“Weaver,” I correct.
“I don’t give a fuck. Fulfil your half of the deal.” He’s on edge. His senses must be tingling. I’m trying to hide my building terror, the prickle of unease. “If this is a trap…”
“I’d be an idiot to trap you. You’ll get your grimoire.” My breathing is slow, my magic pooling in my hands. I close my eyes, my senses stretching.Ding, ding. Dinner time.
Dimitar snarls, “You fucking—” but he never finishes the sentence. Something large and black slams into the Amur’s back. Chaos erupts and I move.
Magic pours into my legs and I bolt towards the ghoul holding the iron box. I scream, magic exploding from me, andthe creature screeches in agony. I slice through him in arage, chunks of rotted flesh flying. It happens so fast, the others can’t react. The cost on my magic is high. A burning sensation I’ve never felt before sears my sternum and nearly takes my breath away, my hands shaking and sickness rising. But it’s worth it. The box is mine.
I don’t look behind me and grab the heavy thing. The metal bites my hands horrifically, but I don’t loosen my grip. I drag it to the side, fixated on one thing and one thing only as Lucas and Valen wage war. The spider shrieks and scurries, but I don’t have time for it. I grab the crowbar from the corner of the basement with the other chains and boxes and slam it into the lock, prying and wrenching. My hands burn, sweat slicking my forehead. My chest hurts horrifically and I swear a wisp of smoke curls past my lips. But I can’t think about that now. I throw everything I have at the lock, teeth bared as I work to break it. “Come on!” I wrench and twist until, finally, the lock clicks.
I rip the loop through the handle and toss it to the side. Heart in my throat, I pull open the box. Darkness greets me.
I scream, hands shaking in fear. Was this a decoy and Dimitar has Jinx elsewhere? Or worse, is Jinx no more and this a trap? Bile rises in my throat, my lips trembling. I can’t lose Jinx. I already lost Aunt Vi, the reminder like a sharp, gut-wrenching pain within me. If I lose Jinx too…
Blue glints from within. With a choked gasp, I reach down and touch something soft along the bottom that perfectly blends with the shadows. I grab Jinx’s oddly flattened body and pull the familiar from her prison. She feels like nothing in my arms, like a sash of fur with slowly expanding ribs.
I sob, holding my familiar tight to my chest. “What were you thinking!” Salt pricks my tongue as tears slip in. “If you need to take from me, thentake from me.” I’m trembling too hard and fall on my ass to curl around the small body in my arms. “Don’tever hold back again. Swear to me, Jinx. Never again. I love you too much and I can’t—I can’t?—”
A small paw presses against my heart and it nearly breaks me. “Fuck, Jinx. I thought—” I gasp and sniffle loudly, wiping my face. “Never mind. We need to focus.” My gaze hardens. “We’re not done.”
Jinx blinks and I slide to my feet.
The spider took out a ghoul and is trying its damnedest to pick off one of the six remaining men. Lucas battles Dimitar, his rings glowing pure gold, his flat cap long gone. Valen balances keeping Ivan and the spider at bay while also smacking the final ghoul down when it tries to get close to me. It’s damn impressive, but I tear my gaze away.
I surge forward, still clutching Jinx. My muscles burn, torn from the last surge, but I grit my teeth and bear it. The ghoul rises to meet me. I dive under its swiping claws, rolling and jumping to my feet. My magic crackles, and I bolt by Ivan, the magician, who turns in confusion. It’s a mistake that costs him. His arm encases in ice, his roar rattling my teeth.
And then Ivan’s right bracer lights with dark green power of Transformation. His body cracks and bulges, his hands crashing to the ground. A bear roars to life, metal cuffs glowing green with magic.
Terrified awareness ripples over my back. I grab the Amulet of Acerabus and throw it. “VALEN!”
He catches it, but I don’t stop running. I grab my vault door, the seals whispering in recognition. A roar shakes the foundation and thudding paws near. I wrench open the door and dive inside. I grab it and heave one-handed with all my strength, the other holding Jinx tightly to my heart.
The bear’s paw wraps around the door. I falter and gasp, my footing giving out when the door wrenches. And then there’s a flash of black and disgusting long legs. A yelping whimperechoes and the paw’s hold weakens. I throw my body into it and the vault slams shut. Magic flares and seals me within it.
My breath rasps from my chest, a cold sweat chilling me. Slowly, I peel my fingers from the handle.
Whispers of dark magic hum to me and I turn to the bookshelf. There, its spine so thin it’s barely noticeable among the thicker, deadlier tomes, is my grimoire.
CHAPTER 28
Ringing silence presses in on me. The magic and iron are too thick around my haven to permit a whisper of sound to slip through. The flame that always burns in the enchanted fireplace warms my sweat-chilled body. If I close my eyes, I can pretend that it’s a normal day and I came down here to work on a particularly dangerous translation with a glass of wine.
My fingers tighten around the small lump in my arms. I let out a long, shivering exhale. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.”
Jinx blinks back slowly.
The armchairs screech as I drag them farther back. I gingerly lay Jinx out on the cushion and stroke a slow hand through the matted fur. Bony ribs expand and contract with a wheezing, purring cough. I plant a kiss on her fluffy head and step back.
I strip off my clothes hastily and toss them haphazardly in the corner. My curse scar is still pink and puckered and I trace the way it loops under my left breast before dropping my hand.
Crossing the space, I yank open my desk drawer and swallow back the welling emotions at the sight of Valen’s engagement ring hidden in a blue velvet box. With a clammy hand, I move it to the side. The silver blade I keep in my desk drawer glintsin the firelight. I take it and a shard of pure limestone in hand and slam the drawer shut. The vault is deep, perfect for circle drawing. My feet are whisper-silent on the polished slate floor.
Placing the blade in the center of the room as a marker, I turn to my bookshelf. I approach it with grim determination and slide out my precious grimoire. The extension of my own magic threads that I used for the binding reaches for me. I hold the book tightly between both palms and breathe its dry scent deep into my lungs. The burned raw ache in my chest pangs, the fissure in my soul solidifying. My lips graze the leather, eyes fluttering.
But then I feel it. The corruption. The weight of the curse. It indeed took advantage of my time away and saturated my Entropy Thread until the overly sweet flavor of dark magic sticks to the back of my throat. The thread writhes, like a parasite within my heart. Fear nearly robs me of logic, the book trembling in my hands. My teeth click, eyes snapping open. I don’t have much time.
The leather creaks when I open it. The pages flutter until the inked Alasdair glares at me like he knows what I’m about to do. A shiver ripples up my spine, the hair on my arms standing on end.
