Captivating Magic (The Thorne Witches #14)

Chapter 12

12

L o whisked Ebba home at a mind-boggling speed. When they arrived, she felt out of breath, although she had no physical form for her reaction to be legit. Perhaps it was everything she’d witnessed Laszlo and his family do in the last twenty-four hours, but she never wanted to return to living in the dark about the supernatural.

“I could get used to traveling this way,” she said with a laugh. “No airports or long TSA lines. No delays or lost luggage.”

“No atmospheric disturbances to prevent a flight from taking off,” Liz added with a grin.

“Wait! You can hear me?” With excitement bubbling up, Ebba rushed across the room to join her.

“I can see you, too, but there’s a translucent quality to your skin and a pale yellow aura around you.”

“Do you suppose it’s leftover from the spell you cast in the clearing, Lo?” she asked him.

“Probably.” He shrugged, and a part of him seemed distant as if their time with Isis had hardened his heart and resolve. “We should take advantage of Liz’s ability to see you and have the tough conversations.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, Ebba, I’m not. And neither are you. Neither will Liz be when this is over if we can’t find a way to save you. So how about we do away with all the touchy-feely crap and get to work?”

Recoiling from his building rage, she shared a concerned glance with Liz. Never had Ebba been subjected to his fury in the past, and if asked, she’d have said he was slow to anger.

Liz sprung to her feet and wrapped her arms around his middle the way Ebba had been dying to all her life.

“It’s okay, brother-mine. Nothing is going to happen to her,” Liz assured him.

“It already has,” he snapped, though he embraced her back. “Death showed up looking for her while we were at Clutch’s. We have less than forty-eight hours to resolve this situation, or Ebba takes a one-way trip to purgatory. She’ll be forced to stay there until the Fates decide where her soul is to go.”

“Sounds ominous,” Ebba muttered.

Humor lit his amber eyes. “I thought you were the serious one of us, Sweet. When did you become the wise-ass?”

“Floating around the ether, waiting for people to notice your body is housing someone else, will do that to you.” She gestured to the bedroom with her thumb. “How do we get rid of that… what did you call him? Pig-fucker?”

Liz choked, likely on her spit. When she finally had her coughing under control, she wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Next time, warn a girl when pig-fucker is coming.”

Ebba grinned.

“I want to take a closer look at Clutch’s spell,” Lo said, heading to Ebba’s fridge. After perusing its contents, he withdrew two beers and the makings for a sandwich. He offered one to Liz and then began constructing a hoagie. “He wouldn’t have ripped a page from his grimoire if he didn’t believe it had value. The voodoo doll is generic and hasn’t been used before from what I can tell. There’s no residual energy signature, so I can only assume it was recently created from clay.”

Ebba nodded. “I watched a show once where the main character shrunk a person and turned them into a clay figurine. They fired the doll in a kiln after leaving it to dry out. Maybe we can do that?”

Both of her friends stared at her like she was the Cerberus that Alastair had assured her was real.

“No? Not something witches can do?”

“You’re twisted,” Lo said with wonder.

Her stomach turned to a ball of lead, and she hated he saw her as a mental case. Sure, she might be, but?—

“I fucking love it,” he added with a wide-ass grin. Giving her an approving nod, he looked at Liz. “She’s one of us.”

“One of you?” Ebba ventured.

“A Thorne.” Liz tapped her bottle to her brother’s. “We’ve always thought you were, though. Haven’t we, Lo?”

His eyes glowed with an unnamed emotion. One Ebba desperately wanted to explore at length, but the timing was all wrong. It always had been. The initial age gap, his relationship with Charlotte, Ebba’s death. The world was conspiring against them. Or, at the very least, against her. In her mind, Laszlo Thorne would live a rich, long life with the woman of his dreams. He’d be happy with his 2.5 kids and eighty-pound lab resting at his feet.

Rafe called Liz away, and after she left the room, Lo cornered Ebba.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“I’ve always wanted to be part of your family. All of you, Mack included, have made me feel special when I’m far from it. Far from whatever it is all of you are. But you never made me feel I was lacking.”

“You’re not.”

“I’ve loved you forever, Lo.”

He wasn’t surprised by her confession, and in fact, he appeared downright uncomfortable she’d said anything at all. Yet Ebba needed to be heard this one and only time. She might not have another chance to reveal what was in her heart.

“I don’t expect you to say the same. If you did, I’d know you were lying.” She cast him a wry smile. “But I do love you, and another minute I didn’t tell you was another one wasted.”

“I’m honored.”

Ebba snorted. “Yeah, you look like you mean that.” Rolling her eyes, she wished she could take a long pull of his beer. How the hell was her throat parched without a physical form? “You’re going to hate this next part.”

“Don’t say it,” he warned.

“I have to. You know I do.”

“Ebba—”

“When I move on?—”

“I don’t want to hear this, dammit!”

She touched his arm. “When I move on, I want you to forgive yourself, then forget this entire incident.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

His fury caught Liz’s and Rafe’s notice, but Ebba waved them off.

“No, Lo. I’m accepting of what’s to come. You need to be, too.”

“Well, I’m not, so knock it off with this acceptance bullshit.”

“No. I want you to promise me you’ll do as I requested. You won’t beat yourself up for things out of your control.”

He shook his head like an enraged bear, prepared to argue.

“Laszlo.”

Again, he shook his head.

“Laszlo, look at me. Really look.”

The eyes he turned on her were filled with pure torment. “Tell me, Ebba. What is the point in having my abilities and being able to see spirits if I can’t do a fucking thing to save them? Especially the most important one of all. You . Huh?”

“Maybe you aren’t meant to. Maybe you’re only meant to ease our way or the minds of those left behind.”

“I’m the one you’re leaving behind!”

They stared at each other. Shock sent their jaws plunging toward their chests. Laszlo was the first to recover and tapped her mouth closed. His confession was in order.

“You’re my friend,” he said simply. “But more importantly, you’re someone I’ve come to realize I want to know better. In every sense of the word. How can I do that if you cross over?”

“There will be other women, Lo.” Her look bordered exasperated. “Liz could make you a list of women she knows who are willing to leave their significant others forever just for a single hour in your bed.”

He scoffed.

“Dude. You are so clueless.” She shook her head. “Why do you think Charlotte threw hate rays at every female who had the audacity to glance your way?”

“She was a jealous shrew.”

“With good reason. Have you taken a gander at the mirror recently?”

Heat crept up his neck. “You’re making me uncomfortable, Ebba.”

She had the nerve to laugh, and Lo wanted to kiss away her sass. Goddess, did he! Shooting a glance at his sister and brother-in-law, he shoved away his desire with an internal lecture on the impropriety of lusting after a ghost with others present.

“I don’t care about any of those women,” he said gruffly. “I care about you. About this.”

“The accident wasn’t your fault. Spencer possessing my body wasn’t your fault. Death demanding our runaway souls is not your fault, either.” She hammered home every point in a calm, collected way. Though Lo recognized the wisdom of her words, a part of him would never get over being unable to save her, and he didn’t know how to convey it to her. It wasn’t love, he assured himself. It was guilt for being a useless fucker.

Their silent stare-off ended when his phone rang.

Clutch.

Laszlo rushed to answer. “Hey, man. Were you able to soften her up?”

His friend laughed. “She’s not that easily swayed. Have you attempted the spell yet?”

“No. We paid a visit to Isis in the hopes she’d intervene.”

“Will she?”

Despair settled over him, and Laszlo gave Clutch the unvarnished truth. “No.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“For what it’s worth, Lo, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, man.” A sigh escaped from his tired soul. “Want to join us to capture Pig-fucker Spencer inside your clay doll?”

“I’d love to, man, but Death is beckoning.”

“Not cool.”

“No, but funny.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

But before he could, Clutch said his name. “It doesn’t state it in the spell, but when you tie Ebba’s body to the bed, use black bindings. Silk or satin might burn less when she writhes to get away.”

“Stop it, you’re turning me on.”

“Shut up. You know what this is for. Also, the clay form should be pressed face down into the bare skin of her chest. The point is to leave no room for escape.”

The idea of hurting Ebba in any way made Lo surly. “Got it.”

“Wrap the doll in a black cloth and bind it. The spell will hold until you can hand Spencer off to Death.”

He didn’t want to, but he had to ask. Meeting her solemn chocolate eyes, he swallowed hard. “And how am I to deliver Ebba?”

The question felt more introspective than inquiring. Did he have the strength to let her go?

“I’ve got the feeling Ebba won’t need to be forced to return here again.” The gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on Clutch. “It’ll be easier for you if she comes alone, Lo.”

“I don’t give a shit about easy. We’ll be there unless I can devise another plan in the meantime.”

“Death will find her. You, of all people, know that. Don’t piss her off. Be here either way, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.” Disconnecting, Laszlo tossed the phone on the counter and stalked to the bedroom. Ebba’s physical self was awake and glaring hatred in his direction.

“Time to give up the ghost, Pig-fucker.”