It was a transparent pink color with the consistency of petroleum jelly. She rubbed it over her injured palms, releasing an even stronger scent of poppies and comfrey. The warmth spread through her skin with a curious tingling sensation. Theo watched in amazement as the skin sealed itself back together, leaving no more than raised red marks.
“Incredible,” Theo breathed out.
Scooping up a little more, she turned toward him. He was still bare-chested, as his T-shirt was on the floor in the bathroom. She gently spread the mixture across the deep claw marks on his side. He hissed as her fingers grazed the wounds, but soon the burning was replaced by a pleasant warmth, and he could almost feel the layers of flesh knitting themselves back together.
He stared down at his now unmarked torso, his expression unreadable.
“Magic can be used for so much good,” Olivia whispered. “It’s the natural state for people to fear what they don’t understand, but what they don’t realize is that our most scared covenant, the oath will all swear to, is do no harm.”
His gaze held hers for several long seconds until, unable to help herself, she yawned.
“You need some sleep,” he rumbled in that deep soothing voice of his. Helping her shift on the bed he drew the covers back for her to slide in.
Her eyelids grew heavy and fluttered closed as she relaxed into the soft mattress. Theo covered his hands with the salve and gently massaged it into her wounded feet and her swollen ankle. It felt like she was floating and, lost in the heavy scent of the flowers, she succumbed to her exhaustion. Theo pulled the quilt over her but as he turned to leave, her hand reached out and grasped his wrist.
“I wish you would stay,” she said sleepily.
He hesitated for a moment, his desire to lie close to her and guard her sleep warring with his strict upbringing. Finally, his selfish desire to be close to her, coupled with his own exhaustion, won. He turned off the lamp and climbed onto the bed next to her. Pulling her back into his chest, his arm curved around her sweetly. How could this be a sin? Not when having her curled into his arms felt so right.
“Stay with me,” she murmured, her voice heavily laced with sleep.
“Always,” he whispered.
But she never heard his reply; she had already slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber.
16
Dawn was breaking over the clearing, casting a pale gray light. The dark-robed figure walked slowly toward the hollowed-out tree, a large canning jar in its hands. Light filtered through the glass, highlighting its grisly contents—folds of human flesh looped in a pile and floating in a pool of fluid.
Thin tendrils of mist rippled across the floor of the clearing. The figure moved purposefully, circling the tree, and a faint, sooty orange glow appeared through the fog. The light began to grow brighter, pulsing as it coalesced into the shape of a circular seal. Within its circumference were two interlocking serpents.
The dark figure ignored it and then continued past a second seal burning upon the frozen ground a few steps from the first. It finally stopped a couple of paces on from the second one and dropped to its knees on the hard, packed dirt.
The dirt rumbled and began to churn. Soil coiled upward, spilling over itself until it revealed a deep hole. The figure placed the jar into the hole and watched as it sank into the ground. The dark earth began to fold inwards, following the path of the jar until the ground was flat once again. No sign remained that it had ever been disturbed except for a bright orange symbol that now burned alongside its two counterparts.
The figure watched as the three symbols pulsed and then began to dim. The figure turned as its hand was suddenly nudged by a ball of matted fur. The dead-looking creature peered up through red eyes. Mangy fur hung from its skull in clumps, its ears were ragged, although upright and pointed, giving a vague Egyptian feel to the creature. It sat on its skeletal haunches and looked up at its master. The creature whined, a disturbing sound of pain and anger and loss.
“You will avenge your mate when the time is right.” The voice was an unearthly hiss upon the air. “Until then, protect the circle.”
The creature growled and stood; its mangy form undulated and began to fade, disappearing from view. Although it could no longer be seen by the naked eye, the ground sank as if pressed down by huge paws.
Seemingly satisfied, the figure turned and disappeared into the woods.
Olivia turned the crackling page carefully as she lay back against the sofa, her ankle propped on a pile of cushions. Although the swelling had gone down over the past few days, it still ached. Thanks to her Aunt Evie’s salve, the cuts and scrapes on her hands and feet had all but disappeared. There remained only faint silvery lines that could barely be seen.
Theo wandered into the room, slowly sipping his coffee. He watched Olivia’s brow furrow as she pored over an ancient-looking leather-bound volume. Several other similar books were stacked on the floor next to the couch, some closed and some open at random pages.
He dropped down on the floor next to her, his gaze snagging on her sparkly pink-colored toenails in fascination.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
“A book on folklore,” she murmured.
He leaned over the page and frowned when he didn’t recognize any of the words. “What language is that?”
“Scandinavian,” she replied absentmindedly.
“You can read Scandinavian?” he asked.
