I swallow hard as I consider it. Do I trust him? He’s refused to tell me things about himself, but as far as I can tell, he hasn’t lied. He hasn’t hurt me, or Oscar. He’s kinder than he lets on, and I think maybe…
“I trust you,” I whisper.
Inky black magic with strings of gold encircles our arms. As it wraps down to our joined hands, bright orange light begins to thread between the gaps of black. It looks like Halloween, but with way more sparkles, and so much more wonder.
The joined magics hover against the wood frame, as if waiting for instruction.
“Now speak with me.Domum nostram protege.”
“Domum nostram protege,” I repeat, feeling the strings of something powerful pulling in my chest.
“Malum increpa. Bonum sustine,” he finishes, and I mimic him. “Good. Now together.”
We repeat the incantation slowly, our words twisting together like our magic. When the final word is spoken, our joined colors surge into the frame of the doorway, lighting it up. Ripples of black, gold, and orange cascade through the hallway behind us.
“We’ll need to perform this incantation at every doorway to create the boundaries of the spell,” he says, his hands lingering on mine.
“What about Oscar’s fur?” I ask.
He hums, turning his left palm to show me a tuft of Oscar’s whitish under-fur sitting in the middle of it. “It was sticking out of his side, so I plucked it.”
I giggle. “Yeah, he’s still shedding his winter coat.”
“Do you need to rest or can you continue?” he asks.
I take a deep breath and try to look into my self, sensing the place where my magic hides. I feel full, and excited. I’m not sure if that’s just my mood, or my magic, but I guess we’ll find out.
I smile up at him. “I’m ready.”
twenty-three
Things are Ramping Up
After three hours of protection spells, I finish my soup and immediately pass out. What feels like five minutes later, my phone blares Renee’s ringtone “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” I hit the speakerphone button and try to adjust my eyes to the light.
“Hm’ello,” I mumble.
“Hey sleepyhead, you’ve got wood!” Renee says in an overly chipper tone.
I chuckle, then gasp in a panic. “Are you outside?”
“Yep.”
Fuckfuckfuck.
I roll out of the air hammock and groan as I hit the floor. “I’m so sorry. I’m getting dressed!”
“No rush, girlie. It’s a beautiful day.”
I blink blearily at my phone. It’s 10:30 a.m. Jesus. I slept through my alarm and Oscar didn’t even bother me for breakfast!
“Be down in five, bye,” I say as I hang up and scramble toward Oscar’s bowl.
I grab a scoop with hurried apologies but stop when I see there’s already fresh food in the bowl with a little divot where he ate from.
“He wouldn’t stop yelling at me, so I put the pellets in the bowl,” Bastian says from his sanctum.
He fed Oscar for me.
