Rowan etched sigils up the sides, Sebastian added the binding script, and I infused it with spirit fire. If we got it right, it’ll make quick work of collecting this thing.
When I uncap it, the flame inside doesn’t flicker, itpulseswith intention—mine and Sebastian’s. The two of us bound our spirit affinity with as much power as we could to contain this asshole and end the suffering it’s causing.
The moment the spirit fire lashes out, the demon shrieks. It’s a ‘nails-on-the-chalkboard’ kind of shrill scream, the vibration of which crawls up my spine with jagged teeth.
I’m not sure if Asher hears it, because he’s babbling on about the pie-eating contest later this afternoon and his favorite scene in the movie,Stand By Me, but Wylder definitely does. He winces beside me, the casting of his spell only faltering for a moment before he regains focus.
But I’m in the zone and have the bottle activated and held at the ready even before the vibration of the demon’s cry has stopped rattling my bones.
“Ready?” I ask.
Wylder’s hand lifts beside mine, his long fingers forming a lattice rune with three sharp intersecting angles. “Let me know when you’ve got it and I’ll lock the gate.”
I twist my wrist, tugging on the siphon thread I removed from the old man. The long, silvery filament is still connected to the demon beast, andwhen I tuck the frayed end into the blue jar, our spell draws the tether into the bottle.
That’s when I speak the binding:
“Not of flesh. Not of bone. Not of breath. Siphon none.”
Like a high-powered motor turning a winch, the silver thread the demon was using to consume its victim’s soul energy pulls into the bottle until it’s stretching the beast itself.
Sebastian must have some serious juice because the spell is so powerful, it distorts the incorporeal, screaming demon, and it is sucked in and swallowed into the little blue bottle.
The moment I nod and reach to close the stopper, Wylder snaps the bottle shut with an impassable magical gate.
The stopper melts into glass. The opening disappears as the bottle is sealed as one. And the pressure in the airdrops.
Still contained within Wylder’s privacy spell, I search the crowd, seeking the other people who had been connected to the demon. All the silver threads are gone, and everyone seems to be free of the draining.
Asher is saying something about remembering to leave the bracelet on until Yule, or at least wearing it when he leaves the house…
And then it’s done. Asher claps him on the shoulder, steering him back toward the cider tent looking ten years younger than he had just a few minutes ago.
Wylder drops the privacy bubble and my ears pop, no one any the wiser about the demon parasite that had just been feeding on them.
I take a deep breath and slide my arm around Asher’s back, giving my bestie a side hug. “Good job with the distraction.”
He bends and kisses the side of my head. “Good job with the demon vanquishing. We did it, right?”
“Hell yeah, we did.”
We step apart, and I check in with Wylder. “Okay, what now?”
He holds the compass so I can see the swirling silver of the face. It has once again gone black. “Rinse and repeat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Cutting off demon feeding is remarkably satisfying. My phone buzzes in my pocket forty-five minutes after setting the old man free, and I pull it out to read the message. “We’re supposed to meet the other group by the corn maze.”
“Where’s that?” Asher finishes with his candy apple and tosses the sticky plastic wrap into a garbage can.
“Near the back, where the fairgrounds connect with the farm field next door.”
Feeling drained but on the high of three successful banishments, Wylder, Asher, and I make our way through the midway and over toward the entrance of the cornstalk maze.
I’m focused, wondering about the effect our efforts will have on the stability of the ley lines, when a rush of air slams between my shoulder blades and I’m thrust forward.
My boots catch on uneven ground, and I’m in an awkward scramble to get my feet under me when I pitch face-first toward a patch of muddy earth churned up by festival traffic.
