Taking a deep breath, I reason with myself while I look around. Now, I’m not so focused on getting out of here.
Doc can always teleport me back to the top, it’s okay.
Everything is fine. I’m fine.
I’m actually surprised that Dimitri hasn’t shown up since, apparently, he can feel my panic, but maybe his magic is tired from showing up and nearly ripping that guy's throat out yesterday, or maybe it doesn’t happen every time I panic? I don’t know, I’ll have to ask him about it at some point.
Focus.
It’s really simple in here, there aren’t any fancy floor coverings or furniture. It is just a cave. There is a huge mural on one wall though that has become faded and cracked with time, but fortunately, it is still clear enough that I can make out a couple standing in front of the altar, with huge smiles on their faces as a bloodstone floats between them.They’re surrounded by symbols, both magical and not, some that I recognize and some that don’t. It really is stunning.
Directly in front of that mural is the altar that’s depicted on the wall. It’s old, dusty, and covered in moss, and it’s clear that it hasn’t been used for an extremely long time. But we know that. Michael said that it had been thousands of years since the last true mate pair was found. At least I’m pretty sure that he said that. I know that he said that it had been a really long time, and he referred to it as the old ways coming back. Considering how long supernaturals live for, I think that it’s safe to assume that it was at least a thousand years ago.
Actually, now that I think about it, I’m surprised that the cave is in as good condition as it is.
“Are you ready?” Griff asks me, and I see a flash of nervousness in his expression.
I smile, trying to ease his nerves and hide my own, “Yep.”
The others all move back, and it doesn’t escape my notice that they’re guarding the cave entrance.
I’m nervous, not because of the ritual but because I don’t know what to expect, and I hate not knowing what to expect.
Michael was really vague about this whole thing, and he didn’t say exactly what would happen. He may not know of course, and that knowledge could have been lost over the years, which would be understandable, but knowing that does nothing whatsoever for my nerves.
I call on Asael, one, because we need something to draw blood, and I do not trust anything else to draw my blood apart from him, but also because I need the comfort that Asael brings me.
I’m clearly a nervous wreck right now.
“Good thinking,” Griff says as we move over the altar.
Griff starts to clear off the moss and debris from the top of it, and I take the opportunity to ask Asael if it's possible to turn himself into a dagger because trying to cut myself with the great big sword is not going to go very well at all, I’ll most likely stab myself, and then I’ll probably accidentally stab Griff. Then it will be just be a whole thing, and everyone will somehow end up bleeding, and who knows what sort of effect that would have on the ritual and the binding and the whole true mate thing.
“Neith?” Griff asks, looking at me questioningly. I’m guessing that it’s not the first time that he’s tried to get my attention.
“Yes, sorry. My brain did its thing,” I explain, and he simply smiles.
I love that I don’t have to explain it any further, and that he just gets what I’m talking about.
“I figured that was probably the case,” he replies. “Do you remember what is going to happen?”
“Would you go over it again just so that I know for certain?” I ask.
“Yeah, of course. Okay, so we’re each going to prick our fingers with Asael. We need enough blood for a good-sized droplet, but we don’t need any more than that.”
“Phew, I was imagining like cups of blood, and I get dizzy when I lose that much, and then I start talking absolute shit that makes no sense whatsoever,” I ramble. “I mean more than usual.”
“Whoa, hold up,” Baz calls out from the viewing gallery. “Exactly how many times has that happened to you?”
“Dude, you probably don’t want to know the answer to that question,” Coen replies, shadows crossing his expression.
He knows more of my past than the others, so he has a rough idea of how many times that it has happened to me.
Baz growls, and my eyes meet his. They aren’t his usual ones, they’ve shifted, becoming completely black with copper lines running through them and meeting where the pupil of a normal eye would be.
I have never seen eyes like his before.
The Voices titter excitedly, just like they always do when Baz shows some of his magic.
