“As the curse progresses, it will steal her magic and her essence of life with it,” Darren added. He grimaced each time his tongue ran over his lips, as if he could taste the putrid nature of the curse.
Layla edged closer, took in the ring on Amelia’s finger, then leveled a quiet, displeased look at William.
“It took years and a great cost of magic to make this ring,” she said. “Heartsoil charms aren’t given freely, William. And I gave it toyouto save your life if ever needed.”
He lowered his head. “I know,” he said on an exhale. “You know how appreciative I am for the gift and that the situation had to be dire for me to lend it to someone else.”
“It wasn’t lent. It was given. A Heartsoil charm can only be used once. Now you are unprotected.” As if guilt hadn’t whaled on me enough. I got the impression William wasn’t likely to get another ring soon.
Layla’s eyes flicked from Amelia to me with a viperous strike. Cool and interrogating. “You care enough about this one’s life?—”
“Kara,” I interjected. Still feeling the slight of her rejection, I just couldn’t deal with being a “this one” even though it didn’t seem malicious.
“Kara.” My name rolled from her lips with an appreciation that made me regret the bite in my tone. “I’ve known William for a long time. I hope you grasp the magnitude of what he’s given to your friend.”
“I do, and you all as well. Is there anything else that can be done for her?”
Her gaze traveled from the sigils on Amelia’s skin to Darren, who stood against the wall with forced nonchalance. His cool disposition didn’t fit his beleaguered eyes. I caught every sidelong glance he threw my way, each one sharp with suspicion.
“The Heartsoil charm will slow it down. That is its purpose. To slow the process of death. The charm was made in the event William was staked and unable to feed. It would preserve his life until he could find a food source.” Layla spoke to me but kept her eyes on William, not letting up on her dissatisfaction. She may have understood the gravity of the situation, but it was obvious she didn’t condone the charm being used for anyone other than William.
“How long will it keep death at bay?”
“Forty-eight hours, give or take a few.”
“I only havetwo daysto find the person who did this? Is there some way to do a locating spell to find the caster?”
“That is what Darren was attempting to do,” Jamilah said. “Perhaps your friend’s coven will be successful. She appears to have strong magic herself. This curse has attached itself to her magic. Her coven shares a common connection and should be able to find the curser through the connection.”
“Forty-eight hours isn’t enough time.” It wasn’t even a definitive forty-eight hours.
“It’s taking her magic in a very inefficient way,” Jamillah concluded with a frown. “She’ll slip intointer. Neither dead nor alive, and she’ll remain in that state until the magic has been completely siphoned from her. Then she’ll die. If the curse is lifted even in that state…she should fully recover.” Jamillah’s voice didn’t hold the same confidence in the latter information. “Interis considered a magic death.”
“Which will trigger a visit from the shadow gods, who’ll collect whatever magic is left,” Darren provided, his tone somber and seemingly sharing my disdain for the dumb-ass technicality. There was hope. She wasn’t dead and hadn’t slipped intointer. Darren’s confidence seemed to come from experience. People spoke of the shadow gods like they were the boogeyman, slipping in and out without notice, but they weren’t. There were claims that people had seen their faces, dealt with them, even yelled at them. They were the final step of death for those with magic. Collecting our soul and magic, in a glimpse.
“Shadow gods,” I whispered, adding them to the equation. “The person who did this to her will have her magic,” I added.
“Most of her magic. Once she slips intointer, the shadow gods will collect her and remove her magic and leave her as she was.” Jamillah sighed into her frown of disappointment.
“Why would they take her away?” I asked.
“Because you all?—”
Layla cleared her throat in warning. Jamillah worked hard at not completing the eye roll of annoyance.
“We…”
Nah, girl, no one believes that.
“…are taken away when our life is collected. Most people don’t realize the person is gone because they are left unaware.”
“They take away the memory?” I directed my question to the young woman who possessed knowledge beyond her years and a willingness to share. Something her partners seemed reluctant to do. Layla’s lips had pursed into a tight line. She appeared ready to leave me to handle the situation alone.
“Left unaware. I believe their magic stops time to allow them to take the body,” Jamillah said. Again, it lacked some conviction. It could be an erasure of memory for all I knew. Neither situation was optimal.
“It typically doesn’t happen that way. You die and they come to collect. This time, her magic being taken will trigger her death. Once ininter, she’s considered dead. And she’ll be taken. I’m sorry.”
“She’ll die and the person responsible will get away with it.” I sighed with defeat.
