Chapter Twenty-Two
A gust of warm air hit me when I pushed open the library doors. Tapered candles in sconces lined the walls. Their flickering light cast the room in seething shadow. Row after row of books with faded spines and indecipherable titles circled the room, rising to touch a ceiling so dark it seemed infinite.
Valentine knelt in the center of the room, barefoot and shirtless. The delicate light played off the paleness of his skin like sunshine through a prism. If I kept him in the corners of my vision, colors danced in the air around his body. If I turned my head, they disappeared.
I advanced slowly but Valentine ignored me. He bent over the delicate parquet floor, carving twisted patterns into the inlay with a sharpened piece of bone. I watched him work. The muscles of his arm corded as he forced the bone deeper into the wood, tracing jagged grooves into the once pristine floor. The grimoire lay open next to him and I shivered at the sight of it. I could read the words on the page from where I stood: A Spell for Binding.
After so many minutes that I wanted to scream, Valentine finally seemed satisfied. He stood and regarded his work with a critical eye. Then he finally noticed me. The full force of his regard was like a crushing weight that pressed me into the darkness.
"You must enter the circle of your own accord." His voice twisted and turned like the lick of a candle's flame.
Entering the circle was like stepping into a sauna. His magic was hot and seething. It pushed at me and tried to force me back. I shoved forward until we were so close that I could see the sheen of sweat coating his bare chest.
He smiled. "It's so nice to have a willing sacrifice."
I shivered despite the heat that rolled down my body in waves. "Stop stalling. Let's get this over with."
"So young. So impatient." He raised the bone knife and the wicked point was inches from my cheek. This close, I was very aware that the length of bone was as long as my forearm and almost as thick. He opened the hand that wielded it and I was surprised to see that the hilt end was jagged, each toothy dip razor sharp.
"Does it cut you?" I breathed the question.
Valentine gripped it hard enough that blood oozed from between his fingers. "If I allow it." He opened his hand. Underneath the smear of blood lay unbroken skin.
He held out the bone blade and I grasped it gently, not hard enough to cut myself, not yet.
"We use this to remind us that power cuts two ways. It moves for us and against us."
The bone was heavy in my hand. I wanted to put it down but instead held it with two hands, my fingers skirting the deadly edge.
Valentine bent and picked up an empty wine goblet from where it stood just inside the circle. "You must drink of me as I drink of you," he intoned, softly.
"You want to bleed me?" I glared at him. "That wasn't part of the deal."
"Saying it—wanting it—isn't enough," he hissed. "There has to be a ritual. You must tie your desire to the physical plane."
I glared at him but couldn't take the fire that burned in his eyes. I looked away. "Fine. You first."
"Of course," he said with mock chivalry. He took back the bone knife and, with a quick movement, slashed a line in the bend of his wrist. He held the goblet underneath to catch the flow. Blood rushed out inhumanly fast and it seemed impossible that it would ever stop. I watched unbelieving as the wound knit and closed. After only a moment, the skin was smooth and unmarked once again.
He handed back the knife with a smirk. I gripped it as lightly as I could and closed my eyes as the blade sank into the pad at the base of my palm. The pain was sharp and immediate. I dropped the bone knife and it clattered to the ground, coming to a stop just inside the circle.
Valentine held the goblet while my injured hovered over it. Blood oozed reluctantly and I squeezed with the fingers of my other hand to encourage it to flow more quickly. Our blood mingled in the glass, dark red and indistinguishable.
When he was satisfied, Valentine pulled the goblet away. I pressed my injured hand into the thin linen of my dress. I felt the creeping wetness of my own blood against the skin of my thigh.
He brought the goblet under his nose and inhaled deeply like a connoisseur with a fine vintage. "Now we drink."
His long fingers tipped up the glass and his throat worked as he swallowed our blood. I shivered in disgust. It was over quickly and he offered me the glass. Even half-empty the blood swirled inside, thick and dark.
I brought the goblet to my lips and swallowed in one long chug, trying to taste as little of it as possible. He grabbed it from me and threw it aside. I heard the crash of glass against the wall as we stared into each other's eyes.
"Say it now," he commanded.
"A gift freely given." The words seemed to float in front of me and hold before fading away to the ether.
I waited.
"Is that it?" I asked.
He watched me silently. A satisfied smile played in the corner of his lips.
The burning started slowly. Fire crawled through my skin and licked at my insides. Whips of flame flayed the skin from my bones. I tried to scream but my throat was raw and burnt.
I fell to my knees and crawled along the floor. My hands pushed against the sides of the circle but I was trapped. I was dying and burning. There was no escape. The runes etched into the wood underneath my fingers trapped me inside a deadly furnace, blinded and deafened. The thick stench of burnt flesh assailed my nostrils.
I relaxed into the excruciating pain. It would all be over soon.
The spell broke and my relief was like a rush of cold water. My cheek lay against the wood of the floor, still within the confines of the circle that was now just marks on the ground. I sat up and my hands traced over my arms. The skin was smooth and healed. Candlelight cast caramel-colored shadows down the clean expanse of my body. The fire was gone as if it never existed.
I got up on my hands and knees but couldn't make it any higher. I felt empty, hollowed out. My insides had been sucked dry. I touched the ground and there was no spark of awareness with the earth. The gentle current that ran through the world was gone as if it had never existed. Though my vision was intact, I was blinded.
Valentine stretched above me like a contented cat. He loomed large and I shrank back. My limbs were heavy weights as I tried to move. My body seemed cumbersome and useless like too much dead weight. Is this how it felt to be truly human?
"Is it done?" My voice came reed-thin.
"You did wonderfully." He cast me a sardonic smile. "I haven't felt this good in years."
His once-pale skin was infused with health. It was as if some of the gold and brown in my own complexion had seeped into his. His eyes were bright and dark. Where there should have been pale color, cold flames licked in the depths of his irises. He looked more beautiful—more perfect—than he ever had before.
I rose to my feet slowly and managed to stand, wobbling only slightly as I fought to stay upright. I couldn't pull my gaze from him. My power burned under his skin. He was ablaze with light like an avenging archangel. I was adrift in an endless sea, cut off from everything that I used to be.
There'd been no moment to strike him down, as if any effort on my part would have succeeded. If Cynthie wanted Valentine dead, she was welcome to try for him on her own. I was fully human—worse than useless.
"I'm leaving now." Regret tinged my words and I pushed the feeling aside. I thought of Zach and Sam waiting for me to take them back home. It wasn't just about me anymore.
"It occurs to me, that a gift given can also be returned." He spoke idly, as if we discussed the weather or recent gossip from the village below. "That isn't an outcome that I'm willing to contemplate."
Marta materialized beside him. I had been completely unaware of her presence until that moment. For all I knew, she simply melted from the wall. The cold and emotionless set of her face was in stark contrast with Valentine's dark triumph.
I looked warily from one to the other. "Don't—"
"Goodbye, Hex
."
Marta was on me before there was time to react. I might have reacted more quickly if ot wasn't the face of a friend that stared back at me. My hands came up but she knocked my arms aside as if they were matchsticks. My back hit the ground with a sickening crack. Pain was immediate and devastating.
I fought her like a child against a ravaging animal. Her fingers were claws that ripped down my arms and left a burning trail as they rent the skin. I pushed at her body but it was like trying to move a mountain. Her breath on my face was dank and dark like freshly turned soil.
Her eyes were fathomless. There was nothing behind them—no humanity to appeal to and no concept of anything but hunter and prey. Marta reared back and raised her arm, readying for the killing blow.
My eyes closed and I prayed that my friends were safely away.
Air rushed over me as Marta was pulled away. Cynthie's face was a rage-filled mask as her arms wrapped around Marta's neck from behind. I scrambled back as the two women fought. Marta was strong, but Cynthie was fast. They locked together as each tried to do as much damage to the other as possible
"So much excitement." Valentine advanced on me like he had all the time in the world, achingly slow. We both knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. "It seems you've run out of champions."
Cynthie's hair was torn from it's ponytail and blood oozed down the curve of Marta's face from a cut on her cheek as they circled each other. I was on my own.
With every step Valentine took, I inched closer to death. He knelt beside me and brushed a piece of matted hair out of my eyes. "Be dignified in death," he whispered. "Face it with grace."
I leaned as far from him as my awkward positioning would allow, my injured back screaming in protest. Something sharp sliced into the pads of my fingers and I looked frantically behind me. The bone-knife lay under my hand. It must have been kicked across the room during the struggle.
Valentine followed my gaze and smirked. "It's no use fighting. Welcome the peace of oblivion."
His voice lulled me like the gentle bob of ocean waves. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be at peace. It hurt so much to fight.
"Do something, Hex!" Cynthie screamed, before Marta silenced her with a sharp blow to the head.
Valentine leaned closer and I pushed against him. It was like trying to roll a boulder. What little strength I had left was barely enough to keep me upright. I was no match for him.
His breath whispered against my cheek, so close that I could feel his smile against my skin.
"It only hurts for a moment."
I gripped the sharpened bone hard enough that it dug painfully into the skin of my fingers. I wouldn't give in to him.
"Would it help if I allowed you a small revenge?" Valentine leaned back and spread his arms wide, his expression disdained any attempt I might make to hurt him. "Take the first blow. A gift freely given."
Anger surged in me at the mockery in his voice. It wasn't enough just to kill me. He had to draw out the moment, revel as I faced my own helplessness. I couldn't sink willingly into darkness. I wouldn't die without a fight.
I reared up with all the strength I had left, the broken parts of my body screamed in protest as they were pulled even farther out of place. I slashed at his face, wanting to spoil the perfection of him if only for a moment.
Weakness marred my aim. His arm came up as a shield and his body moved forward in response. In a movement to perfect to choreograph the blade sank deep into his chest and would have gone deeper if my clenched fist weren't wrapped so tightly around the hilt.
Valentine regarded me in surprise but recovered quickly and pressed forward. "My turn," he murmured.
I closed my eyes and flinched away from a blow that never came.
My eyes opened to see Valentine regarding his own body, eyes wide and uncomprehending. An ever-widening circle of dark red formed around the bone still protruding from his chest. Gripping the blade with both hands, he ripped it free and stared at is if it were something he'd never seen before.
Blood spread quickly, soaking the fabric of his shirt. The bone-knife clattered to the floor and Valentine collapsed slowly after it. He gripped my arm and whispered.
A gift freely given.
Cynthie was at my side and pulling me upright. We backed away but neither of us could tear our gaze away. It was like watching paper burn. Valentine folded slowly into himself, his own weight seemingly too much for him to bear. The edges of him darkened and curled. We watched as his form coiled in on itself, slowly fading away to nothing.
The crude outline of a man was singed onto the wooden floor. There was no body—no hint that Valentine had ever existed save for the faint scent of sulfur and spice.
"What was he?"
"I don't know." I might not ever know. Whatever Valentine may have been, he was nothing now. That would have to be enough.
"Are you okay?" Cynthie asked, breathlessly.
I was more than okay. Electricity hummed through my veins like lifeblood. I looked down at my hands. The skin was smooth and unmarred. There was no pain. My body was energized and primed to spring into motion. I could jump a thirty-foot fence or run a thousand miles.
I had my magic back.
Marta lay face-up on the floor. Her neck twisted at an odd angle and her eyes were glassy and dull, staring up into nothing.
I stepped away from Cynthie and bent over Marta's still body. Sister Mohan was still inside their somewhere, lost to a place where I couldn't follow. I closed her eyes with a gentle sweep of one hand and said a quick prayer for safe passage. My gaze met Cynthie's as I knelt on the floor. She was tense, muscles coiled with angry energy.
"You were supposed to leave."
Her shrug was more of a twitch. "I guess that's one more favor you owe me."
The air between us was charged, tense. Cynthie was unpredictable. I had no idea what to expect from her next.
"Let's get out here," she said on a harshly exhaled breath.
She walked off without waiting for me to follow her. I picked the grimoire up off the floor and felt that familiar charge as I held it. It was tempting to leave it here among the wreckage, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I clenched it tight and hurried after Cynthie.
We walked through the abandoned hallways of the villa until we made it outside. The heat of the night wrapped around me like a warm blanket. There was nothing left to fear from the dark.
Wayward Page 33
