Magic Shifts
Page 133I knelt on one knee. He leaned in as close as the boundary of the circle would allow. A mere three inches separated us.
“I can make you whole,” I whispered. “But there is a price.”
“I’ll pay.”
“Stop,” Nick said. “She’ll promise you the world and then she will make you her slave. She can’t help it. It’s in her blood.”
“Wait, what is this talk of whole-making?” Luther waved his arms. “What’s going on?”
Mitchell’s gaze never wavered. “I would rather be a slave than be this.”
“If I make you whole, you must help me fight the ifrit,” I told him. “Can you find him once you are whole?”
“Yes.”
“Once finished, you will make your home here, in Luther’s custody. You will serve the Biohazard Division for five years.” That ought to give them enough time to figure out what to do with him.
“Yes.”
“Swear on the fire that burns in you.”
The ghoul opened his mouth. “I swear.”
I rose, pulled the book out of my backpack, and thrust it at Luther. “I’ll need these supplies.”
“We’re going to evolve Mitchell to his proper state.”
“Oh, okay. Wait, what?”
• • •
THE COALS HAD been lit. I finished drawing the alchemical sign for the ether and was about done with the symbols. Mitchell sat within the two triangles. Just outside the two triangles, a half-gallon beaker of clear liquid, trimethyl borate, waited on a table next to matches and a small vial of my blood. I had drawn it before we left the house.
A gaggle of Luther’s colleagues gathered in the room. I had walked him through the djinn ground-state theory and he had explained it to them. The reactions were mixed to say the least. Voices floated to me.
“You do realize that if this works, we’ve found a cure for ghoulism.”
“Yes, but the cure is worse than the disease. We can’t run around the countryside turning ghouls into djinn.”
“Technically they are already djinn.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“We have no idea what they are capable of.”
“What’s in the vial?”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t do it?” Luther asked.
“Yes, what Margo said.”
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“Just as an experiment.”
Mages.
“How do you feel about her doing this?” That had to be Mahon. That low-pitched growl could only come from him.
“We let each other be who we are,” Curran said. “I don’t have to like all of the things she has to do. I love her.”
I love you, too. Just keep this in mind after you see what I am going to do.
I drew the final circle around the glyphs. Wards came in all varieties and this one wasn’t a containment; rather it functioned like a mirror, focusing any magic entering the ward on the creature within it.
Mitchell looked up at me. “Hurry.”
I picked up the beaker of the trimethyl borate and poured it over him, saturating the triangle on the floor.
“She does know it’s flammable, right?” someone asked.
I picked up the vial of my blood and pulled out the cork.
He stretched his clawed hands to me.
“There is still time to step back,” I told him.
Mitchell took the vial with his claws.
I struck a match. “Now.”
He gulped the blood. I let the match fall into the ward. Emerald-green flames surged up. Mitchell spun around thrashing, his skin blistering, screaming. I focused my magic on him and felt the magic amplify it. My blood burned through him, sliding down his throat, deep into the pit of his stomach, and awakened a weak spark of fire. I reached for it, as it bathed in my blood, and whispered a power word.
“Amehe.” Obey.
The shock of it tore at my mind. Agony ripped through me. The world turned hazy. I fought it, trying to keep hold on the flame inside Mitchell’s body. If I let my grip slip, it would be all over.
Behind me Curran snarled. Yes, I used a power word. Sue me.
The haze melted. I staggered, but Doolittle’s repairs to my brain must’ve held, because I was still me.