Rebirth (Lost Souls #1)

Chapter 14

T he pain from my left arm surges through me before I even open my eyes. When I do open them, I find myself alone in the bedroom, tucked under the covers. I get up with a groan and stumble to the bathroom. Once there, I take a moment to rest with my back against the wall, my breathing thin and labored.

After a minute or two, I grit my teeth and move to the sink, my hands grabbing at the sides for support. Hanging my head, I mutter my healing spell, in desperate need for it to take the edge off and kick-start my own healing, because otherwise I’ll be fainting in no time.

Slowly, I start to feel better and, once my hands stop shaking, I set to remove the bandages. My left arm sends sharp jolts of pain through me with every single movement, and I can’t wait for that to be gone as well. When I finally get the bandages off my right wrist, I’m glad to find the cut mostly healed. All that remains is a red scar, but that, too, will fade soon enough.

Next, I carefully undo the ones on my left arm and find the skin underneath red and patchy, the healing going too slow for my liking. I gently run some more healing magic through my arm in hopes of speeding up the process. It would be easier to instantly heal the wounds, but I’ve done enough research to know that the body can’t always handle instant healing spells. I’m not willing to take any chances in that regard.

After tending to my wounds, I end up eyeing the shower, hesitant for a moment until I decide, what the heck , and use the opportunity to indulge myself. As soon as the hot water touches my skin, I let out a loud sigh. I need one of these for my own bathroom.

After a long, hot shower, I find a pair of clean clothes that I’m not sure were there before. I’m way past the point of caring, so I dry off and slip on the underwear. There is a small roll of bandages waiting for me at the sink now, and I wrap up my left arm for extra support during the healing process.

I try to not think of the possibility that he came in here again while I was in the shower.

I put on the wavy, cornflower-blue dress with bishop sleeves. There is a matching Elizabethan corset that has beautiful silver flowers embroidered on the fabric. My hand rests on it for a moment, my finger tracing over the patterns. The clothes that he provides me with are always so beautiful, and definitely more expensive than I’m used to. Even though I don’t need expensive or fancy clothes, I won’t deny that it’s nice to be able to wear something a bit more sophisticated.

I finish lacing up the corset and slip on the low heels that I find right outside the bathroom door.

Leaving his bedroom and heading toward the garden, I find that my arm still stings, meaning that I won’t be able to do as much as I would like for a while longer. Poking my tongue into my cheek, I take a moment to think. I tap my fingers against my legs, and some magic springs free. I decide to try and recreate his transportation spell. If I succeed, then perhaps that will be my ticket out of here.

Upon entering the library, I find him near the fireplace, looking for something by going through some books. On a pile next to him is the book in which I found the coin earlier, and I wonder if that’s what he’s looking for.

He doesn’t react to my presence as I sit down behind my usual desk. I look at him, biting my nail with my head slightly cocked to the side, wondering why he hasn’t tried to force himself on me again. I shouldn’t be questioning this, but I am. Especially since he seems like he wants to. I’m not in a position to oppose him, so he easily could. Not that I want him to, but it doesn’t make sense. It makes me consider again if he’s testing me in some way. But for what purpose? To bring out that potential he mentioned? He did reapply his glamor, the bloodred skin again hidden under the warm honey. He played me for a fool, that much is clear.

With a shake of my head, I focus my attention on the task at hand. I start to draw and write down the part of his tracking spell that I was able to make out. What I manage to piece together from memory is not enough to reproduce the original spell. This means that it’s better, and mostly safer, to start from scratch.

Lost in thought, I don’t notice him approaching until he stands in front of me, looking down on my notes. His eyes narrow, clearly recognizing the spell.

A soft hum, followed by his voice. “What are you trying to accomplish?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“Exactly what it looks like,” I snap, crossing my arms in front of my chest and leaning back in my seat.

“You want to return to a place that abandoned you, left you to die?” His words are harsh, but they don’t scare me. Quite on the contrary.

“Perhaps I should have died there.” Saying it out loud in that moment, I believe it. I should have died back then, and I hate him for taking that away from me. Everything would have been so much easier that way.

“Continuing on with this will have you end up dead. ”

“Then so be it.”

Collecting the papers in my arms, I get up and leave without looking back. Trying to leave would kill me? Fine. There may not be anything for me anymore back home, but there is even less for me here.

Back in my room, I use his transportation spell as a base for the new spell. In hopes of eliminating a possible time limit, I add some extra power to it and a simple blood sacrifice to get it started. At the same time, my mind is already working on sorting out the sacrifice that will keep all of this together.

I scan over what I already have, then set on working on a second spell: a protection to help me pass through the first spell with only a relatively small blood sacrifice. This is to keep me safe in case the sacrifice isn’t enough to cover everything.

The third and final spell will be crucial to keep the whole thing going, as it’s a sacrificial spell. As soon as I cross over, I have to fire that one up. It will sense how much extra power the first spell needs and take this from its surroundings. A one-mile radius should be plenty, as long as I set foot in a well-populated area. This means murdering tens, or even hundreds, of people just to feed my spell, and I don’t even hesitate at the idea. If it allows me to break free, then nothing else matters.

I have suffered enough for another’s sake, and I’m done with it. It’s time for someone else to suffer for me. Even if it means that I’ll be using the worst kind of magic and cursing innocent people.

Working on my spells, I lose all track of time, feeling myself become emotionally numb as I keep pushing and pushing. Eventually, I fall asleep with my head on my papers and dream horrible dreams about my previous life. About the abuse Henry put me through. The many times he talked down on me, berated me, beat me, raped me. All because I wouldn’t give him a child. Then because I couldn’t give him one anymore, even though the doctor told him that the chances were slim for me to conceive a second time. Even though he knew that if I by some miracle did, it would most likely end up killing me.

He simply didn’t care.

But what haunts me the most through the recurring dreams are those green eyes that replace Henry’s amber-brown ones.