I drew in a deep breath. “I have faith. Maybe not always. Maybe tomorrow I won’t, but I...I refuse to believe that I would be put in this position with everything else going on, only to lose him all over again. I have faith in our love. He had enough faith in our love that he Fell for me. I have faith that what I feel for him will be enough to bring him back.”
Tony stared at me through eyes that seemed decades, if not more, older. He nodded, and I wanted to ask if the honest answer had been the right one.
“I can help you,” the Crone announced.
My head snapped back in her direction, and I almost couldn’t breathe. “You can?”
She nodded as she took another sip of the pink, fruity-scented wine. “You need a spell that brings him to you and also traps him.”
Traps him? Suddenly an image of Dean and Sam Winchester formed in my heads. “Like an Angel Trap? That sounds like some Supernatural-esque stuff.”
“Heh,” giggled Tony. “I’m a Castiel fan. You?”
I almost pointed out he seemed too young to be watching that show but refrained. He’d probably seen some crazy stuff. “I’m a Dean fan.”
“Of course you are.” His eyes rolled.
“I have no idea what you two are talking about,” the Crone said. “But yes, like an Angel Trap, I suppose. Well, more like a person trap, but that’s neither here nor there.”
My brows lifted as I saw an encircled pentagram in my head. I really needed to stop watching TV. “How do I create this spell—trap, whatever?”
“You will need a few things.” She lifted a hand, motioning with her fingers.
From wherever Tony had roamed out from, a male came forward, looking more like an accountant than an actual witch. He was fair-skinned and middle-aged, dressed in a black suit. He carried something in his hand. He placed it on the table beside the Crone, bowing in her direction before turning and heading back to wherever he came from.
The Crone picked up what I now realized was a small glass decanter, no bigger than the length of her hand. “I had this cooked up for you today, you know, just in case today was the day,” she said with a wink, and I shivered. “So, it’s still fresh, but it must be used tonight.” She handed it to me.
I carefully took it, turning the narrow, oval-shaped glass in my hand. There was deep gold liquid inside and...and smoke? Golden smoke? “What is in this?”
“This and that and probably a whole lot of what you wouldn’t want to know,” she answered, and the look she gave me warned I would be wise to not pursue her comment. “All you need to know is that it won’t harm him. You need to take that to where you first saw him as a Fallen.”
“Rock Creek Park,” I told her, and of course it would have to be somewhere superpublic.
She nodded. “You will open it tonight, when the sun retires.”
“That would be approximately 8:32 p.m., just in case you are wondering,” Tony supplied.
“You must bring with you a personal item of his and place it on the earth. The item must be freshly marked with your blood,” she instructed, and I couldn’t help but hope all nearby demons were nicely hidden so they didn’t catch the scent of my blood.
Apparently Tony was thinking the same, because his head swiveled toward the Crone.
“Then you will need to open the vial, emptying all the contents onto the item you have brought with you. You will briefly see a circle form,” she went on. “Once he is inside the circle, his grace will be cut off to him and he will be brought to his knees. Make sure you step out of it before it disappears, or you, too, will be trapped inside without your grace or strength. You do not want that.”
No. I did not.
“This will only hold for a few minutes,” she continued. “Angels, Fallen or not, Trueborn or not, are too powerful to contain for any lengthy period of time. You must act fast and you must not hesitate.”
“I won’t.” Closing my fingers around the vial, I inhaled deeply. The vial warmed to my touch. Some of the panic and hopelessness that had been weighing on me since I woke up to find that Zayne was gone abated. “Thank you.”
She nodded.
I lifted my gaze to hers. “And what do you want in exchange?”
The Crone’s answering smile was tight-lipped. “Do you not think that I give you this out of the kindness of my old heart?”
Holding her stare, I smiled in return. “I don’t know a whole lot about witches, but I know enough about humans in general to know that nearly nothing of importance is given without strings attached. What are those strings?”
“Smart girl,” murmured Tony.
One white, caterpillar-like brow rose. “What I want, if you succeed, is for you to bring the Fallen to me.”
My grip on the vial tightened. “What do you want from him?”
Her dark eyes sharpened into shards of obsidian. “I want just one feather.”
“Just one feather?” Unease festered. “What can you do with just one feather from a Fallen?”
“Endless things, child.” A smile came to her then, a dreamy, wistful one as her eyes closed. “Great and impossible things.”
“Terrible things?” I asked, hating how my conscience was tapping itself on my shoulder.
“All magic can be used for the great and for the terrible.” The Crone opened her eyes. “The outcome is always in the hands of those who wield it, and I have never used it in the way you fear on anyone who wasn’t deserving of it.”
I stared at her, knowing that wasn’t an exact confirmation that Zayne’s feather wouldn’t be used for something incredibly evil, but I either had to take her word on it or hand the vial back to her, find another way to even the playing field with Zayne. The latter could take too long. I may never find it.
“Okay,” I said. This was probably something I was going to have to account for once I received judgment, but I would do anything for Zayne. Just like he’d done anything for me. “I will bring Zayne to you.”
“Good.” She reached for the wineglass.
“But just so you know,” I said, waiting until her attention returned to me. “If you harm him in any way, I will kill you. You won’t even have a chance to use your magic against me. It will happen before you even realize it.”
The Crone took a slow drink. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
“So am I,” Tony said. “Because this was getting superawkward.”