“You invoke contract law? Here? In this moment?” He waves his hand, and the scroll vanishes. “How delightfully unexpected. Very well, little witch. I am many things, but I am not without honor in my dealings. I have sent a copy of our agreement to your precious solicitor.”
The bonds holding me dissolve, and I collapse forward, catching myself on my hands and knees.
“It has been a pleasure, Poppy Hallowind.” His voice wraps around me like smoke. “Until we meet again.”
The world fractures.
Reality rushes back in a dizzying surge, and I’m suddenly on the manicured lawn of Arcana with Wylder’s panicked face hovering above mine and Rowan racing toward us, dragging Dr. Thorne.
I can still smell the sulfur.
Still feel the heat of that hellscape burning against my skin. And my magic still hums with that terrible, traitorous recognition.
Oh shit. What have I done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Isit on my bed, staring at the crescent moon scar on my forearm where Tharuzel’s claw sliced through my skin. The wound healed the moment I woke on Arcana’s lawn, but the mark remains—a thin, silver brand that pulses faintly in time with my heartbeat.
Signed in blood.
My stomach churns. What did I agree to? What exactly did that contract say?
I told Wylder I fainted from the stress of unlocking my powers, combined with too little sleep and too much magical training. Dr. Thorne examined me, found nothing physically wrong, and prescribed rest and a night of food and friendship.
They bought it.
But the stench of sulfur still clings to my hair, and I feel the heat of that hellscape crawling under my skin.
I need to talk to Asher. To Vale. To someone who can tell me what I’ve done and how bad this really is. Maybe Sebastian.
But what will I say?Hey Ash, you know how we swore to face the world together no matter what? Well, I just signed a demon contract to protect my sisters. No big deal. You’re in for it, right?
I groan inwardly and slide my feet off the bed. There’s nothing I can do about it right now. And maybe it’s not as bad as I’m imagining. I shift over to my little desk and trace the sigil to find peace. The tension twisting my gut eases instantly.
“Right. Okay. I’ve got this.”
With hope burgeoning inside me like a tender bud, I focus on the potted plant on my desk—or rather the pot of dirt that’s been sitting here since my first lesson with Wylder.
Not even a sad little sprout has pushed through the soil.
In truth, I didn’t pay it much attention, and after today’s block removal, I should be able to do way more. Wylder said I have an incredible amount of power. Doesn’t that mean I should be able to make something grow? Wouldn’t that prove that I’m still me and am in the good graces of the Goddess Mother?
Still a child of her Wiccan world.
I press my palms against the cool ceramic pot and close my eyes, focusing on the teachings from that first day. “Earth’s life-giving properties. Encourage the microorganisms. Water flows, adapts, and nurtures. Air carries the potential of all things. And fire is represented by the transformative power of the sun.”
I draw each element together, weaving them into a thread of pure intention, and push that energy to envelop my little plant.
Grow.
The soil shifts. Something stirs beneath my fingers.
I open my eyes and watch as green shoots break through the surface, unfurling into delicate leaves. The stem pushing them through the soil thickens, stretching upward as tiny buds form along the branches.
Relief floods through me. It’s working. I’m still me. The demon mark hasn’t?—
The leaves darken.
