Which only left my circle between destruction and us.
The explosion did have one good side effect though—it had blasted away her covering spell. We could see the bitch now. Aside from the puckered and ugly scar down her cheek, she really could have been an older version of me. No wonder the hone-onna had attacked me.
She strode toward me, her fingers moving at speed as she wove another spell. I had no idea what it was, but it looked and felt damnably nasty.
My gaze dropped, and that was when I saw the thick leash of red and black spell threads attached to her wrist.
That, Gabe said heavily, will take some undoing. I’m not sure we have the time.
We have to try.
Yes. He paused. We need dual attention. I can spell, but you’ll have to keep an eye on what’s happening.
Before I could reply, she unleashed her spell. It hit my circle like a hammer, and it was obvious she intended to smash her way through my spell just as she had Monty’s.
The intertwined threads of the circle gave ground to the blow and then rebuffed it. The force of both reverberated through my body and my brain, and for an instant, everything blurred.
I sucked in air and swiped at the moisture dribbling over my lashes. And yet despite the deep desire to avoid the brutal resonance of another blow, I didn’t detach myself from the circle. The sheer strength of that first attack very much confirmed my earlier suspicion. I would have to push more energy into it before this fight was over.
Magic surged again, this time from behind. The hone-onna was back and joining in on the fun, even if unwillingly. Her blow sent another shudder through me, and I stumbled several steps before catching my balance again.
We had to break the goddamn leash.
The echoes of the spirit’s attack had barely eased when the witch cast another. The bending in my circle was deeper this time, but it nevertheless repelled the would-be destroyer and remained intact.
But for how long?
Gabe?
Drop to the ground, he said. Call on the earth to reinforce you if you need. I’ll see what I can do about that leash.
I dropped onto my knees, placed the knives on the ground in front of me, then quickly grabbed a bottle of holy water and poured it in a rough circle. If my circle fell, the holy water circle might be the only thing standing between destruction and me.
Gabe began to spell. Again, I had no idea what it was, but the threads of magic that formed in front of me were complex and multilayered. The witch screamed, but this time, it held a note of … not fear, but certainly consternation. She knew what the spell was; knew what we were now attempting.
The force of the attacks heightened. My body shook and shuddered under every blow, but I kept my bloody gaze on the leash, watching, waiting, for something to happen as the strength of Gabe’s spell increased.
The first thread in my circle gave way. The force of it rebounded through me, and I gasped, doubling over briefly.
I must see! Gabe shouted, the order echoing through every part of me.
My lungs were burning, my heart screaming, and my head felt ready to explode. I thrust my fingers deep into the soil, drawing on the strength of the earth—not to bolster the circle but rather me. If I didn't hang on, we wouldn’t win. Monty was still spelling behind us, the ritual words filling the air with power. He hadn’t even begun the spell that would permanently shatter the altar.
As the deep, wild warmth of the earth’s magic flooded my system, my vision cleared, and I opened my eyes, staring resolutely at the witch. Just for an instant, her eyes widened, though I doubted it was fear. She was too far lost in darkness to ever fear someone like me.
Another thread in my circle snapped.
I didn’t close my eyes. Didn’t react. I just concentrated on the witch, on the bloody black threads that bound her to the creature who screamed and spelled behind us.
Gabe’s magic climbed toward a peak. As another spell line collapsed on my circle, he unleashed it.
For an instant, nothing happened.
Then the witch screamed again, and the thread around her wrist began to burn. One thread disintegrated, then another, then another. Hope shot through me. It was working. It was goddamn working …
The witch produced a knife, sliced into her opposite wrist, and began to spell.
Blood magic.
Another thread in the leash holding the hone-onna at bay disappeared, but it was happening far too slowly. If she finished that blood spell, we were done. I knew that. More importantly, Gabe knew that.
We had one choice. One hope.
We sucked in a breath and then scooped up my silver knife and cast one of the very first spells they’d taught us in school—a simple spell to transport an object.
We wrapped it around the knife, then, with a faint prayer to any god that might be listening, I punched a hole through my protection circle, and we cast the spell.
The knife tore from my grasp, sped through the hole, and arrowed toward the witch. She was so wrapped up in her own spell that she didn’t sense the knife’s approach until the very last moment. She threw up her hand—the hand with the leash attached—as if to ward off the knife and protect her heart, but that had never been our target.
With one quick, brutal blow, the magic-enhanced silver knife sliced through flesh and muscle and bone even as it fused blood vessels.
She couldn’t bleed out. Not if we wanted to get rid of the hone-onna.
The detached limb dropped inelegantly to the ground. For an instant, the witch didn’t seem to notice, and her spelling didn’t falter.
But with the leash no longer attached to a viable limb, the red and black threads withered and died. With them went any control the witch had over her creature.
The hone-onna screamed. This time, it wasn’t anger; it was anticipation.
The sound must have cut through the witch’s concentration, because her spell faltered. Her gaze snapped to the hand lying on the ground and then rose to mine. “Well played, little witch.”
Her voice was calm. Accepting. Everything I hadn’t been expecting.
She closed her eyes and waited. But not for long. The hone-onna hit her, tore into her, giving her no chance and no hope. She sucked the witch’s life away even as she tore her apart. Then, as her soul rose from the bloody remnants of her flesh, the hone-onna consumed that as well.
A brutal end. A fitting end.
I closed the gap in my protective circle, then sat back on my heels and waited. For several minutes, the hone-onna didn’t move.
Then she stirred—something I felt through my connection with the earth rather than saw.
“You help free.” Her harsh voice rang with a mix of surprise and appreciation. “I hold deal. I leave this place, return to the city.”
And with that, she was gone.
From this forest, from the area, from the reservation.
Behind me, Monty’s magic peaked, and the altar crashed to the ground, shattering into a hundred different pieces, never to be reformed or reused.
Against all the odds, we’d not only survived but succeeded.
Chapter Fourteen
What happened after that was all a bit of a blur. I remember finding my spell stones and tucking them safely into the backpack. I remember the two of us stumbling back through the forest, my arm around Monty’s waist and his around mine in an effort to keep us both upright.
I remember voices, and being picked up. Strong arms holding me close, the scent of musk and man filling my nostrils and warming my heart. Then nothing but the oblivion of sleep.