“There’s skill involved, yes, but plenty of luck, too,” she said. “The same kind of quiet power that keeps you alive in the astral realm when it should have killed you months ago. Don’t get me wrong—damage was caused. But not nearly the amount that there should have been.”
My heart was racing now, and I wanted to believe that each pulse carried perfectly ordinary blood. “Sylv would have sensed if I was magic, wouldn’t she?”
“Not something like this—something so faint and nearly dormant. If you had tapped into it with intention, maybe. There’s no way around this. Somewhere distant in your ancestry, there was magic.”
Steadying my breath, I looked down at my azabache bracelet. “My mom practiced some Espiritismo. Could that…”
Delilah’s sharp eyes looked from me to the blood dish. “I’ve known some espiritas. Your mother must have practiced gently. This is…different.”
My dad, then.
I shut that door before I could begin to consider what was behind it. “Wherever it came from,” I said slowly, “that means I should be able to teach myself to properly wield magic, right?”
“Perhaps. But you realize there’s sacrifice involved, don’t you?”
“You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself despite that.”
She smiled wryly. “What you see before you is the result of nearly a century of suffering. Witchcraft isn’t like fairy magic. Don’t be such an idiot to make that mistake. Fairies are born with their affinity. There’s almost an innocence to it. But witches and warlocks seize what suits them most.” She spread her hands, gesturing around her. “You could say I specialize in transformation and protection because it is what I wanted—what Idemanded. A way to escape when needed, and places where I could be safe. But even the most well-meaning magic in human hands is a distortion of nature. Can you stomach that?”
Silence settled between us as I pondered it.
“I’ve had so much taken from me,” I said quietly, my mind still racing with what Delilah had revealed to me. “Maybe, for once, I can do the taking. I never expected to find someone like Sylvia, but I did. And every day, I feel closer to losing her. Every time we make it through, the hope for us becomes harder to shake. But one day it’s going to be too much, and hope isn’t going to be enough. I want to make sure that doesn’t happen. I can’t survive losing her.”
Delilah’s gaze, usually bright and steely as cut ice, softened. I felt a wall coming down between us, and got the sense that it was a rare occurrence on her end.
“I understand,” she said, leaning against the bookshelf. “I’ve lived for almost a century, and most of those decades were filled with wicked, hateful men. I’ve seen empires rise and fall, this relentless cycle over and over. Then one day, this ridiculous con artist with a damn fairy staggered into my life.” She paused, smile widening as she relived the memory. “I feel like I’ve waited oceans of time for Lee, when I thought all good men were a fable. I would do unforgivable things to save his life.”
The sudden darkness in the stare that pinned me, and Iknewthat look because I saw it in the mirror every damn day. Morality became a luxury when your loved one was in danger.
Delilah glanced at the shelf I’d been reaching for and made a derisive noise. “Well, those ones won’t help you unless you’re looking to make charm-infused soaps.”
She strode to a six-tiered shelf across the room and lifted on her tiptoes to gather several from the uppermost shelf.
“You want power, yes?” She pressed two leather-bound tomes into my arms.
I hesitated, cheeks flushing with shame just for speaking it aloud with awitch,of all people. A woman who’d spent a century up to her neck in blood sacrifices. I glanced over my shoulder at the door, ensuring we were alone.
“Something I can control,” I said, each word expelled like a curse. “Defensive only. Something that won’t cause unnecessary collateral.”
“Flexibility,” she purred. “Naturally. But what’s that they say about the best defense?”
She pulled one more book free and set it atop the others. This one was black, with uneven pages and protruding, folded, yellowed notes.
She stepped back, watching my face for any signs of uncertainty. “You know the cost, hunter?”
My stomach twisted as I glanced at the shallow dish that still spewed tiny wisps of smoke. “Blood.”
“Right. That spilled from another will yield far more potent results, but your own can suffice, at least in the beginning.” Delilah hesitated. “As for the damage you’ve experienced in the astral realm…”
I tensed, nodding at the books. “Will these make it worse?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I do know your mind has already weakened immensely,” she said, reaching up to brush hair off my face, cool fingertips gliding against my forehead. “Even if you don’t feel it now, be very careful as you proceed. You might destroy yourself trying to save her.”
I raked her up and down, trying to find something disingenuous about the worry in her silken voice.
“Getting soft on us?” I asked, lifting a brow.
To my relief, she took the bait and backed down. “For you and Cliff? Impossible. And who knows, you’re a big, tough guy. Maybe it will be fine. Stranger things have happened.”
