“I will be. You, on the other hand, will remain entirely unaffected.”
“That’s bullshit. You can’t say something like that literally right before we’re supposed to start—”
“Jessica.” The old confident, self-sure, slightly amused lilt of his voice made her look up at him again, but she couldn’t let go of her head. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he dipped his head to fix her with an insanely reassuring gaze before his eyes pulsed with silver light.
Insanely reassuring, because this whole thing was insane.
“You had no instructions for bringing me back through the veil. But you did it anyway.”
“That was a one-time thing.”
“You healed me from your own magic after our return to this world and yet again in the kitchen last night before we...” A soft, bittersweet chuckle escaped him, and he briefly closed his eyes.
How this fae could stand there, laughing and reminiscing about their follow-up tryst, was completely beyond her. No matter how much they’d enjoyed themselves last night, even with Jessica’s indecision hanging over their heads.
They had to focus.
‘He’s focusing, all right.’ The bank sniggered. ‘Maybe that’ll help you concentrate.’
Not now.
Jessica took a deep breath. “You’re comparing healing magic I didn’t know I had to...this. It’s not the same.”
“No, it most certainly is not.” The fae’s smile faltered. “I’m comparing your own inherent abilities, however surprising in the moment, to your inherent knowledge of how to play your part when it’s time. For our purposes here with the Thon-Rothím, they are one and the same, Jessica.”
It took her a few seconds of shocked silence before she realized there was no way to argue against his logic.
She gritted her teeth. “You don’t sound even a little worried about this.”
“Not where you are concerned.” Leandras worked at the top button of his black shirt as he stared at the bright-yellow circle in front of him. “Regarding my own impending experience, however... That’s something else entirely.”
He was scared.
She’d seen it written all over his face when she’d finally agreed to cast this ruthless spell with him, but their time spent going over the details and preparing the circle had brought his full awareness back into the moment. Jessica had just assumed he’d gotten over the initial surprise.
Now, she knew she was wrong.
The planning had settled him, but now they had nothing left to discuss and no more plans to lay down, the Laen’aroth was a mess.
Clearly, because instead of stopping at the first two buttons of his shirt to allow for a little more breathing room, he’d unfastened every single one and now stripped off the entire thing before tossing it toward the bay window.
Jessica’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Disrobing.” His gaze never left the bowl of water and the dagger in the center of his intricate circle.
“I can see that. I meant why.”
Leandras quickly undid his belt, unfastened the button of his dress slacks, and paused to look up at her. “I plan to step out of my prison the same way I walked into it into it, Jessica.”
“By stripping naked before a major spell?”
His pants dropped to the floor with the muffled clink of his belt buckle against solid wood.
The bank let out a low whistle only she could hear. ‘Would you look at that. No wonder you can’t stop thinking about his—’
“This is some kind of symbolic thing for you then, right?” she blurted, trying to drown out the bank’s obnoxious cackling.
“In part.” Leandras stooped to pick up his shoes and pants, tossed them aside to join his shirt, then straightened to stand there on the other side of her bedroom, completely naked. He looked at her again and swallowed. “I also anticipate something of a mess before this is over. Nothing we can’t handle.”
“But...naked?” Jessica couldn’t help but give him a once-over and immediately regretted it. “There’s a reason you don’t cast a spell while distracted. Same reason people don’t drive while intoxicated.”
“I don’t see my own nakedness as a distraction. Truth be told, it aids focus and resolve.”
“Speaking from personal experience, huh?”
That knowing smirk bloomed across his lips again, and he looked her up and down as if she’d already joined him for a good old-fashioned round of strip-poker.
Only they were betting with their lives now. Or at least his.
“If you prefer not to join me in this, Jessica, no part of this spell requires the party in your position to remove their clothing.”
‘Oh, good.’ The bank sniggered. ‘Now he’s talking about positions. This is so much better than I expected, and you two haven’t even started!’
“Okay.” Jessica turned away from the circle and headed toward the bathroom.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope. I’m not taking off my clothes, but this pendant isn’t helping.”
‘Oh, come on. Fine, I’ll stop. No, no. Wait! What if you need me to stop you from doing something completely stupid and—’
The pendant flashed with an angry blue light when Jessica pulled the chain over her head, and the bank’s voice disappeared. With a smirk, she set the necklace down gently on the top of her nightstand just inside the bathroom door and took a deep breath.
Sorry, bank. No spellcasting while distracted.
Despite the bank’s good intentions—most of the time—she couldn’t trust it not to start screaming unintelligible commands at some crucial moment. According to Leandras, Jessica would have to listen to her instincts, her own intuition, to finish the second half of this spell once he’d finished tearing himself apart during the first half.
Listening to her own voice was hard enough without an extra one cracking jokes at all the wrong times.
With a deep breath, she turned aback around and nodded. “That’s better.”
“Silent, I presume.”
“Very.” Jessica headed back toward her designated spot across the yellow circle and forced herself to look the naked fae in the eye—and nowhere else.
“Excellent. I imagine it won’t last long.”
“What?”
Leandras cocked his head. “You know what I’m about to do. Whatever happens between now and the second the water in that bowl starts smoking, you are not to intervene.”
“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear. More than once. But—”
“And I do hope you won’t think less of me for any...audible protest. I assure you it will be entirely beyond my control.”
Jessica widened her eyes and cleared her throat. “No, of course not.”
“Thank you.”
Damnit, why did he have to say something like that?
Leandras was about to start one of the most excruciating spells of self-flagellation—of self-destruction—and he was thanking her for not holding it against him if he couldn’t do it in complete silence.
At least his obnoxious devotion to etiquette was still intact.
“Ready?” He graced her with another brief smile.
“Are you?”
“Not in the slightest, Jessica. Which makes it the perfect moment to begin.”
“Okay.” She swallowed thickly and stood perfectly still as the fae closed his eyes, opened his palms toward the ceiling, and began the incantation.
The only thought she could rationally grasp was that he must have spent a lot of time learning exactly how to break free of such a dark soul-oath. And even longer carrying it around in the back of his mind just in case.
Leandras’ lips moved quickly, the Xaharí language whispering through them in clear, concise syllables. Over and over again he chanted, otherwise perfectly still.
It went on for so long, Jessica resisted the urge to pull out her phone and check the time. His step-by-step breakdown beforehand had made this sound like a q
uick, not-so-easy rite of even more complicated magic, but apparently calling in his focus and intention to fuel the Thon-Rothím was a piece of work in and of itself.
As quietly as she could, Jessica lowered herself to the floor beyond the chalk circle and crossed her legs beneath her. Looking up at the naked fae man from this angle definitely counted as a distraction for her, so she settled for staring at the yellow lines swirling across her floor.
A low, barely audible hum filled the air as Leandras continued his incantation. Shortly after that, a gentle, hazy warmth rose from the rune. The combination created a dangerous lull, the way the rumble of a car engine and the sun on Jessica’s face during long road trips with her parents had made her contentedly sleepy in the back of their family sedan.
That was a weird memory to pull out of nowhere, especially now.
Only then did she realize she’d closed her eyes, and a jolt of anxiety made her open them again with a small gasp.
Okay. This wasn’t just about being ready when it was her turn.
Jessica had to focus now, from this moment until the very end. Falling asleep on a deadly job like this definitely wasn’t an option.
She blinked harshly and shook the drowsiness away. Then Leandras’ incantation came to an abrupt end, and he slowly stepped forward into the circle of yellow chalk.
With a sharp crack, the intricate lines flared with an intense black light, racing away from where the Laen’aroth had entered his own circle to consume the chalk and complete the energy cage he’d created to keep him in place. In seconds, every bit of once-yellow rune now sizzled and sparked, and thin whisps of black smoke trailed from the lines on the floor to flicker and whip about in the still air like the whole thing had just been set ablaze.
The floor itself didn’t actually burn, but the lack of a smoke alarm Jessica had previously chalked up to Tabitha’s carelessness was now an added bonus.
Leandras whispered another string of Xaharí incantation, then his eyes flew open.
Jessica started and almost scrambled backward across the floor.
His eyes were black—completely and all-consumingly, spewing the very same lightless smoke that burst higher from the burning spell circle.
At first, she thought he was staring right at her, and her mouth ran dry at the memory of those same dark, soulless, burning eyes she’d seen within the talking image of the Dalu’Rázj’s face outside the cave. The fear of who looked at her from behind those eyes disappeared the second she realized Leandras couldn’t see a thing.
He was lost to the magic of this spell, his concentration on what he was about to attempt, and most likely the isolation of his senses now that he’d activated the casting circle.
It gave Jessica the undeniable feeling that he could neither see nor hear anything at all beyond the circle he’d drawn. That was probably a good thing, because she wasn’t sure she could completely hide her reactions to what she knew was coming.
Leandras slowly lowered himself to his knees, the smoking lines drawn perfectly to provide room for him to kneel before the bowl of water and Tabitha’s ritual dagger beside it. He reached for that dagger, muttered another short phrase of the spell, and closed his fingers around the knife’s handle.
The second he did, his body grew instantly rigid, every muscle straining beneath the force of powerful magic surging around him and through him. The smokey tendrils rose even higher, partially obscuring Jessica’s view until she shifted to get a better look.
Hissing the next part of his incantation, the fae man set the edge of the blade against his wrist and opened it with one quick, harsh slice.
Jessica’s breath quickened, and she smoothed her hair away from her face with wide eyes. It was impossible to look away from the blood gushing out of that self-inflicted wound.
It spattered onto the floor, hissing and consumed instantly by the lines of black smoke when it hit them. Even when Leandras set his fingertips into the bowl of water, the slash in his wrist turned upward toward the ceiling, he hardly made a sound beyond his barely audible chanting. And his blood overflowed into the bowl, swirling into the water and turning it almost the same shade.
It would be a bowl of blood overflowing onto the floor soon if this didn’t go exactly as it was supposed to.
When he sucked in a sharp breath, the bleeding stopped. Two more drops trickled down his wrist and into the water, then the wound he’d cut into himself sealed back up again to leave a raw, bright-pink scar in its wake.
Just one more to match the dozens of scars covering the rest of his body.
How many spells had he fueled like this with the magic of his own blood?
More importantly, Jessica realized, how many of those spells had succeeded?
The room fell completely silent for a brief moment before a low moan issued from Leandras’ lips as he tried to move his head. His eyelids fluttered, and to Jessica’s horror, his bare flesh rippled and bulged in disgustingly unnatural places. Like his skin was a pot of water starting to boil on the stove.
“Shit,” she whispered, then instantly clamped her hands over her mouth despite being mostly sure he couldn’t hear her.
This wasn’t the time or place for side comments, obviously.
Leandras wouldn’t have heard her anyway above the string of wavering groans as his torso lurched back and forth, the churning beneath his skin picking up speed. Still, he clenched the knife in his hand and let the spell continue on its own.
A sickeningly wet pop cut through his voice, splitting one final moan into a choke before thick, blistering lines of green light split his flesh and spread across his entire body. He let out a tense, jerky shout of pain and swayed on his knees, his body spasming from side to side as the green light—the same light of the Dalu’Rázj’s destructive power—carved its own runic lines across every single inch of him.
Leandras’ mouth stretched wide in agony as the green lines finished their morbid rippling across his flesh and the horrifying bubbling contorting his face, arms, chest, and legs finally stilled. The air around him shuddered—much like it had under the fury of Ocaiye’s warning to him in her own private clearing—but nothing stirred in the air. Nothing but another moan from the fae’s gaping mouth.
It drew out of him in one long, seamless breath, rising into a growl and then a single hoarse shout. His voice lasted longer than anyone’s lungs could possibly hold until he thrust the dagger into the air above his head and clasped it in both hands. His breath returned to him in a ragged gasp, his chest heaving. The effort that one swift movement took must have been enormous; his arms shook violently just to keep the dagger poised in the air above him.
The glowing green light spilling through the symbols rent across his flesh pulsed brighter. Leandras drew breath after desperate, jagged breath, fighting against the force consuming him from the inside out.
Jessica knew what came next. She knew exactly how awful it would be and how hard she’d have to force herself not to intervene. All the knowing in the world couldn’t make her look away, even as she also struggled to breathe.
This was the most insane, the most powerful, and the most horrifying spell in existence.
And the worst of it hadn’t even happened yet.
Chapter 26
Leandras next guttural roar startled her so much, Jessica had to breathe again.
He shouted the next words of the Thon-Rothím—old words that sounded entirely different than any other element of the Xaharí tongue.
Words, Jessica realized, that didn’t really belong to him.
All the same, he forced them out in hoarse barks, one right after the other, then plunged the upraised dagger down with both hands and buried it into the soft dip of flesh just below his sternum.
Jessica cried out in horror and scrambled to her feet. Knowing it was coming was completely different than watching him do it. That was perfectly clear now.
“Holy...” She covered her mouth again and stared at the Laen’aroth, who’d doubled ove
r beneath his own striking blow and now slowly, achingly straightened on his knees one more time.
His lips were pulled back in a snarl of pain and rage and concentration. Then he jerked down on the knife and screamed.
Jessica couldn’t move. She stood frozen outside his circle, unable to help him and unable to look away. She started shaking when Leandras continued, shoving the dagger downward inch by agonizing inch toward his navel. He never stopped screaming.
It was even worse to see no blood spraying from the gash in his belly or coating the blade in slick, sticky red. Instead, the same light blazing through his cracked flesh everywhere else now bloomed from the gruesome tear in his core.
Jessica’s gut turned over on itself. Gagging on an empty stomach left her heaving for breath, but that was it.
And there was nothing she could do until Leandras finished the final piece. Which, at this point, was absolutely out of his control.
The walls of her room shivered. The light flickered. A rumbling snarl came from everywhere and nowhere as the green light in the Laen’aroth’s belly flared with blinding intensity.
He jerked the dagger away, and it clattered to the floor. Sparks flew where the spinning blade clashed against the smoking, hissing black lines on the wood.
If she’d thought his screams as he’d knifed himself from top to bottom were bad, this was even worse.
It wasn’t even Leandras’ voice. It was the dark, multi-toned clamor of hundreds of voices Jessica had heard countless times from behind the Gateway door—the voices that had whispered so enticingly for her to come open the final gate between worlds before it was time. Only now, those voices howled in rage and a vengeful resistance to lend voice to the Laen’aroth’s undoing.
She thought it would never stop.
His head whipped back far enough and fast enough to break his neck, but his screams carried on and on in his voice and thousands of others. In the same impossibly grotesque way, his back contorted in the wrong direction, splitting the tear in his belly even wider until Jessica was sure it would kill him.
The Spellcast Gate (Accessory to Magic Book 5) Page 27
