Grave Witch

Good. The glyph from Helena’s body that I’d drawn to show Falin was in my purse. I’d also sketched out what I could remember of a few others. I dug them out and tried to smooth the paper before passing it across the table. If Ashen knew something about the glyphs, I might be able to piece together more about the spells Coleman was using and what he was planning.

I chewed at my bottom lip as Ashen picked up the paper.

His eyes widened. “Miss Craft, this is quite the diverse collection.You were able to See all of these on the late governor’s body?”

“Uh, no. Not all of them.” Or really, any of them.“Do you recognize any of the glyphs?”

Ashen flattened the paper between us and pointed at one of the glyphs. “This one is typically used for shielding spells, and this one is for a cage or trap of some sort. This indicates a link or a path. And this one …” He pointed to the glyph that had appeared most often on Helena’s body. Then he frowned. He turned the paper.

“That is the soul,” a harsh female voice said, but her accent made it sound like “dhe zoul.”

I looked up at the woman in the crimson dress. She pulled back the chair beside Ashen and plopped into it.

Setting her glass on the table, she plucked the page of glyphs out of his hand. He frowned, but he didn’t say anything.

“I have not seen this glyph in a long time,” she said.

“This combination—I know this spell.” She passed the paper back to me.“I hope that the body you found these glyphs on did not belong to a friend of yours.”

I went still as ice landed in the pit of my stomach.

“How did you know it was on a body?”

“This spell—you don’t survive it.”

“Then you know what it does?”

“Ya, I know. I know there will be seven victims.And I don’t like seeing it this close to the Blood Moon.”

The Blood Moon again. And seven victims, just as in the verse “and seven times she’ll know what it is he took.”The Shadow Girl’s warning had to be about Coleman and the spell he was preparing.

I glanced at Ashen. He appeared to be hanging off the woman’s every accented word. I chewed my bottom lip.

The woman, while not overtly fae, had an otherworldly essence about her. She’d asked me no questions, while I’d asked two, plus she’d bought us drinks. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up indebted.

I smoothed the paper in front of me, buying time to consider my phrasing. No questions. Just statements. “I’ve been told the spell has a very specific target. I thought the targets might be wyrd witches, but it appears that isn’t the connection.”

The woman smiled, and it was the kind of smile a cat gives a mouse after the mouse has been cornered and the cat is content to play.“Wyrd witches? No, this spell’s target is much more … genetic than that.”

Genetic? She must have meant generic. English obviously wasn’t her first language.

She was still grinning at me. Even when cats play with mice, the mouse still gets eaten in the end. It was time to go. I glanced over at Ashen. He watched her as if entranced, and I wondered what he saw with his gravesight.

I reached across the table and touched his arm. His eyes snapped to me, clear and still glowing with power.

Okay, he doesn’t look like he’s under a spell. I don’t feel bad leaving him here.

“I really should be heading out,” I said, pushing my chair back.

“Going so soon?” he asked. “You haven’t even touched your drink” I glanced down at the thick liquid. No way was I drinking that.

“You can have it if you like. I have to run.” I started to stand, but my legs didn’t respond. What the—? I looked down, wiggled my toes, and crossed and uncrossed my legs—everything worked, except when I tried to stand. I seemed to be glued to my chair.

“What’s happening?”

“No one leaves until all drinks on the table are finished,” the woman said, her smile practically cracking her face. “House rule. That is now three questions I’ve answered. What will you do for me, little witch?”

“I don’t trade in retrospect.”

She shook her head, but the jack-o’-lantern smile didn’t dim. “That is a shame.” She held out her hand, palm up as though she was offering something or panhandling.

I frowned. A shiver of magic brushed the air around me. “What are you doing?”

The magic crept closer, and a warm tingle slithered over my neck. I couldn’t stand, couldn’t back away from the table. I glanced at the glass of gold liquid. If I drank it, I could get up. Run out of the bar. But maybe that’s all the magic is for, to scare me into drinking.

I didn’t grab the glass.

The slithering magic tightened, bit into my neck like a too-tight necklace.

“Obey me,” the woman said.

My eyes bulged as the compulsion to do just that flitted through my brain. I pressed the urge down and ripped at my throat. Nothing. Nothing’s there. My heart beat against my lungs, knocking the air out of me as I fought the spell.

“She’s too strong. Drain her,” the woman said.

Ashen reached out, but he didn’t touch me, not physically. Power crashed over me. Not a spell, just pure, raw energy. The rush of cold, of the grave, hit me hard enough to snap my head back. My shields shook, and I tapped the power in my ring. Then I remembered I had no extra external shields to reinforce. It was just me against the onslaught. Oh crap. Ashen thrust raw power at me. Not just magic; he wielded grave essence honed into a weapon.

My mental shield shook again.

“Obey me,” the woman commanded.

“Go screw yourself.”

Brave words, but I wasn’t going to hold up much longer.

If Ashen broke my mental shield, I’d be hurting and defenseless. I did the only thing I could: I opened my shields myself. He attacked me with grave essence. My talent reared up, drew on the chill he threw. There was no time for centering or guiding the energy. I just drank down the cold, the touch of the grave.Wind whipped my hair from my face. My own heat burned inside me, seeking a way out of my body.

Ashen grabbed that heat. I felt his power—even as I was making it mine—reach out and draw hard. He pulled the heat out of my body and then kept pulling, his power trying to drag me out of the land of the living, into the land of the dead.

Grave-sight filled my vision, revealing the corpse sitting across from me. The glow of a present soul lit his edges, but nothing living was so decayed. As I registered the body as a corpse, more heat leapt from me and seeped into him. The decayed skin of Ashen’s face firmed, his rotted eyes rehydrating. Leathered lips cracked into a smile, and he breathed in deeply. Heat I didn’t even realize was still in me seeped away, rushing across the space to him. He took that, too, and color lifted to his skin.

I trembled, the icy wind slicing into me. I had never been this cold when still filled with the grave. Never. I felt as though I’d never be warm again. The ice in my limbs weighed me down. Made me slow. Tired.

The woman snapped her teeth like a shark catching prey and commanded, “Obey me.”

Chapter 21

The words roared in my head.A force.A compulsion.

I wanted to obey her. I needed to.

No!

I fought the urge, shoved it aside, away. She gritted perfect teeth at me. Unlike Ashen, her features barely changed in my grave-sight. If anything, she became more lovely, more enchanting. Court fae.

In her palm she held a coiled length of silver thread.

She curled her fist around the string and jerked. My chest heaved in response to her tug, and in my gravesight I could see the glittering silver thread stretching between us. I reached for it, but though I could see it, I couldn’t touch it.

“Obey me.”

I looked at her, the struggle fading from my limbs, and she smiled. She was beautiful and powerful. My mistress.

I liked that she smiled. I wanted to please her.

“So strong,” she whispered. “How … valuable.” She pointed at the glass in front of me. “Drink, so we can go.”

I picked up the glass, stared at it. My fingers were trembling, making the golden liquid quiver. Suspended in the liquid, the blue swirls of a spell danced. I frowned at the spell. I didn’t like spells used on me. I set the glass back down.

“Drink it.”

My hand twitched. I didn’t want to disappoint her. I didn’t like spells.

“Alex!”

I looked up. Someone was running toward me, his hair glistening like fresh snow and his skin glowing in the dim bar. I knew him. But I couldn’t think how.

“Drink,” my mistress commanded again.

I picked up the glass. The man reached us, took the glass from my fingers. He set it on the table and wrapped his hand around my biceps.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he said, but when he pulled on my arm, my body remained in the chair.

“Alex?”

My mistress looked the man over. Falin.Yes, that was his name. She smiled at him, so I did as well. The corpse man even smiled.

“House rule,” she said.

Falin looked down at the full glass. He lifted it, swirling the contents. Then he tipped it back and swallowed the spelled liquid in one gulp. “Let’s go,” he said, slamming the empty glass on the wood.

“Alex doesn’t want to go; she wants to stay with me— don’t you, dear?” My mistress reached out and ran a feverishly warm hand down my cheek.

“I—” Saying I wanted to stay with her tasted like a lie on my tongue. I knew she wanted me to say that, and I wanted to please her, but the words didn’t make it out of my mouth.

She frowned, and Falin looked between us.

“You’re a slaver,” he said.

“And I just made my greatest catch.” She stood.

“Come, my pets, we have important buyers to see.”

The corpse man rose to his feet immediately. I moved less quickly.

“Alex,” Falin said. “Alexis, remember who you are.”