“Please, stop! It wasn’t that! I don’t do that!” He began to cry, and Titus finally managed to cut the power, keeping it coiled tightly inside. “Please, no, something else. Ask me something else. It’s to do with an… object.”
“Object?” Marshall asked. “You had to steal from her?”
Gerald squeaked. “Yes!” His eyes dipped to Ti’s throat.
“To steal her necklace?”
“Yes! Fucking hell, yes!” Gerald’s cries turned to sobs, breathing frantic as he sucked in large gulps of air. “He… the neckl –!” Gerald spasmed violently, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
Marsh released his grip, and Gerald tipped forward, silent. “I think he’s done, unless you want to go again?”
“No.” Titus dragged a hand over his face, stomach churning with nausea. “Keep him alive for now, only Rae’s allowed to kill him.”
“Understood.”
Titus left Marshall to deal with it, queasiness growing until bile bubbled up his throat. Using the bathroom by the cage, he reached the toilet just in time, crashing to his knees as the effluence erupted from his body.
“Fuck the Fates,” he said, spitting into the bowl. Moving to the sinks, he washed the blood from his knuckles before splashing water across his face.
Three assassins were after her, all for a necklace that held very little power.
Frustration made him grip the edge of this sink, the porcelain cracking. “Fuck.” Forcing his fingers to release, he stood back, averting his eyes from the mirror. Ignoring the time, he dialled. Xander answered after the third ring.
“You better be dying,”he growled down the line.“It’s three in the fucking morning, Ti.”
“I need to speak to Kyra.”
“Did you not just hear me? It’s fucking –”Rustling, angered whispers before Kyra’s familiar voice came on the line.
“Titus, are you okay? What’s wrong?”He could hear her concern through the phone.
“Have you heard of a spell that could stop someone from talking about certain subjects?” Kyra was one of the two witches he trusted.
“Like a binding spell? Yeah I’ve heard of them, but I haven’t done one.”A pause.“I think it would require a pretty big sacrifice, you’d probably get more info from Lucifer than me.”
Titus gritted his teeth. “Is there any way to break it?”
“It’s not that simple. It depends on the original spell.”
Titus eyed the bright pink bandage on his thigh, his back pressed against the cool tile. “If I was able to bring you to the person, would you be able to figure it out?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something I specialise in, and I don’t think Alice does either.”
His skin was hot, his stomach rolling. Lurching forward he dry heaved, bringing nothing up but spit.
“Ti, are you okay?”
Titus pushed himself to his feet, wiping a hand across his mouth. “Fine. Just, can you speak to Lucy about the spell and get back to me?”
“I’m worried about you. Dark magic’s difficult to regulate without an anchor, and you haven’t been training –”
“Thanks Kyra,” he interrupted. “I appreciate it.” He hung up before she could continue, not needing to be reminded that he wasn’t strong enough to handle the magic. He’d attended the training, did everything that was asked of him and more. He’d proven himself stable enough to go back on rotation, even if it was with babysitters. He didn’t need to be constantly monitored, everyone waiting with bated breath for him to explode.
He’d survived the ritual.
He’d survived the Rite.
He would survive the power imbalance.
