My eyes slide open to peer at the ceiling of my vault. I smile. My chest is full of a warm heat that thaws the previous chill. Jinx looks down at me, healthy and alive in her cat form. Then she morphs. No pain accompanies it this time. Just a gentle shift of energy. A magnificent beast smiles at me, similar but grander than the form I witnessed leaping over me to slap the spider book back into the vault.
Massive, Jinx fills the vault with her large shoulders, slightly shorter hind legs curled in a sit, a large plume of tail circling around to brush my cheek affectionately. Her blue eyes are different. They’re flecked with gold and black with veins of shimmering opalescence, the sight bringing a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. Jinx’s fangs hang below her jaw and her mystical voice rings with power. “Who knew you’d have a genuine self-sacrifice in you?”
I laugh. “Right? Who knew?”
Jinx steps back and offers a large paw. I grab it and Jinx hauls me up. My familiar circles me. “I’ve never seen something like this. A second Heir to a dead Archweaver. The implications are limitless. I’m sure your father is going to start a riot when you’re discovered.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” I twist my hands, studying the flicker of black and gold beneath my skin. “I have no idea how or why this has happened.”
Jinx sniffs me from toes to the tip of my head. She exhales harshly, my hair blowing forward with it. “Maybe Antonia was waiting for you to be properly humbled.”
I glare.
Jinx shrugs a muscular shoulder. “Maybe it was to see if you could see past your own selfish desires.”
“Gross, I hate those theories. Maybe it was because I’d been sucked into that space with the curse and I was able to be reached from the Tapestry.” I smirk. “Yes, that sounds way better.”
Jinx rolls her eyes and I nod towards the door. “Shall we make Dimitar piss himself?”
Jinx laughs and the sound fills me with such joy. I throw my arms around her and the familiar encloses me in fluffy warmth. She shifts into a massive all-black tiger with silvery stripes glittering in the firelight. Tendrils of smoke stream from her eyes and ears.
My eyes widen. “Is that what the Amur looks like?”
Jinx chuckles and her tail swishes with the same trailing smoke. “Open the door. It’s time for that fucker to realize who he’s messing with.”
Flames crackle around me, gold and black. My hair shortens until it’s back to my preferred length, and I throw my vault door open. Naked, on fire, and covered in blood from barely clotted wounds, I step out into the basement.
The final ghoul is dead and there’s a smashed spider-themed book in the center of the room, one leg at an odd angle. Satisfaction curls my lips. I was right.The Arachnomiconrequired physical magic to be defeated, and the most powerful version of that is a transformed weaver or magician. Ivan and Dimitar did the work of subduing the book for us. A bite mark mars the binding that I might fix later. But probably not. It’s going straight into an iron box after this.
Ivan is not far from it. He’s half-shifted and breathing heavy, one eye missing, and a weeping spider bite in the arm. Dimitar ishovering over him, staring at me, slack-jawed. His suit is ruined, jacket and shirt torn half off.
It’s the first time I’ve seen his magician’s token. The emerald in the center glints with an unholy light, the kind that turns my stomach. Metal claws from around the stone sink deep into the magician’s flesh, burn scarring bubbling along the edges in long rivulets throughout his chest. It’s a nasty token fusion that screams of violence and pain. The Transformation Thread within forces my gaze to drop. Disgust. Vile. Abomination. Anything else is lost to me and my brain throbs in my skull.
The Amulet of Acerabus is embedded right above it, keeping him from shifting into his other form. I was right in giving it to Valen. He used it perfectly to keep the Amur from overwhelming them. The blue stone glows brightly and an eerie high-pitched ring emanates from it. Blood drips from the gold fangs and trails of red slide down Dimitar’s skin to stain his once-immaculate starched shirt. And yet, his token is perfectly clean in a way that hurts my head to comprehend.
Valen and Lucas are side by side, ready to attack. Valen is bleeding from a slash down his face, one eye closed. Lucas is only a little better, if not horribly bruised, with his rings spluttering.
I hold up the useless grimoire with a grin. My Soul Threads that were binding it are gone, pulled free when I ascended to Heir. “I have your book.”
Dimitar snarls, but rears back when Jinx slinks out from the vault. My familiar is larger than me and wraps her massive tiger body around my back. A growl that shivers over me has Dimitar swallowing, his skin sallow. I toss my useless grimoire at him. “I highly suggest you take it and honor our deal while Ivan is still breathing.” I smile. “I have a book with an antidote if you’d like to purchase it. But I won’t be crafting it for you.”
Dimitar scowls, his voice low with menace. “I won’t forget this.”
I roll my shoulders back with a snort. “You’re in no place to make threats. Let’s be smart about this and call it even. You hurt my familiar. I hurt you. You made a stupid deal. I honored it. Done.”
But Dimitar is not done. It shines in his eyes. I humiliated him. Defeated him. And worse, Lucas is still free. He is the loose thread that gives the others hope of freedom. My business just got a whole lot more complicated.
To kill him would be so easy, but the mess would be disastrous. The Guild could try to seek revenge. Someone worse could rise to power. The fallout of Guild infighting would tear the city apart. The weaver civil war is already going to be disastrous. Order and Guild crumbling? Havenport would be in ashes by the end. And I like this city.
Jinx’s lips curl to bare her fangs, tail flicking. I stroke her fluffy cheek. “Run along back to your Guild, Dimitar, before I change my mind.”
Dimitar snatches up the grimoire and hauls Ivan over his shoulder. Jinx and I track his ascent up the stairs. Something collides with me, dousing my flame, and I stumble back into Jinx’s side.
Lucas’ shuddering breath shifts my hair. “You’re a crazy bitch with the luck of a goddess.”
“Glad you recognize me for what I am,” I giggle and grip him back with equal fervor.
He scoffs, but it ends with a huffed laugh. My fingers twist with his shirt, breathing in his scent. That clean masculine sweat mixes with blood and singed magic of a good fight. I press my nose into his neck where the tip of his tattoo curls up, my eyes fluttering shut with his heartbeat.
