The wrakh interrupts me with a loud snort, then mutters, “No shit. Get to the fucking point.”
“Since you haven’t asked, this is Aurora. When she was younger, her mother had a timeline reset spell placed on her. We would like that removed. Then there’s the matter of the hellhound, who’s been under a forgetfulness spell for almost thirty years.”
The chances of him agreeing to remove Aurora’s spell are slim, so there’s almost no chance he’ll remove the spell on Louie. Casting and removing spells on beasts from Hell can be deadly if not done properly.
Iain appears to consider our request while he reclines in his chair and rubs the back of his neck.
“No,” he says with a loud snarl.
“Why?” Aurora shoots back before I can respond.
“Listen, little blackbird. I don’t know what the fuck you are, but you’ve got a hellhound stitched to you and a thread wound tight around that one.”
The wrakh has the audacity to jerk a thumb at me.
“That’s a thread of fate, love. Won’t break. Not in this life or the next.”
His barking laugh makes my shadows writhe.
“Poor thing. You’re stuck with him. Bad fucking luck.”
My patience is, once again, wearing thin. But I’m interested in these threads. Could that be the painful pull I’ve felt in my chest since I met Aurora?
If I want answers, I’ll have to remain calm and play Iain’s little games, which mainly involve him insulting me, then bursting into laughter.
“I understand your concerns, Iain, and just like last time, I’m willing to pay whatever price you ask for your masterful work. Hell, I’ll pay double what I paid last time. More than enough to keep your bar stocked for the next hundred years.”
That should ensure the old drunk’s cooperation.
Iain bites his bottom lip and rocks back in his chair, most likely wondering if the danger of reversing a spell on a hellhound is worth the massive amount of money I’ve just offered him.
“I’ll do the spell work. For triple the price. But first you’re gonna do something for me,” he says, turning his uncanny amber eyes back to Aurora.
“You’re gonna tell me exactly what the fuck she is.”
When Aurora flinches, my shadows lash out first, coiling around Iain’s wrists and creeping up his arms.
My hand finds his throat a second later, guided by an instinct older than this broken world. Then I squeeze, lifting him off the ground, his toes scraping helplessly across the filthy linoleum.
“Now it’s your turn to listen, wrakh.”
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.
“I’ve tried to be patient. Because you’re powerful. Because you know this shit better than anyone. But there are two things you won’t do today.”
My grip tightens. His pulse thrums against my palm, speaking directly to my darkness.
“You won’t test me.”
Iain’s eyes water and his breath stutters.
“And you sure as fuck won’t disrespect her.”
My shadows hungrily shudder. Just a little more pressure and the wrakh’s windpipe will crack like a brittle bone.
But somewhere through the rage and violence, Aurora’s voice reaches the rational part of my mind.
“Ezra, please put him down. I’m feeling a little sick watching you squeeze his throat like that,” she whispers, with a hand on her neck.
