Rebirth (Lost Souls #1)

Chapter 30

A feeling of unease with an underlying tone of urgency pulls me out of my slumber.

At first, I catch myself thinking it’s because of him—perhaps his wounds are still acting up—but the sound of his even breathing eases my mind. He’s fast asleep with one arm draped over me. I quietly slip out of bed, trying to not wake him, and tiptoe to the bathroom. His wings are still lying on the floor, puddles and smears of blood everywhere.

A look in the mirror shows me that I’m not any better. Not only are my hands and arms caked in dry blood, but there is also plenty on my face, in my hair, and on my clothes.

I remove my filthy dress and corset before stepping into the shower, the water quickly turning hot. The sight of blood isn’t a problem to me; it’s removing it that annoys me immensely. And, lately, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing too often for my liking. It's yet another thing that’s starting to become a regular occurrence, it seems.

Once I feel and look clean, I dry off and wrap the big, fluffy towel around me, being careful to avoid the blood still coating the bathroom. He’s awake when I enter the bedroom, lazily sitting in bed and looking me over.

“There are a few dresses in the closet,” he says with a gesture.

I round the bed toward the built-in closet. Inside of it, I find dresses, corsets, stays, and even underwear—way more than I expected. His eyes almost burn a hole in my back when I drop the towel and get dressed.

I pick out a midnight-blue dress with butterfly sleeves, the fabric slightly thicker than I’m used to. It’s soft to the touch and feels pleasant against my skin. Looking around, I notice a beautiful belt corset that matches the dress perfectly. It has lacing in the back and is the same color as the dress, but has antique golden stars embroidered on the fabric.

“Don’t,” I say. He stands behind me, his body heat betraying his proximity. I didn’t even notice him leave the bed to approach. “We’ve lost enough time as it is.”

“Are you sure?” he asks while running his knuckles down my spine, making me shiver under his touch.

“Yes.” I sidestep him. “Especially with all the preparations we still need to make.” I nod at him and the blood still covering his body. “The notes and supplies for your part of the spell are in the library. I’m going ahead to prepare on my side.”

He’s silent for a moment, thinking.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” I add.

It’s then that a grin crosses his face, as if he only just realized what’s about to happen. He looks at me, and I see it all in his eyes—more than either of us can put into words. I return his grin, and his warm hand cups my face. Our eyes meet and, without looking away, he places a soft kiss on my lips.

He makes to step away, but I stop him in his tracks.

“Show me your back.” He turns around, and I quickly inspect the stitches. “I’ll take them out.”

He follows me to the bathroom, where we carefully maneuver around the massacre we left, and I pick up my dagger. I rinse it for good measure, then cut and pull out the threads. The wounds have healed up nicely, and I smooth them over with a final healing spell. It leaves behind two small scars.

“The scars are going to be permanent, I’m afraid.”

“You can give me as many scars as you want, love,” he teases with a wink before turning around and heading for the shower.

I take this as my cue and leave him to it. I have a spell of my own to prepare, after all.

T he fire in the hearth of the library crackles and pops, the sound soothing my nerves. For a moment longer, I let my mind wander and wonder what it will be like to live here with him. To anyone else, we must seem quite the couple. To me… I don’t know what we are, but definitely not what we started out as.

My eyes go over my notes and the Eloghyll translation to ensure I’ve made no mistakes. Though, in all honesty, I don’t think I could ever be fully confident in this spell if my nerves are anything to go by. That’s why I decided on a manual magic circle, to at least not take any chances in that regard.

After clearing a space on the floor big enough for a circle he can stand in, I use my dagger to open a vein in my left arm. Then, I start the meticulous task of drawing the circle, using my blood as ink. Once the circle is finished, I open the jar with the blood-and-teeth mixture. I use the paste to carefully add the Eloghyll symbols to the circle. With every symbol that I draw, more and more magical energy gathers in the air around me, humming and vibrating as if in anticipation of what’s to come .

With one last look at it, I construct a small transportation circle with a wave of my hand. It smoothly appears in front of me, as easily as I hoped.

“I’m ready. How far along are you?” I speak into the circle, keeping the magic flowing through the palm of my hand.

There is no reply, which makes me doubt whether or not the spell has actually reached him.

“Mal?”

“Adding the last symbols now.”

A small smile escapes me upon hearing his voice. A few moments later, he throws something away. Glass shatters, followed by the sound of a raging fire in the distance.

“Already burning everything down?” I chuckle.

“I have to uphold my promise,” he replies, his voice thick with venom.

“Then let’s get this over with.”

“Let’s. See you soon, love.”

A single gesture, and the circle in the palm of my hand disappears just as a feeling creeps up on me, unmistakably and with perfect timing. A glance at my left hand confirms it. The cut in my hand bleeds once more, the blood magically forming the circle of the curse. It glows in a mixture of blood that’s red and black, scorching my skin.

The circle cuts my flesh as it sinks into the open palm of my hand. My skin heals completely, the cut smoothing over once more as if nothing ever happened. But the circle—the curse—remains a permanent mark under my skin. Unseen, but keeping me connected to it until the last of Henry’s bloodline perishes. That’s when the mark will leave me.

Returning my concentration to the task at hand, I take the vial with feather dust from the desk and pop it open. Standing in front of the circle, I close my eyes. Doubt gnaws at me as it stirs a slight quiver in my stomach. A tinge of fear as well, making me remember all that went wrong with my previous spells.

“Qaol daiho io onra novohp at i tuminom mrap muziv incal. ”

The first words leave my lips, and I immediately feel the temperature in the room drop. The magic that has been building up in the library since I started drawing the circle starts to pull at me. Gently at first, but more powerful as I speak word after word.

It rips at my skin, trying to get to the magic that fuels me as it aggressively attempts to violate my body. It succeeds, tiny holes ripping in my flesh and making me bleed once more. I let it, knowing there is nothing to be done about it. I have to let this magic tear away at me. This magic that I know is mine, yet still feels foreign and invasive.

The more I bleed, the more it makes a fire burn deep inside me, urging me on and demanding I continue.

“Vovcomilet ocsr ors at incal do rpleg.”

The fire in the fireplace roars loudly. The temperature goes from freezing cold to scorching hot in mere seconds. The magic-induced heat beats against my skin, and it seals the many tiny wounds shut, preventing any more blood from leaving me. It also burns me, as if the magic now requires my flesh instead of my blood.

My inner magic rages in response, healing every burned patch before the heat can get to my muscles. It thus relentlessly feeds the spell my own skin, replenishing so that it can continue to take from me.

“Irchtssoe sior sofn ibne sra batsa labtmu rdxi fanef do auqbs paali.”

My eyes shoot open while I speak the words. With a single gesture, I tame the fire so my skin gets a chance to heal properly. The last word leaves me, no more than a whisper, and a smile plays on my lips.

I throw the feather into the circle. As soon as it connects with the blood, the circle activates itself and starts to transform. New lines appear between the ones drawn in blood. They create an extra connection, sending even more power through the circle. It pulsates, growing and expanding, alive with magic and pure, raw power. Both the circle and the spell keep amassing more and more magic until I’m certain anyone outside that’s familiar with the touch of magic can sense it.

The magical vibrations become so strong that they almost shatter my eardrums, yet it still keeps growing, almost spinning out of control. For a moment, I fear that it will actually destroy everything around it, just like the time-stitching spell did. I see and feel it tear at the fabric of reality.

With a single movement, my dagger is in my hand. With one flick, I open another vein in my arm. Then one in my other arm. I fall to my knees, the rapid blood loss almost enough for me to faint as it makes my head spin. The ground shakes when I put my hands against it, and I steal a precious moment to take a deep breath. I tilt my head upward and see the circle has risen from the floor, leaving it cracked with brute force.

Without taking my eyes off it, I start to cast the most elaborate protection spell I’ve ever constructed. It’s an attempt to contain the magic from the summoning spell. Its magical tendrils coil around the library, ruining everything it comes into contact with.

My blood and my magic mix at the tips of my fingers. They spread out from the point where I connect with the floor, a mixture of blue and red. They intertwine, powering each other as they swiftly cover the floor, the walls, and the ceiling.

The last speck of ceiling above me vanishes behind a wall of ice blue. I stand up on shaky legs and cautiously look around me. The cuts in my arms heal themselves, and I hope my protection will be enough, that it will hold out.

Magical energy gathers itself in a sphere in the center of the circle. It’s so dark that it seems able to pull everything in—to swallow everything. It sucks all the energy from its surroundings, throbbing like a vein as it feeds on it. The protection I cast mere seconds ago is already weakening, and it has me growing fearful. The spell can’t fail. It can’t. There is no way to redo it, and the magical fallout will create too much damage to keep under control.

So, I lift the dagger in my hand, ready to cut myself once more.

Before I’m able to, the sphere cracks open and returns all it has taken tenfold. My protection shatters, and I collapse from the force of the impact. The released magic rushes past me in a violent whirlwind. Somehow, it leaves both me and my surroundings unharmed. Only the glamor on my arms shatters, revealing the scarred markings. A second wave goes by me, and I know why.

I drop the dagger and get up, my eyes on the circle. It has returned to its original position and starts to calm down. Bloodred smoke with specks of black fill the inside, seeping through the cracks of the magic that contains it.

That’s when I feel it, clearly and undeniably.

His magic fills the room in waves that tug at me. It wants me, needs me, and craves to take over me completely. There is no hesitation as I let it do just that. His magic fills me up, caressing my own in a merciless yet endearing way that sends sparks of energy sizzling through my body.

A moment later, everything goes eerily quiet. A feeling of foreboding, of something that isn’t supposed to be, takes over as it snuffs everything else out. His black magic seeps out of the circle like a tsunami of smoke, washing over the floor before he emerges from within.

His magic surges through and over his body, crackling around us as it continues to reach toward me. His eyes shimmer brightly in the light from the fire. They find me and immediately lock on my blue and green ones. I gasp, and my eyes widen in response .

His eyes are no longer yellow, but the beautiful, mesmerizing color of molten gold .