“Who did this to you?”
“I did it to myself.”
She slid the jacket under his head and lowered him. “Why?”
“I was weak. I needed power.”
Sometimes magic users drew sigils on themselves to boost their magic. Very rarely, they tattooed themselves, a process that was inherently dangerous. Arcane circles and sigils required incredible precision. A tiny mistake could cause one to lose their magic and even their life. She had seen statistics somewhere, and the survival rate of those who resorted to tattoos was tiny, less than one percent.
This wasn’t a tattoo. This was so much worse, a seal permanently burned into his flesh. There were no statistics for this because nobody would be foolish enough to try it.
She slid next to Augustine, so close they were almost touching. Kitty padded closer. Diana felt the familiar insistent push of the cub’s magic. Like a persistent kitten booping her hand with her head, demanding a pet. Kitty was looking for a bond. As always, Diana forced herself to ignore it. The cub tried again, then gave up, and tucked herself into the crook of Diana’s body. She wrapped her arm around Kitty.
She had failed her and Celeste. Thinking about it would only unravel her further, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to spend these last minutes with Augustine.
“Tell me about the circle,” she whispered.
“My father and I never got along. He thought I was irresponsible and naïve, and I thought he was rigid and controlling. A man without dreams, who settled for mundane drudgery and kept trying to drag me down with him. I wanted to be free. I had plans. I wanted to be a spy. Someone who kept my country safe.”
“You would’ve made an exceptional spy,” she told him.
“I would have. When I was in my early twenties, my family was attacked,” Augustine said. “They were well prepared. I found my mother, Verena, and my brother bleeding out on the floor, next to three corpses. My other sister, Seraphina, my aunt, and my father did not survive. We couldn’t afford to look weak. If it became known that the attack had succeeded, our enemies would rip us apart. Half of my family was dead. I had to keep my mother and my remaining siblings safe. So, I became my father. I cloaked myself in illusion, put on his face, and went to work the next day.”
How horrifying.
“For two years I was both him and me, pretending to lead MII, giving myself orders and carrying them out, trying to keep the ship that was our House and our firm afloat in the storm. Except that Primes can see through each other’s illusions. For the deception to succeed, I had to be stronger than any other illusion Prime. I needed the kind of power nobody could match.”
“Did it hurt?”
“It did. It still does every time I use it.”
“You lied to me,” she told him.
“When?”
“You told me your illusions weren’t corporeal, but I saw them hurt Woodward.”
He sighed. “That was a House spell. The seal makes it possible for me to access them without needing to draw a circle. It is called Doppelganger. When I create phantoms, I can infuse them with my magic. Each of them was a supercharged manifestation of my power, so when they came into contact with Woodward, his magic recognized them as a genuine threat. They hurt him, but they can’t actually injure him. So you see, it wasn’t a complete lie.”
“Just a partial one?”
“Yes.” Augustine was looking at her, and his eyes were so warm. “Why is it I tell you all my secrets?”
“Because you like the way I look draped over a tree branch?”
He tried to laugh, coughed instead, and grimaced.
She reached over and caressed his face. She was so bold now, because it didn’t matter. They were dying.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked softly. “When you saw me on the street this morning?”
“I always recognize you.”
“How?”
She shrugged, ignoring a slash of pain from her wounds. “I just know. You are the one. My special one.”
“Why me?”
