He tipped his head. “You are healing very quickly. My nephew was careful in how he held your soul for all that time. It was much less damaged than it might be.”
“Bathin?”
He nodded.
“Bathin is your nephew?”
“I was shocked that he released your soul. That boy never lets go of something he likes. Did you know he carried around a dead nebula for centuries? It had a black hole pocket he liked to use to hide things from his father. As if the king didn’t know exactly what he was doing. Even when my nephew was called out before the hordes, maligned, ridiculed for keeping a dead nebula, he held on to that damn thing.
“Wept when his father imploded it.” He glanced at me and frowned. “No, don’t worry, the shock waves won’t hit this end of the galaxy for millions of years.”
“Bathin?” I said a little more quietly. Of all the things I’d expected, it was not that my captor was the uncle of the guy dating my sister.
“Yes. I was there on the beach when he used those scissors. Brilliant.”
“You couldn’t have been. There weren’t any other demons on the beach.”
He lifted his brows.
“In the vortex. You were on the other side of the vortex.”
“Just so. Now, place the Feather across the bowl, please.”
“The Feather won’t burn.” I knew that much about Valkyries: totally flame proof.
“Agreed. Nor can it be damaged. Is that what you are worried about?” He smiled. It was weirdly a look I’d seen on Crow’s face. An almost-uncle kind of proud look when a child has done well.
“I give you my word neither you, nor I, nor this spell will damage any of the items drawn upon for its making. Does that help?”
“No. Why don’t you just skip the spell and tell me about the crime.”
“No, that will not work. Your objection is noted. Please, place the Feather on the bowl.
My hand set the Feather carefully across the brass bowl.
“Very nice. You have a touch for spellwork, Delaney. Of course, your wrist action is a little sloppy, but that corrects over time. Now, place the Heartwood—carefully and without damaging it,” he gave me a big nod and open-mouthed wink, “—behind the bowl, between you and it.”
I bent, pulled the carving out of the crate, and set it—carefully—behind the bowl.
“What spell are you casting?” I asked.
“Just something I cobbled together in my spare time. Please pick up the tissue with the sweat of Death’s brow and place it beneath the Feather in the bowl. I know it would have been more convenient to do carving, tissue, Feather, or tissue, Feather, carving, but spells are tricky things that must be followed just so.
“We wouldn’t want to implode a pet nebula with one wrong word, would we?
“A little more in the middle…yes. That’s it. Very good. And now comes the enjoyable bit, when we—you and I—find out if this risk is worth it. Please hold your palms down over the bowl.”
I fought it, every muscle straining. Sweat slipped down my temple, peppered between my shoulders. But no matter how hard I fought, my hands did as he asked.
He shifted his hands so that our fingertips barely touched. I was sure this was the first time I had seen his fingers. They were roughened, scarred, the ring finger on one hand twisted painfully backward, as if torqued there and left to heal incorrectly. The tip of his pinky, ring, and middle fingers on the other hand were missing. Heavy scarring scored from the back of his thumb near his wrist across the entire back of his hand, fingers, and even the small amount of his palm that I glimpsed. Fighting? Torture? Both?
“Delaney,” he said softly. “Your attention on this, please.” He wiggled his fingers over the bowl, bringing my eyes downward.
“Good then. I’ve decided not to bring fire into this spell. That is a departure for me. One other way to be sure it will not be tracked by—well, you aren’t interested in my recipe, are you? Please, don’t bother answering.
“Clear your mind.” He intoned, then he chuckled. “I’m joking. That doesn’t matter. If I could ask anything of you, it is this: Reserve judgment until you have all the facts.”
I braced for it, the chanting, the bloodwork, fire—even though he’d said he wasn’t going to use fire. Demons lied about everything. It was just safer and smarter to assume there’d be fire mixed in there somehow.
