tenderness, then met her gaze. “After everything we’ve been through together, Jessica, you’ve illuminated that misconception on my part. The past cannot be altered, I know, but if I were to change any of it, I... I only wish I’d known you first. Before I ever knew my role as Vem-da’án and all its perceived, deceptive benefits. It would have led me to a better understanding of what was possible.”

  He stared at her like he was waiting for her to say something.

  Literally every thought eluded her as she drew a ragged breath and couldn’t even move.

  What was she supposed to say? Too bad she wasn’t around a few thousand years ago, because yeah, things would definitely have turned out differently? That she was sorry he’d had to learn it all the hard way? That he shouldn’t beat himself up so much, because they weren’t finished yet?

  Jessica didn’t even know if they’d be finishing it together, and here he was, giving her this rambling confession of his own mistakes and how much he wished he’d met her sooner.

  Worst of all was the insane pressure he’d just laid on her shoulders. He’d basically just called her a beacon of hope, and Jessica had barely managed to cling to a shred of it since the day she went from clueless apprentice to even more clueless Guardian.

  What were they doing?

  Leandras clearly picked up on her confusion—if not her complete shock and healthy dose of denial—and pressed his lips together. It looked like he was trying not to laugh.

  Or that he completely regretted everything he’d just said.

  “All that to say thank you,” he whispered.

  Jessica had no time to prepare for both his hands settling on her cheeks again and his head dipping toward her. The kiss she knew was coming was not at all the kiss she’d expected; he brushed his lips against her forehead, whispering something else in Xaharí she didn’t understand.

  The words didn’t matter. Jessica felt them—not just the flutter of his breath against her skin but the actual meaning behind each and every one.

  Thank you. Forgive me. I’m yours. Do what you must.

  No, it didn’t make sense, but none of this did.

  It didn’t make sense either when Jessica closed her eyes and the first few brimming tears escaped from beneath her lashes, or when she slid her hands up Leandras’ chest and neck and into his dark hair, or when she lifted her face toward his and pulled him closer to return that kiss without a Xaharí prayer of her own.

  Anything she might have said still didn’t matter at all.

  Neither did the strangeness of kissing him like this—like she’d never quite kissed anyone else—or of the empty boxes skittering across the floor before he pressed her up against the fridge, or of his fingers trailing up her ribcage beneath her shirt to draw a desperate, shuddering gasp from her lips.

  It didn’t matter that this was where they were headed now despite neither of them knowing if she would agree to help him. She’d made no promise to cast the Thon-Rothím with him and become so much more than just a Guardian chaperone through an otherworld portal. Right now, she didn’t have to.

  Even the bank’s low, smug chuckle filling her mind didn’t matter, though she tried to ignore it. ‘I knew it. Fucking finally.’

  Fine. Maybe one word mattered.

  Out.

  ‘Uh-huh...’

  And yes, the bank would know all about this when it was over, but Jessica didn’t care.

  She owned the place.

  GILLIAN STOOD IN THE cold, dark basement, looming over the corpses of a couple who’d been surprisingly resistant to his hunger. Just not immune to it.

  Their life force and their magic—cruorcian and changeling, of all amusing pairings—poured through him like a delicately aged wine. The pleasure of his work was best enjoyed immediately, where he could see them lying there with nothing left to mark them for what they used to be. Sometimes, their eyes remained open, their mouths parted in terror and the final spark of despair that appeared when they realized this was the end for them. Gillian preferred to see them that way. It brought a certain sweetness rarely found anywhere else.

  This oddly matched couple, though, had gasped their last while wrapped in each other’s arms. They’d fallen to the unfinished basement’s concrete floor that way, first in terror, then in a desperate attempt to not be separated.

  In a way, they were still together, joined by the thousands of his other victims.

  Gillian rolled his shoulders back and stretched out his neck, reveling in the afterglow of a perfectly satisfying kill.

  Except he wasn’t entirely satisfied. He hadn’t been since he’d tasted the one he’d been chasing for longer than he’d chased any other before the brief glimpse of that extraordinary power disappeared again.

  That was what he truly desired, but taking a few insignificant magicals from time to time was as close as he could get. A small consolation, but Gillian would not relent in his search.

  He never did.

  Perhaps it was the thought of his escaped prey th
at drew the threads of her power toward him, or perhaps the timing was nothing short of preordained. Either way, when the taste of his runaway vestrohím flooded through him as he stared at these pathetically romantic and very dead magicals at his feet, Gillian’s breath caught in his throat.

  His eyes rolled, and he jerked his head back to accept more.

  He wanted more. And he meant to take it all.

  An image flooded through him when that delicious, burning intensity of her magic reappeared—a dimly lit hallway, with a studded iron door at one end and a comically injured fae man lying sprawled across the floor, burned and bleeding.

  Gillian chuckled and ran his tongue along the edge of his upper teeth.

  Finally, she had reappeared. And now the fae who’d ripped her so unexpectedly from Gillian’s grasp—the grasp he had no intention of releasing now, after so many years of yearning for that irresistible vestrohím and taking the rest of what he wanted from her—was as good as dead.

  An excellent development.

  And now Gillian knew exactly where Lilith Gray was hiding herself.

  His first instinct was to take off right then and make his way to her, but things were slightly different now. Agreements had changed.

  He had certain responsibilities to fulfill. Doing so first, before anything else, would only ensure Gillian got what belonged to him.

  Alliances could be beneficial that way.

  With another simpering chuckle, he flicked out his hand with a sharp twist of the wrist, and a silver blade erupted at the tip of his forefinger. Still drunk from his latest meal, he welcomed the sting of that blade against the flesh of his abdomen, hissing in ecstasy when he pierced himself just below the sternum and cut a long, slow incision down to his navel.

  The green light spilling from that wound instead of blood made this little chat all the more exciting.

  “Roth’akán,” Gillian whispered.

  A rumbling growl rose from the green light flaring from his gaping belly. Then two clawed hands of glowing green smoke clawed their way from the fissure in his flesh and drew the rest of his summons out of him with a rapturous agony that almost consumed him.

  When he finally caught his breath again, Gillian opened his eyes and stared at the window of green light rimmed in flickering dark smoke and illuminating the empty basement.

  “Speak.”

  The sound of that voice was almost as sweet as the taste of his vestrohím.

  “I found her. I know where she is.” Gillian groaned and swayed where he stood, intoxicated by both the terrifying and monstrous face gazing back at him and the anticipation of what would soon be his.

  “What of Vem-da’án?”

  “He suffers. It would be greater by your hand, but he will not survive.”

  The face in the green light said nothing more, though words were unnecessary when those two black, lightless eyes bored into Gillian and told him everything he needed to know.

  “Let me handle the Guardian,” he muttered. “Let me remove your final obstacle, Roth’akán. I know exactly who she is and what she can do. All I ask is your consent to let me...take what remains of her when it’s over.”

  Just muttering the words sent a violent shiver of pleasure through him.

  “The rest is yours. As always.”

  The Dalu’Rázj gave no reply. Not with words, anyway.

  Those black eyes stared into Gillian, sifting through all he knew and everything he desired, and that was enough.

  With a piercing howl that rocked the walls of exposed insulation and sent dust and splinters of wood raining down from overhead, the green window shivered before darting right back into the hole Gillian had made of his own chest. The force knocked him backward. He stumbled across the concrete floor and burst out laughing, spreading his arms to accept the newest terms of his agreement with the Dalu’Rázj.

  When it was over, he didn’t even bother to check his abdomen; the wound had, of course, been sealed.

  Gillian snarled in delight, then spared one final glance at his latest victims before prying them apart with the toe of his boot. The cruorcian toppled onto her back, her eyes closed and a small, sad smile frozen on her dead lips.

  These two were his now. No reason to leave them intertwined so desperately forever.

  The vestrohím was his too. That had been granted, and all he had to do now was make the trip. A few days at most, but a few days were nothing after the last ten years.

  And wouldn’t she be delightfully surprised to see him?

  “No more hiding, Guardian.” Gillian grinned in the darkness. “I’m coming for you.”

  The Brúkii burst into a cloud of roaring, glittering silver mist and darted straight up through the flimsy basement ceiling. Wood splintered and snapped, dust and broken floorboards and stripped wiring spilling all over the basement floor and buried the two magicals who’d chosen to satiate the monster’s hunger in a loving embrace instead of fear.

  The vestrohím, no doubt, would put up an excellent fight and taste all the sweeter because of it.

  Chapter 22

  “You sure this is gonna work?” Jessica chugged the glass of water she’d only filled halfway in the interest of time and practically threw it in the sink.

  ‘Pretty sure,’ the bank replied. ‘You know, ’cause I’m the one who did it.’

  “First time, though, right?”

  ‘Oh, come on. That’s completely beside the point. You didn’t need to sleep with the traitor fae first before knowing you were gonna like it.’

  “I...” Jessica plastered a tight grin onto her face and stared at the wall. “Calling a meeting and...that are two completely different things.”

  ‘Not when everyone’s about to get their rocks off. Same goal, different method.’

  “Shut up.” Grabbing her phone from her back pocket to see the Uber ride she’d ordered slowly turning off Cheyenne and onto 8th, Jessica hurried out of the kitchen and stormed across the lobby.

  The bank hadn’t given her any warning. Which usually happened when it found a good thought inside her head and decided to act on it without asking first.

  ‘Seriously? You’re pissed ’cause I make shit happen at the speed of thought? You know what? You try being a building with thoughts and feelings for a few hundred years, then tell me you don’t appreciate the speedy service.’

  “I appreciate it,” she grumbled. “I just wasn’t—”

  The door to the office on the other side of the lobby opened with a creak, and Leandras emerged with a slow, hesitant smile. “I see you’re leaving.”

  “Yeah.” Jessica cleared her throat. “Uber’s almost here.”

  “Wherever you’re going, I’d be happy to take you myself if—”

  “No.” She ran a hand through her hair and tried to smile. “I mean, I appreciate it, but this is something I have to handle on my own. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour. Maybe two.”

  “I understand.” The fae’s knowing smirk as he gripped both sides of the doorway and looked her up and down made Jessica wish she could stay.

  But that wouldn’t get her what she needed.

  ‘Nah, you already got everything you needed out of Mr. Yes-Master over there last night, didn’t you?’

  We’re not talking about this.

  ‘That’s a yes-master.’

  Jessica returned Leandras’ smoldering gaze with a coy smile of her own, then finally had to look away. “Feel free to hang out. While I’m gone.”

  “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “You want me here upon your return?”

  Okay, time to take notes.

  Trying to make it to a meeting the bank had called in her name after a night spent with the Laen’aroth was way too much excitement to cram into one day.

  The bank sniggered. ‘That’s what he said. I mean—Wait...’

  “Yeah, Leandras.” Jessica ignored her bodiless companion and headed for the door. “I want you here when I get back. Because then I’ll have an answer for you.”


  She unlocked the front door and turned around to shove her back against it. And yeah, to get another look at him.

  The fae man tilted his head and grinned, then stepped slowly backward into the office and disappeared.

  Hell of an invitation. And one she couldn’t accept despite how much she wanted to.

  Because what she heard at this meeting would determine whether or not she chose to take the Laen’aroth at his word and cast the Thon-Rothím with him.

  The blue pendant flashed on her chest when she stepped onto the sidewalk, and the bell above the door jingled before the door closed and her Uber ride pulled up at the curb.

  Jesus. In twenty minutes, she’d know whether or not making herself his new master was a good idea based on a goddamn vote.

  At least the bank hadn’t sent that little snippet of info along with the instant mass invite.

  WHEN SHE ARRIVED AT the ranch-style house in Arvada twenty-three minutes later, everyone was already there. Seeing Cedrick’s car parked at the curb didn’t surprise her at all, and she’d expected Mel to be there with him. Obviously. But finding the dryad Boris and his gnome friend Reynaldo inside Steve the warlock’s house—without having their numbers—was the cherry on the What-Is-Happening sundae.

  Jessica studied the four wide-eyed, expectant faces staring back at her as Steve closed the door and gestured toward the open seats in his living room.

  “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Jess.” Mel quickly slipped her hand out of Cedrick’s and stood, smiling nervously as she tucked her pink hair behind one ear. Then she hurried forward to wrap Jessica in one of her crushing hugs.

  It took a minute for Jessica to get her arms to work, but she returned the witch’s embrace and sighed.

  “We were starting to freak out after your message,” Mel whispered in her ear. “But you don’t look like you’re about to kill someone, so I’m actually pretty relieved.”

  “Oh, yeah?” They released each other, and Jessica huffed out a weak laugh. “What do I look like?”