Rebirth (Lost Souls #1)

Chapter 23

I wake up in his bed, wrapped in his arms with my head against his chest, slightly confused when I find I don’t recall how I got here. Then I remember feeling utterly spent after releasing my magic. I remember him bringing me here, tucking us in, and holding me close. Falling asleep together.

His soft, even breathing is soothing and, when I look at him, I notice that he’s indeed asleep. So, he does sleep.

“Not if you keep staring at me like that,” he grumbles.

A soft laugh escapes me. It’s only then that I notice we’re both naked, and a blush heats my cheeks. He wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling me closer and resting his chin on my head. It immediately makes me forget about my shame as I soak up his warmth and breathe in his scent. That amazing scent that I’m slowly getting addicted to.

“Going to toss these sheets,” he mumbles in my hair. “I was so focused on taking care of you that I forgot to take care of myself.”

“Hmm?” I crane my neck, and when I see the red stains and smears all over the sheets, I recall the wound in his abdomen. How he never used his magic to heal it. He tips my head up to give me a soft kiss, and that’s when I notice something.

“Are those tattoos?”

He tenses upon hearing these words. I break free from him and sit up in the bed, clutching the sheet against my chest for modesty. All the while, he looks up at me as if he’s seen a ghost. My finger traces one of the many tattoos that grace his chest and arms. The black ink is mesmerizing against his dark-red skin. I feel something else underneath the symbols and circles. Scars?

Before I can ask more about it, he flinches and pulls away from me. “They’re not tattoos,” he growls. He almost sounds embarrassed under that flare of anger.

“Then what are they? I can tell that they’re magic circles, but?—”

“They’re the shackles that bind me here,” he snaps, effectively cutting me off.

I go silent, unsure of how to react.

“I usually keep them covered up, but the glamor must have broken last night.” He mumbles a few words, and the tattoos disappear, once again covered by a glamor. As he leaves the bed, I grab his wrist to stop him.

“You promised,” I say, my voice stern and cold.

“This is different.” He pulls his arm away from me.

“It really isn’t.”

He glares at me, and my magic shoots out at him. Like a pebble against the still surface of water, it disrupts the illusion and creates ripples that break his glamor.

Rage fills his eyes as he looks at me. “You—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence. In an instant, he’s on top of me with his hands around my neck.

Anger takes him over as he applies pressure, and it takes everything I have in that moment to remain calm. Putting my hands on his arms, I do my best not to break eye contact, despite feeling myself slipping away.

Touching him seems to make him regain some of his senses. He curses while pulling himself away from me. Air immediately fills my lungs, and stars dance in front of my eyes.

Without speaking a single word, he storms off to the bathroom and slams the door behind him. Moments later, the shower turns on, and the sound of the water calms me.

And here I thought we were making some kind of progress.

I huff and then carefully touch my neck with my fingertips. Bruises are already forming on my skin, sore and sensitive. I want to go after him, rage against him, but my magic is still depleted. And I’m so very tired. Mumbling curses under my breath, I lower myself onto the mattress once more. I turn to my side, pulling up the sheet and closing my eyes.

I’ll get back at him… Someday.

I open my eyes with a groan, not wanting to face him because I’m afraid that I’ll pick another fight. My body won’t be able to handle it. Carefully lifting myself up on my arms, I scan the room and find myself alone. Relief floods me as I get up. Shuffling to the bathroom, I squint my eyes when I flick the light on, the brightness almost painful. Looking at myself in the mirror, at the fading bruises on my neck, I don’t find them nearly as disturbing as I should. What am I becoming?

“Perhaps the magic you so willingly accepted is already changing you.”

I don’t know how much truth Isra’s words hold, if my—his, our—magic is even able to change me in the way she implied. I should probably care about it, but I don’t. Not really. Right now, all I care about is a hot shower.

The hot water does the trick, as usual. It calms me down and relaxes me, even when my fingers can’t stop touching my sore neck. I sigh upon feeling the painful sting of my touch. Carefully, I use some of my—at the moment, scarce—magic to heal the bruises. Unfortunately, it does nothing to quell the anger that still lingers inside me. Not necessarily for how he treated me, but more for how he acted toward me.

Getting out of the shower, I find a set of clean clothes that he put out for me. At least he’s always considerate in that regard. This time, it’s a dress and a pair of stays. The midnight-blue dress has long sleeves and is soft to the touch. It feels light against my skin, even with the black stays on top. Now I just have to hope that he will let me take it easy for a while so I get the chance to decently replenish my magic.

It feels good to stretch my legs, and I take the time to stroll through the garden, focusing on relaxing and giving myself some time to think about how I’m going to proceed from here on out. He was right when he said that there’s nothing out there for me to return to. I knew I would be needing a new home, but I never actually took the time to stop and think about it. I’ve been so driven by my hatred toward Henry that I lost sight of what I’m going to do in the long run.

Home.

I think about the house waiting for me, for us, and how I don’t mind the idea of living there with him. But am I actually going to be able to call that place home? Because the more I think about it, the more I come to realize that’s all that I really want—a place to go home to, a place to belong.

A sigh leaves me, and I decide that I should get to work on that summoning spell. I don’t know how much time has passed since returning, which means that I shouldn’t waste too much of it.

On my way to the library, the sound of arguing voices reaches me. One of the voices is his and he’s clearly angry, almost shouting. This immediately has me on edge, my hackles rising instantly. My magic flits through me as if it expects to be pounced on at any moment. I have known him to be angry before, but he has always remained collected and in control. Assuming he doesn’t want me to snoop, I creep closer and hide myself between the trees, glad for the darker shade of my clothing.

He stands in front of the open library doors while heatedly arguing with a person, an actual person. An outsider. I’m not certain what catches me off guard the most: the fact that someone else is here, unbothered by it all, or the fact that this man is downright gorgeous. His skin is the color of light caramel, and he has dark-brown hair that hits his mid back in long fringes. He’s slightly taller and wears a dark-blue three-piece suit that accentuates his skin beautifully. The way he moves is so graceful that it almost looks like he’s floating.

The visitor is trying to calm him down, but shushing him only throws oil on the fire. They are conversing in Elomadh, so fast that I only manage to pick up on a few words. His name falls, and he answers by grabbing the visitor by the collar. The visitor is caught off guard, and his dark-red eyes widen. He pushes back, and a pair of dark–warm gray feathery wings appears behind him.

The visitor is released with a snarl, and he lets his wings down as if it was nothing but a show of power. Remembering his broken wings and seeing the look on his face, I understand that’s exactly what it was. Just as with the tattoos, he’s embarrassed about his broken wings, though he will probably never admit to it. It gives me an unsettling feeling of who this visitor might be.

They both shrug it off and, with a few last words, the visitor spreads his wings once more. With a single flap, he disappears in a flurry of feathers, leaving one angry man behind.

After a few seconds of visibly collecting himself, he straightens his back and turns to where I’m hiding. “You can come out now.”

I gulp as I stand and approach him. I get the idea that he’s not as angry as I expected him to be, but I’m not sure if I should be relieved about that or not. He looks at me, and I know he’s thinking about what to say. Or about how to say it .

“For once, it was a good thing you were sneaking around,” he eventually says. “It would have complicated things if he found you here.”

Being able to leave clearly isn’t the only thing that he’s not supposed to do.

“Who is he?”

“My brother and my warden, coming to check if I’m still in my rightful place. It seems that someone out there picked up on my magical signature.” He gives me the side-eye. “You should try covering that up next time.”

“How was I supposed to know that it can be detected? That there is someone that can do just that?” I snap at him, already fed up with his bullshit and the tone he’s taking with me.

“Hmm, I might indeed have failed to mention that.”

“You think?”

His eyes narrow in warning, but I’m not impressed. He notices and sighs, not in the mood to fight me on it. “Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “The world is inhabited by more than just mere humans. Amongst these inhumans are quite a few that might be able to sense your presence. The house is warded against this and more, but you should keep it in mind for when you step outside. They might decide to seek you out.” He regards me for a moment, then adds, “If they do, and they’re a bother, just deal with them as you see fit.”

For a moment there, it sounded as if there was a trace of concern in his voice. And he followed it up by basically giving me permission to kill anyone that comes close to me.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Your specific brand of concern for my well-being is almost charming.” The look he gives me tells me that he doesn’t understand. “Don’t worry,” I say, coming up to him. “I seem to have taken a liking to it. ”

Standing in front of him, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me. When I kiss him, I realize that I’ve lost the ability to stay angry with him, no matter what he says or does to me. I have no idea what this is between us, but with each passing moment I find that I care less and less, unable to linger on those details.

M y concentration is on a pile of books that I’m rummaging through when he enters the library.

“You know,” I say without looking up at him, “going back and forth is all good and everything, but the time difference is annoying me.”

He wraps his arms around my waist, startling me. “I have good news for you, then.” He holds up two feathers in front of me.

“Are these—” I start, recognizing the color.

“They are,” he interjects, spinning me around so that I face him.

“How?”

“It’s easy when someone always underestimates you.” There is a short flicker of hurt in his eyes, gone so fast that I almost doubt it was ever there to begin with. “He’s the one that created this prison, so I’m counting on a part of him being able to help us break it down. I was only going for one, so the second is a nice bonus to help you with your current grievance.”

“You think it could be possible to disable whatever magic causes the time difference?”

“It’s a part of the structure, so it’s worth giving it a try.” He hands me one of the feathers. “It would be convenient for both of us if you could make it so that time here and out there runs at the same pace.”

“How does time work here, exactly?” I ask while I accept the feather from him.

He takes a moment to think about how to answer me, which tells me that I’m only going to get a partial truth from him. I hope that one day he’ll share whole truths with me.

“This place exists outside of the normal flow of time. It progresses faster here compared to real time, but not always at the same speed. A day here can be ten years out there, but it can also be a hundred years.”

“That’s… inconvenient.”

He chuckles, and I roll the feather between my fingers. It emits power, warm and soothing.

“I should assume that I can only use it once?”

He nods.

My thoughts go to the spell that I’ll need to create for this. Seeing as it will affect this place, it will be best if I cast it from within these walls. Which, in turn, makes me think of something for the other spell.

“Would you say that this place was created using Elomadh?”

“Positive,” he says dryly. “He has no idea that Eloghyll even exists.”

“In other words, this place might not have built-in defenses for Eloghyll. Which means that this might give us an extra advantage. Elomadh will most likely be able to rip it open, but I’m guessing that Eloghyll will be able to tear it down after that.”

“That’s a fair assumption.”

“I think I’ll need to make the summoning spell two parts,” I continue. “The other feather will work best as a sacrifice if it is used here, in combination with Elomadh. Seeing how it’s impossible to work both sides at the same time, I’ll have to perform a part from outside and you’ll need to do the other part in here,” I think aloud, biting my nails.

My mind starts to go into overdrive as I walk away from him and take a seat at a desk, replacing the feather with pen and paper. “If the feather can be used as a sacrifice, then perhaps other items can as well?”

“It’s possible, but items do need something extra from the caster to count as a full-fledged sacrifice. Blood, in this case. Though the number of items that can be used at the same time might be limited.”

“But we’ll be using a two-in-one spell. If you can use the feather on this side, perhaps I can use something else on my side.” Tapping the pen against my chin, I’m thinking about what would be suitable.

“Maybe that feather of mine that you have hidden away in your nightstand drawer? Since you’ll be using Eloghyll on your part, the main sacrifice still needs to be blood, but it might be useful as a booster.” He looks at me knowingly. Of course he knows.

“It’s cute how you thought I didn’t know.”

Does this mean he knows about the coin as well?

“I do,” he says as he narrows his eyes. “You should return that at some point.”

“What is it? Except for a coin.”

“I’ll tell you, in due time.”

I know better than to press the matter, so I just roll my eyes and let it go. “But,” I say, putting my notes aside and taking a new piece of paper, “first things first. Time.”

I close my eyes, thinking while fumbling with the pen. “The most convenient thing would be if I could connect the current time here with the time when I was last over there,” I mumble, mostly to myself.

He moves and puts a chair down next to me. Keeping my eyes closed, ignoring him, I try to stay focused. “Stitching the different flows of time together to make them one, in the same timeline.” As I spin the pen in my right hand, he tangles the fingers from my left hand in his. Then he starts to slowly pull my hand closer to him. He starts to kiss my fingers, licking them. He tries to break my concentration, but I do my best to not let him .

He lowers my hand, putting my palm flat against something hot and hard, and I almost drop my pen. Opening my eyes, I rip my hand away from him and out of his reach. My heart pounds loudly in my chest as my cheeks turn bright red.

He gives me a cocky, pleased smile. His face rests on the palm of one hand, the other dangles between his spread legs. “You’re adorable when you’re blushing,” he purrs.

I flinch and make to pull away from him, but his hand is at my neck in an instant, holding me in my place. He tsks as he leans into me, his other hand sliding under my skirt. He moves the hand around my neck up and runs his thumb over my lips, his eyes full of lust and mischief. “Don’t worry, I promise not to keep you too long. If you use that pretty mouth of yours.”

Abruptly breaking away from him and almost tumbling onto the floor, I grab my papers and dash away without looking back.

“Teasing you is too easy, love.” He laughs behind me, his words only making me blush harder.

Entering my room, I throw everything onto my desk and then myself on the bed. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts manage to pick up where they left off.

Stitching time together, that’s what I had called it earlier. It seems like the best way to describe it. I used a glamor on the city garden next to the house when I was there. Since that’s a permanent spell, perhaps it’s possible to lock into its signature to pull the two pieces of time fabric toward each other. To then connect them—stitch them together.

That just leaves the question of a sacrifice, the part that will make or break my whole spell. One of the feathers will be used to appeal to the original magic that created this place, but it might not be enough on its own.

“I’m going to need to pop a vein for this one. And keep the tap running while I’m at it.” I sigh .

This actually terrifies me more than I’m willing to admit. Even though I apparently can’t die, I do still feel pain. The possibility of slowly bleeding out isn’t something that I look forward to.

I already feel anxiety planting its seeds deep inside my mind, and I want to get this over with as soon as possible. Also to avoid too much time passing by, which I assume will only make this whole thing that much harder to pull off. Time is difficult and confusing, and I would rather not mess with it if I had any other options. Which I, unfortunately, don’t have, so here we are.

Moving from the bed to my desk, I set to working on the spell once more. It ends up taking me another hour or so to get the wording right. Or, at least, to my liking, as there isn’t really a right or wrong. It’s more about using the most appropriate words to describe what needs to be done. Elomadh is very lyrical, making it almost impossible to come up with a direct translation. It’s all about getting as close as possible and then hoping for the best. It makes every first run of a new spell a gamble. I know that I’ve been incredibly lucky in that regard, except for that one time, but that wasn’t the spell’s fault.

I hope my luck won’t run out with this one.

When I reach the point where I’m satisfied with the spell, I copy my final notes on a clean sheet of paper. I’ve decided to start cataloging my spells, just in case, and so I can slowly start to contribute to the library.

Plus, I’m in need of a new hobby, anyway.