Page 22

Aidan laughed as Bobby insulted the structure of my face.

“I’ve seen better looking cat sick!” he hissed what he believed to be the final verbal blow.

I showed him my middle finger, having been called worse in my time.

The mage didn’t get the chance to fire anything back at me. Aidan took him by the back of the neck, forcing him to the floor in the middle of the circle.

“This circle is not just for me, Bobby. It is where blood must be spilled, is it not?”

“I—”

Aidan slammed his face into the floor, the mage’s nose breaking with a sickening crack. Blood spilled across the yellow lines as Bobby whimpered.

“You doubted me,” Aidan continued, slamming his face into the floor again. “I sensed your faith waver deep within.” Slam. “True faith does not come with doubt.” Slam. Slam. Slam. “But your blood will save me.”

I eyed the door, the only exit out of here. If this worked, he’d find the source of my curse, break it, kill me, and run riot.

I went to run.

He blasted me with a beam of magic, whispering his intent to pin me against the wall.

My back slammed into the brick, my arms and legs splayed. A crushing force ground itself into me like sideways gravity, my bones protesting from the pressure.

“Stay there,” Aidan warned.

By the end of the slams, Bobby’s face was nothing more than a grim mess of flesh and bone. Blood oozed across the circle, sparks of orange magic fizzing on the crimson surface.

“There,” Aidan said, scooping blood with his finger. “Perfect.” The magic glimmered around his fingernail, turning a murky brown, the shade of dried blood.

The candle flames brightened.

“Your curse is powerful,” he continued. “It requires dirty magic to break it. Or at least to root out its source.” He kicked Bobby’s corpse. “That’s for abusing my gift.”

Hilarious again. And kind of satisfying to hear the cracks of worry in his tone, all because he was leashed to me. I mean, the humiliation of not being able to use your own creation? What a slap to the ego.

“Yes,” he purred, the magic leaping from fingertip to fingertip. “Yes. This is delectable freedom.”

I fought his hold on me, pushing against it, begging my own will to conjure something handy.

Nothing happened other than a racing heart and sweat pouring down my face.

No magical skill here.

Aidan closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. His fingers bent into claws, veins of that same brownish blood color crawling up his neck.

And his hold on me loosened.

Bobby’s blood seeped into the painted yellow lines, changing the color to the same murky brown. The corpse caught alight as the candles flared, a couple of books catching on fire.

Uh-oh.

“Yes,” Aidan hissed. “Bring every single component of this curse to me, as well as the key. Show me. Aid me.” His lips twisted into a snarl. “I want them all dead.” His eyelids fluttered open, his cruel gaze finding me. “Tonight the real beginning transpires.”

A kinetic force surged through the room, slamming into me, colliding with him. He went careening into the television, knocking over candles. The carpet caught fire, and the mage’s body burned, every inch of him consumed by flames.

Smoke began to choke the room, stinging my eyes. But on the flip side, Aidan’s tumble broke his hold on me.

I hit the floor on all fours, drawing in a sharp breath. I choked on smoke, pushing myself to get upright even while hacking my lungs up.