Crestia's face scrunched up as she looked at the closed door. “What the hell are you doing in that apartment that requires a silencing spell?”
Felspar’s grin was positively wicked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Crestia’s face went blank. “Duh. That’s why I asked.”
Celise snapped her fingers at the two. “Less talking. We’ve got business to get done.”
The elf led them into the small apartment. Celise didn’t bother to take in her surroundings. She didn’t care. She wanted to get this done. After pulling a small dagger from her cloak, Celise ran it across the palm of her hand. Crimson blood immediately welled up from the cut. She stared at Felspar expectantly.
He pulled out his own blade from a sheath on his leg, cut his palm, then held it out to her. She took it, letting their blood mingle. “I give my binding oath that I will answer Felspar’s summons when he calls in the favor I owe him. If I do not fulfill my promise, I will die. I accept the terms of the blood oath.” A sharp sting ran up her arm as the magic sealed her promise.
Felspar nodded as he released her hand. “Now, we need four supernatural beings with some decent amount of power. You’ll be able to sense if they’re using blood magic?”
Celise nodded. “The Book of the Dead has given me many advantages.” She heard the smugness in her voice, and it annoyed her because she really didn’t have anything to be smug about. She’d lost the damn book.
“While you’re doing that, your sisters will assist me in setting up the ritual,” Felspar continued, his tone clipped and business-like. “I’ll need their help preparing the circles and ensuring the spell’s stability. This isn’t amateur work, and if anything is out of place, we’ll all end up regretting it.”
Celise turned to survey her sisters. “You heard the man. Do what he says and try not to screw it up. This spell is going to work. We don’t have the luxury of mistakes.”
Crestia rolled her eyes but nodded, her usual smirk replaced with a look of determination. Limaria gave a single, measured nod, her silver hair catching the dim light of the apartment. Thraya hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Celise, a question lingering in her gaze. Celise raised an eyebrow, daring her to voice it. Thraya said nothing, instead pressing her lips into a thin line. Hishta, as always, remained quiet, her amber eyes filled with a mix of unease and curiosity.
Celise turned back to Felspar, her restlessness growing with each second that passed and she wasn’t out bringing the human realm to its knees. “I’ll be back with your sacrifices soon.”
With a flick of her wrist, she opened another portal, the edges of it writhing with dark energy. The air hummed with power as she stepped through, and her sisters’ presence faded behind her.
The tavern Celise arrived at was a pit of darkness, even more so than the one she’d just left. The air was thick with the scent of unwashed bodies, spilled liquor, and the faint, coppery tang of blood. Shadows clung to every corner, and the low murmur of conversation barely masked the undercurrent of tension that simmered in the room.
She stepped forward, her cloak swishing around her as her boots echoed against the grimy wooden floors. The patrons turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from wary to openly hostile. None of them dared challenge her. She knew they could feel the power—a dark, oppressive force that made the air heavy—rolling off her in waves.
Celise’s gaze swept the room, her eyes locking onto her first target—a pixie sitting in the corner, hunched over a drink that looked far too dark to be anything innocent. This was no fluttery-winged, flower-loving pixie. This one was a little over a foot and a half tall. Its thin body was draped in tattered clothing, and its sharp, angular face was twisted into a permanent sneer. Perfect.
Celise strode over, her smirk widening as the pixie looked up and froze, its dark eyes narrowing. “You smell like blood magic. How quaint.”
The pixie gave Celise a look of pure contempt, baring sharp teeth. “What do you want, sprite?”
“I need you, and I don’t have time for drama.” Before the pixie had a chance to respond, Celise reached out, her shadows coiling around like snakes. The pixie struggled, snarling and cursing, but Celise’s grip was unrelenting.
“Don’t worry,” she mocked. “I’ll make it quick. Eventually.”
Her next target was a female warlock seated near the bar whose dark magic practically radiated from her like a beacon. Celise approached her without hesitation, pulling the pixie along with her wrapped in the shadow tendrils. The pixie’s sharp eyes took in the warlock’s black robes and the faint, red glow that clung to her fingertips.
“You’ve been playing with dark magic.” Celise clucked her tongue at the female. “And now, you’re going to pay for it.”
The warlock’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “And who are you to collect that debt, sprite?”
Celise didn’t answer. Instead, she raised her hand. The shadows surged forward and wrapped around the warlock’s wrists and throat. The warlock’s smile faltered as she struggled against the dark tentacles of power, her magic sparking uselessly against them.
“Ah, there’s that look.” Celise’s tone dripped with mock sympathy. “The moment you realize you’re not nearly as powerful as you thought.”
Celise glanced around the room and though some watched her, other patrons seemed to be very blatantly avoiding looking in her direction. Smart supernaturals. She moved her hands together causing the shadows to pull the pixie and warlock against one another, then Celise manipulated the magic to wrap them in one strong tendril. She turned her attention back to the room.
Her eyes landed on a troll. He was next. It stank of death, the foul odor clinging to its thick, leathery skin as it loomed near the back of the tavern. Its massive frame was hunched over, and its yellowed eyes scanned the room with a predator’s gaze. Celise approached it with the same confidence she’d shown with the others, her smirk never faltering.
“You reek of human blood—young, innocent blood.” She wrinkled her nose. “And here I thought trolls were supposed to be subtle.” Celise would take great pleasure in ending this one’s life. She could admit that she’d let the darkness in and reign, but she still had boundaries, and kids were off limits. Even when she sent the packs’ children away, she’d been careful not to let her magic hurt them.
The troll snarled, its massive hands curling into fists. “You’ve got a death wish, sprite.”
“Perhaps. But it’s not my death you should be worried about.”
