Rebirth (Lost Souls #1)

Chapter 12

H e’s already in the library when I return. Nerves flutter around in my stomach while I approach him. My shoulders are tight and I’m biting on my lower lip, only getting myself to stop it when the coppery taste of my own blood coats my tongue.

He sits at the desk that I’ve been using, shamelessly reading through my notes. It’s something that I was ready to gut Isra over, but with him I know that he’ll be the one gutting me if I even dare.

Despite my extremely conflicted feelings toward him, I stand there fumbling with the sleeve of my dress. Against better judgment, a small part of me hopes for his approval. To know that I’m doing at least something right.

He waves a few pages at me without looking up. “Going by these, and the notes that I saw earlier”—meaning the ones he stole and destroyed—“you’re smarter than you look. You figured out how to create and cast your own spells. Seeing what you did earlier, you also clearly have no problems with improvising.”

His eyes flick to my fumbling fingers and back to the papers in his hands. I instantly let go of the sleeve of my dress and clasp my hands together in front of me. Uncertain of how to react to his insult followed by a compliment, I remain quiet.

“Sophia did a good job helping you with the basics. You have your own style when it comes to casting a spell. There isn’t much left to teach you on that front. I can offer you guidance and advice whenever and wherever you need it. That is, if you’re not afraid to ask.” He gives me the most condescending look as he puts the papers down.

“You have book smarts, so perhaps it’s best if I help you with actually putting that knowledge to use.” The way that he talks to me only makes me regret my decision that much more. It’s so… condescending. “Elomadh, the language, hasn’t been a problem?” he asks.

“It hasn’t,” I reply in a clipped tone.

He nods his approval at this, clearly taking note of my tone but choosing to ignore it. “Good. Though you wouldn’t be the first one to struggle with the ancient language.” I raise a brow in question. “I think humans call it Enochian nowadays.”

“Enochian? As in the language of the angels?”

He scoffs at this. “Yeah, sure. That’s what those feathery bastards want you to believe.” He pins me with another glare before continuing. “Just to be sure that earlier wasn’t a fluke, how do you cast the best counter spell?” He leans back in his seat and looks at me expectantly.

“By using a basic full defense spell and modifying it to the specific spell that it needs to counter. This is best done by adding elements from the spell in question. Words, signs, sacrifice if necessary.”

He nods again. “Being fast is an important part when casting a counter spell. When your opponent utters their first word, you already have to get to your defense or you’re dead. Or worse.” His eyes glister at that last part, and I know very well what he means by it.

It also gives me an idea to further modify the defense. Uncertain if it would work or not, I hold my tongue while I think about it. My attention drifts for a second, and he notices. Before I have time to react, he’ s holding my face locked in his hand, preventing me from moving while he stares me down. I practically feel the color drain from my face, and I try not to flinch under his touch.

“The only reason I’m giving you my time is so that maybe, just maybe, you will unlock your potential. I only have a use for that and your body.” His eyes quickly look me up and down before they return to my own. “Make sure that I don’t find myself having one less reason to keep you around.”

He shoves me away, and I almost fall down. As he stalks toward the door, he gestures for me to follow him and, obediently, I do. My legs are shaking as the heat of his touch lingers against my face. I swallow hard, my head feeling light as I stare at my feet with every step that I take, fearful that I might trip over them. At the same time, I curse myself for this stupid idea because he’s clearly an insufferable asshole. If dealing with Isra wasn’t a pain, this most certainly will be. I already feel ready to pick a fight with him, only managing not to because I know he’ll wipe the floor with me.

Once we’re out in the garden, he turns around to face me and starts to cast a spell. Knowing he won’t give me time to catch up, I quickly pick up the most important keywords. My ice-blue magic mirrors his black in a defense that matches his attack, both spells cast almost simultaneously. My skin tingles from my magic, my heartbeat racing because I’m able to keep up with him.

He throws his attack at me, and my defense holds up against it, though bits and pieces of both our spells fly around us as his attack chips away at my defense. But it holds, and a rush of adrenaline courses through my body.

He actually looks… impressed? A faint smirk plays on his lips, as if telling me that perhaps I’m worth his time after all. The next moment, he sets to working on a second spell, reminding me that I shouldn’t slack off. That this is an actual fight, perhaps even the one I almost st arted mere minutes ago.

He adds a blood sacrifice, and this has me deciding that now is as good a time as any to try out my idea. A decision not at all urged on by the fact that part of me wants to punch him in the face for how he spoke to me earlier. For what he did to me.

Since he warned me not to recklessly use blood sacrifices, I work in a way to use his sacrifice to my advantage. Sophia’s words flash through me: “It always has to be in part your own or it would not be much of a sacrifice.”

Time to put that to the test. I fuel the protection with a small blood sacrifice of my own. It should be enough to take the brunt of his attack and will allow the second part of my spell to activate. For that, both spells need to make contact. Because that’s when mine can steal the necessary parts from his spell.

It’s a stretch, and I’m far from certain that this will work how I’m hoping it will. The fact that he’s adding a sacrifice to his attack means that it’s going to be another painful one. I’m hoping that my defense can at least take off the edge if nothing else.

The spells collide a moment later, his black and my ice blue. The impact is enormous, and I only barely manage to put up a second basic defense. This one keeps me from being blown away by the explosion and tethers me to the soil underneath my feet. The sound of the two spells colliding is deafening. Dust, leaves, and grass fly through the air around us. A tree collapses next to me, barely missing my defense and most importantly, me.

Looks like she was wrong about this as well.

The dust makes me cough and clouds my sight. Unable to see around me, I have to assume that my idea failed.

Slowly, everything that flies around starts to settle or fall down. The air clears up somewhat, and I manage to make out my surroundings. The part of the garden between us has turned into a literal wasteland .

And then I see him, almost hidden between the trees, wrapped up in his wings. Feathers fall away from him, leaving parts of his bloodred skin peeking through.

“You added an attack to your defense?” His voice is flat, muffled behind his wings.

I’m almost afraid to answer him. My voice shakes, and a tremble works itself through my limbs, my magic at the ready in case he decides to go for another attack. “Y-yes.”

His wings disappear with a single motion, taking the red skin with them. Blood drips from his right arm. My eyes widen as I realize that this means my idea was a success after all.

Once again, he picks up on my distraction. He casts his next attack so fast that all I manage to do is bring forth another basic defense. I really have to learn that he sees everything. Otherwise, there will come a time when I won’t be fast enough. I dread what could happen in that moment.

My current protection barely holds out as it is, his attack going at it like a battering ram before it runs out of power and dissipates. There is no doubt in my mind that I will not always be this lucky. I’m certain that he’s holding back, I just know it. There is no way that I’m already strong and skilled enough to stand against a man that has who knows how many years of experience with wielding magic. A man that was most likely born with magic coursing through his veins.

“If I had used the same spell as before, you would be dead now,” comes his snarky remark.

I tsk at this, a snarl lingering on my face, showing him that I’m well aware.

Everything about him pisses me off and, even though I know I shouldn’t, it makes me act out. The good thing about a basic defense is that it allows me to get started on my counterattack faster. Meaning that I do the first thing that I think of in an attempt to get back at him .

Without hesitating, I work to modify his earlier spell to have it use his blood on impact. I throw it at him before he’s able to add to his comment.

As I hoped, he only notices my twist when it’s too late. His eyes scan over the spell that’s coming for him, and his gaze catches on that one symbol. He swears, realizing that he won’t be just casually flicking this one away. With swift movements, he casts a second defensive layer, knowing that might be his best option. What he does completely miss is that I’ve also added a diversion. While the main part of my attack clashes with his defense and is stopped in its tracks, the collision creates cracks in his defense. The real attack absorbs some energy from his spell and slips through these newly formed cracks. It goes straight for his injured arm and shreds it to pieces.

It only takes a second for the spell to eat away at his flesh. It takes literal bites out of his skin and muscle until his arm is hanging limply by his side. It’s reduced to nothing but a bloody pulp. Bits and pieces of bone are visible through the gaping holes where both skin and muscle are missing.

His face turns awfully pale, and he falls to his knees with a curse, clutching his arm against his chest. His lips curl in anger, and the look that he gives me is filled with the promise of pain.

I swallow and take a step toward him, regret putting a knot in my stomach. Regret because I know that this is going to come back to me.

“Don’t,” he barks at me, and I wince, immediately freezing in my step.

His nostrils flare, and he has his teeth bared at me. He looks more like a wild animal than a person. His magic twists and turns around him before it settles on his arm and seeps into the wound.

“Leave,” he snarls, his magic reaching out to me.

I don’t wait to be told twice, flinching away from his magic. Swiftly turning on my heel, I make myself scarce. My heart races in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I almost trip and fall, my legs weakening with every step that I take, the rush of the fight rapidly leaving me.

Cursing at myself, I dare to look back at him. He drops his head, his chest heaving. My jaw clenches, and I look in front of me again, refusing to recognize the twinge of remorse that bubbles under my skin. Or that soft pull that wants me to return to him.

M y hands hesitate on the heavy library doors. One slowly pushes it open while the other goes to the jewel around my neck. Touching it seems to have a calming effect; it grounds me and helps me take a moment to clear my mind.

Chewing at my inner cheek, I curl my fingers over the side of the door and peek inside, listening. It’s stupid, because the library is big enough that I wouldn’t be able to hear him if he’s somewhere at the far end. Some of my magic leaks out of me, crawling over the hardwood floor to scope the place out for me just to be sure, even though that sixth sense of mine reassures me that he isn’t in here.

There’s a tingling sensation in my chest while I wait for my magic to do its thing, and then a sigh of relief when it comes back to me with confirmation. Resting my head against the warm wood, I take a few deep breaths. A slow smile plays on my lips as I open them and step inside.

I really don’t need him looking over my shoulder when I try to find something that will help me with powering up my spells. It’s infuriating that he has an advantage over me, and I want to close the gap between us as soon as possible. Last time was nothing but pure luck, and I know that I won’t be able to get a spell like that in a second time. Now that he knows, he’ll expect it. Just as I expect him to come for me again.

I slowly walk past the rows and rows of books, picking up anything that looks like it could be useful. Most of it isn’t, though, I notice after flicking through the pages, sighing. In the end, I put book after book back on its shelf. There’s one book that’s specifically about blood sacrifices, but it assumes that I have limbs to spare.

It’s as if magical power is automatically correlated with how much you’re willing to give up in return. He never uses more blood than me, so I know that isn’t all there is to it. It makes me wonder if it’s my magic that isn’t sufficient. Perhaps there’s simply nothing to do about it.

I curse under my breath, unwilling to accept this possibility. If my magic is limited and I can’t even take him on, then how am I ever going to get out of here? I can’t be stuck here because of my own incapabilities. Why would he even bother with giving me magic if it leads to nothing? Sure, I was able to get back at Henry, but that’s far from enough.

There is a way out, I know it; I’ve seen it. If he can leave, then so can I. I tasted freedom when I left for Henry and, even though it was short-lived, it’s what urges me on in my conviction. And since this place is clearly meant for him and I’m just collateral damage, there is no way these walls will be able to contain me. All I need is more power and a finger pointing me in the right direction.

Huffing and puffing, I flip through another book, looking for more information. My eyes widen when I find that the second half of this particular one is nothing but blank pages.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”

Startled, I drop the book, only for him to grab it out of the air before it hits the ground. It’s the second time that he’s managed to sneak up on me like that, and I find it more than unsettling. He looks at the cover with a raised eyebrow, then puts it back on the shelf. The sleeve of his shirt rides up, revealing his bandaged hand and arm. Instinctively, I back away from him so that he can’t reach out and grab me. My magic hums under my skin, ready to strike. My muscles tense as my body prepares itself to run if necessary.

He notices and scoffs at me, shaking his head. “Sorry to disappoint,” he says with obvious sarcasm, jutting his chin back at the book he put away and choosing to ignore my reaction to his proximity. “I haven’t been able to finish this one yet.”

I look at him, puzzled, yet still wary. My body relaxes ever so slightly, but my magic remains at the ready.

“I’ve written most of these,” he says as an answer to my wondering gaze. “You’d be surprised with the hobbies you take up when you have literally all the time in the world.”

“It wasn’t helpful anyway,” I blurt, biting my tongue immediately after, shocked by my own bluntness.

He laughs while he looks at me from the corner of his eye. “I think that you already know enough when it comes to blood sacrifices,” he says, running his bandaged fingers through his hair.

“I know that it makes no difference in the end.”

He looks me up and down, dropping his hand from his hair. There’s a knowing gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. I hate how that look makes me feel, how it makes me forget about my anger for a split second. So, I take another step away from him.

“It doesn’t,” he says, walking to the ever-burning fire in the center of the library, his hands in his pockets. “Magic is very much trial and error until you figure it out.” I open my mouth to bite back at him, but he shuts me up with a single glance. “I can’t spell it out for you. It’s different for everyone. What works for some doesn’t work for another. You want to get stronger? Then you have to figure out for yourself what works for you and your magic. Anyone else can only point you in a general direction, but you’re mostly on your own.”

“You mean to say that it’s just running in the dark until you find a path instead of a wall?”

He smiles a cruel smile, baring his teeth at me. “At least you’ve already figured out that the sacrifice doesn’t always have to be yours. Or, at least, not all of it. You can easily work around that, as you so skillfully exemplified earlier. Some don’t even reach that level. Though I highly recommend you not test my patience with that technique.”

That was most definitely both a compliment and a warning.

He stands by the fire, watching me, the flickering flames casting shadows over his face. It makes him look even more menacing, even more dangerous. Almost… demonic.

My pulse quickens at the thought, at the clear danger in the way he regards me. Yet at the same time, there is something in his eyes. It unnerves me immensely. I furrow my brow, blinking at him while we stand looking at each other.

In a second, his expression turns flat, and he walks away without speaking another word. I look at his back as he leaves me standing there, and I can’t help but wonder... What's he hoping to gain from this?