“There’s nothing, but thank you.” His eyes slide shut, and his next breath is stuttered. Most of them have been, but without talking, they seem louder. A stuttered breath that tears up my lungs.
Marissa rests her hand on my shoulder likeI’mthe one in pain. Like I’m the one about to lose a father. “Never thought I’d see the day a witch cried over a shifter.”
“Never thought I’d see the day a shifter was trapped by black magick, but here we are.” I swallow the bitterness of this entire situation. “It’s not fair, and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing any of us can do.”
“It’s not your fault,” she whispers, moving her hand to play with my hair, stroking it in comfort.
“We dragged you into war.”
“Youdid nothing.”
That’s the problem.Alaric may have been dying from age and loss of his mate, but the black magick was an addition no one counted on.
If only there was something. Something…something—What did Mom say?
“Black magick is something else entirely. To remove it, a witch would have to take it into themselves, becoming Dark in the process.”
Black magick works on Dark acts—death, mainly. I’d never heard of anyone taking it, but I suppose our souls are susceptible to every kind of magick, if we so desired. When Harlow accidentally killed two people, her soul was opened to Darkness. After the loss and later return of her powers, she accepted it back into her alongside her element, but there’s nothing really to say shehadto. It was natural at that point, though. A regaining of all possibilities rather than made so by another death.
So if I willingly open my soul?—
Throwing Marissa’s hand off, I come up to sit on the edge of Alaric’s bed, not fully thinking through what comes next. It’s only a little Darkness, and without murdering, my soul should remain intact. I think. Realizing now how little I actually know about this kind of magick…
I grasp his hand, tuning out Marissa who immediately asks, “What are you doing?” and bow my head until my forehead presses to his withered skin.
Hecate, help me and this wolf. Don’t let this fail.
If I take on the Darkness, am I even allowed to pray to Her?
Not knowing how, and probably insane for attempting it, I mentally call out to the Darkness while my fingers skirt up the man’s arm, tentatively touching the black tendrils, visible to my eye only.
Hello? Darkness?
Not my finest moment, but anything is worth trying.
I, Carina Hargrove, offer myself to you.
Did that do it?
I want to embrace you.
How does one embrace Darkness?
By turning away from Hecate, of course. Turning away from nature and my elemental magick, I send all focus into the tendril beneath my palm. Feeling it glide like silk beneath my fingertips, snaking around Alaric’s arm.
Come to me.
And then it works. The snake-like sensation slithers from his arm to mine, upwards to my neck where it links into a collar that can never be removed. It pushes down onto my skin, bowing my back beneath the weight of a new master.
You want this?A voice asks, as slithery as the sensation attaching itself to me is.
Yes.
There’s a chuckle, one low and malicious that numbs my insides.You say that now. Darkness isn’t Light magic.
It nudges at my soul—don’t ask me how, because who the hell knows—shoving aside my water powers to make room.
I’m aware. I want it.
