She thanked him, and
we said our goodbyes. As we left, I glanced back at Michael. The big man stood outside of his cottage, looking out of place and perfectly at ease at the same time.
“Ready?” Xavier’s voice drew my attention.
I turned to the poet. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
13
The Devil
The Devonian had been a pain in the arse to acquire, but the task had given me time to think.
My fate was set, but Carrow’s wasn’t. I could use the time I had left—before hell claimed me—to make sure that she was set up well for the future. No matter what I did, however, I couldn’t fall for her any more than I already had.
Easier said than done
Fortunately, I’d managed to meet everyone at the edge of the clearing at the assigned time. The sun was low in the horizon, and the sky was alight with a fiery sunset that made the world glow.
My gaze sought out Carrow. She stood next to Eve and Quinn. Eve was showing them a large piece of paper. She pointed, speaking. Mac and Seraphia sat on a broken old bench near the wall. They looked exhausted and pale, their eyes darkly shadowed.
Worry twisted inside me, an entirely unfamiliar feeling. Absently, I rubbed my chest.
Was this what becoming mortal felt like?
Bloody awful.
Carrow spotted me, and a smile broke out across her face.
Warmth flowed through me, no longer quite so unexpected and strange. I shook it off, tightening my grip on the small jar of Devonian, and strode over to join them.
“Did you get it?” Carrow asked.
“Yes.” I held it up.
Eve folded up the paper and tucked it in her pocket. She held out her hand. “Excellent. Shouldn’t take me long to make the potion.”
“Eve is going to perform the spell,” Carrow said. “She’s the most qualified, given her line of work.”
I nodded and handed her the jar. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Eve took the Devonian and went to join Mac and Seraphia. A small cauldron was set up on the end of their bench. Quinn joined them, but Carrow stayed at my side, her shoulder inches from mine. I could sense the heat of her, and I clenched my fists, resisting the desire to touch her.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.” I did feel different being mortal, if I were willing to admit it. Which I wasn’t. Not to her, at least. She didn’t deserve that burden.
“I wish you’d consider what I offered,” she said.
Her blood. Regularly. My heart raced. “No. Even if I did, you heard what the Oracle said. It’s impossible.”
“We’ll find a way to fix this, Grey. I swear it.”
I nodded, though I didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t even cast my mind in that direction. I hadn’t known hope in so long that I couldn’t conceive it. She’d walked into my life, changing everything. Now, with my fate spelled out for me, that hope had been yanked away.
I wouldn’t seek it again.
I’d been alone in life, and I would be alone in the afterlife. It was fate.
I’d do what was necessary and keep moving forward, but hope was lost to me.
“Almost done,” Eve called. The cauldron in front of her smoked a pale yellow, giving off a scent of hay and flowers. There was no visible flame, but fae magic was unfamiliar to me. Maybe she didn’t need fire for brewing potions.
We watched in silence, though I desperately wanted to speak more to Carrow. Now wasn’t the time, however, and I didn’t know what to say, anyway.
Finally, Eve stood, the cauldron in her hands. Because she’d used no flame to brew the potion, it was cool enough to touch. It glowed, illuminating her face with a pale golden light.
She handed the cauldron to Quinn, who held it like it was his firstborn, carefully and securely. A bull could charge him, and he wouldn’t drop it.
Eve pulled the paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. It showed a detailed drawing of the wall and the ground in front of it. Symbols had been sketched over both, parts of the spell that I recognized.
“We’re going to need to paint the potion onto the wall and ground,” Eve said. “But it’s a complicated design. It’ll take ages if I try to do it alone, and we don’t have that kind of time.” She glanced up, as if looking for the moon, which was slowly rising. It was full dark already, and the streetlamps were burning.
“We’ll help,” Carrow said. “But I should paint the wall. Mac and Seraphia became cursed when they got too close to the wall. I was immune, though.”
“I’ll take a brush, too,” I said.
“But—”
“My days are numbered anyway, Carrow. The least I can do is help with this.”
She frowned, pain flashing in her eyes. Eve looked at me, bemused, but I didn’t elaborate. She was smart enough not to ask.
“Thanks.” Eve carefully tore the map into four sections, then handed them around, skipping Mac and Seraphia but keeping one for herself. She went to the bench and gathered pots and slender brushes. She handed them around, then filled the little pots with the potion that she’d made. “Do your best to replicate the design as you see it on the paper.”
I nodded and took mine, then met Carrow’s gaze.
“This is like art class for the damned,” she said.
I chuckled.
“Come on.” Eve got to work.
Carrow and I headed straight for the stone wall, while Eve and Quinn stopped in the courtyard.
Eve frowned at it. “This grass is a problem.”
As I began to paint the symbol on the stones, Eve knelt and pressed her hand to the ground. Her magic flared briefly, and the grass began to wilt. The flowers shriveled and died until there was nothing but dirt and gravel for the first ten meters in front of the wall.
“That’s better.” Eve looked at Quinn. “Do your best to paint the potion onto the dirt. Drip it, if you must. We need to get the symbols in place for the spell to have something to grip onto.”
Carrow and I stopped in front of the wall and looked at each other.
“Your eyes are glowing green again,” I said.
“It’s something about this wall and this curse.” She frowned at me. “The dark curse isn’t getting you, though. Not the way it got Mac and Seraphia.”
“Thank fates for small favors, maybe.” I tried to smile, but it felt unnatural. I turned to the wall and began to paint.
Together, the four of us worked. The paint glowed with magic as we drew the symbols, and I could feel the pulsing evil in the wall.
“Can you sense it?” Carrow asked. “Whatever is polluting this place?”
“I do. Feels like it’s been here a long time. Like it’s grown roots.”
“But it’s still not getting to you, is it?” Worry echoed in her voice, and her paintbrush stilled as she looked at me. “Not the way it got to Mac and Seraphia?”
“I'm fine.”
She frowned but didn’t press me. We returned to our work, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Every now and again, I caught her looking back—sometimes at her friends, sometimes at the statue of Councilor Rasla, a frown twisting her lips.
“You don’t like him,” I said.
“I don’t like what I’ve learned of him.”
“He was a bastard,” I said. “But long dead now, thank fates. Stuck in his afterlife.”
Like I soon would be.
The morbid thought turned my stomach, and I refocused on the wall. The moon continued to rise, and the hour grew late.
“How is everyone coming?” Eve asked. “We’re running out of time.”
Carrow
I looked up at the moon, which was reaching its zenith. Eve was right—the moon was climbing.
My shoulder ached from holding the paintbrush upright for so long, but I pushed on, looking down at the directions she’d given me. I was no artist, but I’d replicated it pretty well. The paint glowed and pulsed with magic, giving me hope that this would work.
Finally, we were done.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Grey’s looked better than mine, but the designs on the ground were a bit of a disaster. Eve and Mac had been required to paint the potion over gravel and dirt, which was nearly impossible to do.
Eve tilted her head as she stared down at it. “I know it looks like hell, but I think it will get the job done. It’s just meant to provide a conduit for the spell.”
“Are you ready to cast it?” Grey asked.
Eve nodded and pulled the paper out of her pocket. The four of us lined up at the edge of the painted ground. I could feel Mac’s and Seraphia’s hopeful gazes on us as Eve began to recite the words.
I looked down at the paper she was reading. The spell was fairly long and complicated, a series of words in a language I didn’t recognize.
Eve’s voice carried at first, but soon began to trail off. I looked at her, concerned.
She frowned back at me, panic in her eyes. “My throat is tightening up when I try to read the words. Like the spell won’t let me.”
I took the paper. “Let me try.”
The words were unrecognizable, but they came easily to my tongue. As I read them, power began to flicker all around, the painted lines glowing ever brighter. The words came ever more smoothly, and anxiety tightened in my chest.
Why was this so easy for me?
What was it about this evil place that called to me so? Was it the power of Orion’s Heart that I’d absorbed? Had it made me evil, as I’d feared?
No.
I couldn’t be dragged down by fear. Not when we were so close. Not when Mac’s and Seraphia’s lives hung in the balance.
The magic in the potion pulsed more strongly, making the air vibrate. It shook my muscles, and it took everything I had to remain on my feet. Eve braced herself against Quinn, and Grey gripped my shoulders to steady me as the ground trembled.
A low roar swept through the clearing, as if the wind were waking.