The murdering Contegomancer, Bordow, and Rogan’s dad move behind Botis’s glass cage as though they’re trying to move out of the way. Sorrel stands at the front, her control over the situation clear, and Botis is as close to me as the back corner of his glass walls will allow him to be.
Fucking creeper.
“I contracted with these three members of the High Council to capture, detain, and then hand over Elon Kendrick and Rogan Kendrick. I bartered for the High Council members’ souls and magic upon death and for the branch of Osteomancer magic to be held as collateral until the three promised souls were collected,” Botis declares evenly, and the three High Demons all look shocked as fuck.
“Are you seriously telling me that the High Priest and Priestess of Witches sold you their souls and magic, all so that you would kidnap their sons?” Gremory demands, utterly flabbergasted.
I stare at Sorrel, confused. Why go through all that trouble just to take Rogan and Elon? Why the huge, convoluted ruse just to...and then I realize why. The High Priestess of Witches doesn’t get her hands dirty. She needed someone not just to steal Elon and Rogan, but to fucking torture them until they broke. Who better to do that than a demon? Of course she sold her soul; she knows as soon as she gets what she wants from her sons, she’ll never have to fulfill her end of the bargain because she’ll never die.
Disgust overflows into every inch of me. What kind of mother—fuck that, she was never worthy of that title—what kind of person is capable of such loathsome atrocities against another person, let alone someone related to you by blood?
“Yes, that is my contract,” Botis replies smugly.
Gremory looks at the High Priestess like he still doesn’t believe it. “He’s telling the truth,” she informs him, looking just as pleased as Botis does.
“Fine, she has a contract with him, but Rogan and Elon are not minors, they’re adult mancers. This bitch doesn’t own them. What she wants doesn’t override their rights under witch law or the Accords,” I point out, remembering Prek’s first demon case and how shocked I was that the man traded his children to a demon.
Prek explained that there is a death loophole that allows a demon to kill as part of their contract as long as there aren’t any relatives to file a complaint about the death, but Elon and Rogan can’t die and they absolutely can file a complaint about being kidnapped and having their rights violated.
“Well, little Osteomancer, I am Witch Law, but even if that weren’t the case, I do own Elon and Rogan, and I can do whatever I damn well please with them, including trade them to a demon if I want to,” she coos at me, and bile and rage crawl up my throat. “In fact, the both of them are key components to this case, and I request that they be summoned here to join us.”
My heart turns to lead and crashes down through my body like a runaway elevator.
No.
They can’t come here. She’ll get exactly what she wants if they do.
Sorrel observes the alarm etched all over my face, and she smiles. I flounder, trying to figure out how to stop this.
“No,” I shout out, and the High Demons turn to me. “They have nothing to do with this and shouldn’t be here. This is between me and Botis, not between this piece of shit and the sons she’s trying to have tortured,” I plead.
“We have no way of summoning them last minute unless either of them has a contract we can use—do they?” Gremory asks, his red eyes boring into the High Priestess.
“Why, yes, actually,” she answers sweetly, and her response sends me reeling.
Elon and Rogan don’t have demon marks, what the hell is she talking about?
“If you check the inside wrist of the Osteomancer there, you’ll find a vow that connects her to Rogan. He’ll be able to confirm ownership, and this trial can be done once and for all,” she declares haughtily, and everything inside of me is lost to panic.
No, no, no, no.
She can’t do that.
I can’t let her trick them into trapping Rogan down here too.
“I take it back,” I yell, my declaration echoing off the walls and bones all around me. The terror and panic in my tone slaps me around like it’s a prized fighter and I’m an amateur. “I take back my complaint. Do whatever the hell you want to punish me, but I’m done with this. I’m not going to keep playing into this fucking monster’s hands,” I snarl at the High Demons, tears welling in my eyes.
I reach for the tether again, but I can’t feel or send anything.Fuck. I don’t know if they’re going to put me in demon jail or give me to Botis. I’m not even sure which of those options might be worse or if there’s something else they do to people who make false claims.
Will Rogan ever know what happened to me? Will he ever forgive me for not coming back like I promised?
My throat grows tight with emotion, but I square my shoulders and promise myself I’ll get through whatever it is they’re going to do to me. I know Sorrel won’t give up, that she’ll keep going at Rogan and Elon, but I can only hope that this will buy them time and they’ll be ready for her when she comes for them again.
“It doesn’t work that way, Osteomancer,” Cozen informs me, and I swear I see a hint of empathy gleaming in her white eyes. “Once the trial has started, it doesn’t stop unless the accused is found guilty or not guilty. You can’t end it simply because you want to, and you can’t retract the statements that you’ve already made to the court.”
“So find him not guilty then. Send me on my way, and the next time that fucker shows up anywhere near me, I’ll kill him and whoever sent him,” I seethe at the white demon, desperation crawling up my throat and strangling my words. “Please,” I finally break and beg. “Please,” I say again, pleading for her to help me keep the man I love away from this evil.
She drops her eyes from mine, and it’s as though she’s reached into my chest and ripped all the hope away.
