“This is the work of dragon fae,” Gerty said, smoothing her silver hair and lowering her chin to look at Silas over her bifocals. “Nickelova’s magic, I’m sure of it. Dragon fae magic is rare and I fear, stronger than mine.”
“Can you break the curse?” Silas asked.
Gerty approached Jason’s body, drawing her wand. “Water, water, ever clear, take this blight and disappear.” A spray of thick fluid flowed over Jason, winding up and down his body like liquid mercury. His skin glowed red and the spell went up in steam.
“Oh dear. It appears Nickelova expected my intervention.”
“B—but, you can try something else, right?” Laina placed a hand on Gerty’s shoulder.
Gerty pursed her lips and tapped her wand on the palm of her hand.
“Let me try,” Selene said. Every face turned in her direction.
Laina wrinkled her brow. “This is serious. A dragon fae curse.” She glanced at Silas, a shadow of condescension on her features. “Tell her, Silas.”
Selene interrupted before Silas could say a word. “The artifacts of the Fireborn Primary were given to us by the goddess herself, along with the knowledge of how to use them. I’ve been trained for this.”
“I thought that was all legend. Have you actually broken a curse before?” Silas asked.
Selene sighed, then reluctantly shook her head. “Well, no. Not in actual practice. But I know how.”
Gerty gestured toward Jason. “She can’t make this worse. If anything, it will give me a chance to think of what to try next.”
“Grateful is researching an antidote in her grimoire,” Silas said. “We could wait until she comes back.”
“Who knows how long that could take?” Gerty stepped away from the bed, guiding Silas to the back of the room with a gentle hand. “Let the girl give it a shot.”
The Fireborn alpha met Selene’s gaze. “Do it.”
Swallowing hard, Selene approached the bed. Was she really about to do this? Anxiety made her mind go blank. She tried to remember the ritual as she set the chest down on the bed beside Jason and opened it. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes to steady her nerves. She’d never done this before—only learned about it in theory. And although she was sure she could execute the ritual correctly, if it didn’t work, she’d feel like a fool, like her entire life’s work was a game.
“Can I have a candle, please?” she asked Laina. “Preferably white.”
The princess left for a moment and returned with a thick white pillar, but nothing to light it with.
“Allow me,” Gerty said. With a flick of her silver wand, a flame sputtered to life. Selene nodded her thanks. Then she got down to business.
Kneeling beside the bed, she laid both hands on Jason’s heart and began to chant in the original language of her people. The series of growls, grunts, and clicks combined with more human syllables was not used anymore, aside from her religious order and the orders of the other packs. But her song was an entreaty unto the goddess, begging for divine intervention.
Selene unbuttoned Jason’s shirt as she sang, revealing his chest. The remnants of a broad, muscular physique lay wasted before her, wiry and sunken. He was emaciated by werewolf standards. Curling her lip, she thanked the goddess they’d caught this. Jason had been ill a long time.
With careful fingers, she uncorked a bottle of ink prepared with a single flake of the Primary’s dried blood and dipped one of the Fireborn claws into it. Still chanting, she started beneath his navel, drawing a pattern of symbols in bright red, careful not to break the skin. The tribal prayer she designed stretched in a straight line, over his stomach, up his neck, to the center of his forehead. When it was complete, she wiped the claw clean on her own robes with a crisscross motion over her heart and returned it to the box.
The air felt thick to her now and the candle’s flame flickered more slowly, although she wondered if the perception was due to her deep meditative state and not a verifiable reality. Was everyone seeing things in slow motion? She retrieved the fang from the box, the same one used to carve the tattoo into Kyle’s shoulder, and placed it on Jason’s forehead where it shone white like a crescent moon.
Her song grew more urgent. The goddess must intervene. She called upon her from the deepest part of herself, from the purest depths of her heart. Carefully, she removed the last artifact—a strip of the Primary’s pelt—and draped it across Jason’s chest, over his nipples.
Were her eyes deceiving her, or had Jason’s skin taken on a purple glow? This was the part of the ritual when she was supposed to draw the curse from his body and bring it into hers. It was why acolytes and priestesses kept themselves pure. A curse would fizzle and die inside her, or so she’d been told. She passed her hands through the heavy air over his body, chanting and sweeping the purple energy toward her chest.
Rapidly, a longing stirred deep within her, an ache blooming low in her abdomen. What was this wanting? She leaned over Jason, her thoughts going places they’d never gone before. She could picture herself on top of him, riding him. She’d never done that, not with anyone. A memory of her hand threading into his filled her mind. Only, the skin of her hand was much too pale. It wasn’t hers at all. This was someone else’s memory.
And then she saw something else in her mind: a road, a river, and a place between two mountains.Come to me, a woman’s voice said. Blue eyes flashed from the face of a blond woman whose ghostly body hovered on the other side of the bed.
Selene ignored the apparition and leaned over to complete the ritual. She ended her song of supplication with a kiss to Jason’s mouth. On contact, liquid flame coursed through her closed lips, down her throat, and into her lungs. She gasped, straightening and clutching her throat. The curse twisted inside her, a wormlike sensation that worked through her torso. In her pain and panic, she couldn’t remember the last part of the spell. Desperately, she gasped for air, unable to free herself of the dark torment.
End how you begancame Artemis’s voice in her head. Every prayer is a circle. Always end the way you began.
Black spots danced in her vision. Frantically, she turned to the candle and blew. Her breath came out black and ignited the flame as if she’d spit gasoline. Fire flared to the ceiling. Hot, cleansing fire. Once the black breath was burned away, the flame extinguished, dowsing itself in a pool of melted wax.
