It snorted impatiently, releasing a cloud of breath from each wide nostril. You will need a witch, of course, and whatever ingredients the magic requires as a conduit. I suppose I should warn you the host’s body probably won’t endure the extraction, even if you do succeed, the kelpie added.
That wasn’t an option. I stood there, my jaw clenched as I considered a new possibility. “What if he could borrow someone else’s strength? Would that guarantee his survival?”
The kelpie’s voice filled with speculation. I suppose that could work. Magic is unpredictable.
I said nothing, and the creature began to retreat. Its massive hooves crushed ice and mud, and to my ears, the sound it made was like the crunch of a hundred bones.
“How many people have you killed?” I asked suddenly. The kelpie halted and turned its long head back to me. Its milky eyes latched onto my face as if it could actually see me.
Why would one count grains of sand on a beach? the creature questioned. That is how it would feel keeping count of my meals.
Hearing this, I felt my power coil around me. The kelpie continued toward the water, flicking its tail like a mocking wave.
“Fortuna,” Laurie said, a note of rare caution in his voice. He must’ve seen something in my posture that hinted at what I was thinking. I hesitated, and that single pause was long enough for the kelpie to slip away, vanishing beneath the black water. I watched the ripples disappear, too. Laurie’s voice reached me through the haze again.
“You have the spell. The werewolf is waiting. Let’s go,” he said. Telling myself he was right, I nodded and turned.
But as I walked away from the river, I wondered if the choice I’d just made would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I tucked the memory away as Finn stepped out of the darkness and stopped at my side.
The brand-new bond between us flared, reacting to our proximity—the bond we’d forged to save Finn’s life once the demon had been ripped out. Even now, hours later, thinking about the exorcism made me wince. Savannah’s chants and the demon’s screams still echoed in my ears.
It had taken us hours to extract that parasite from Finn’s body.
After speaking to the kelpie, Laurie and I immediately returned home. Savannah went out to fetch the ingredients for the spell I gave her. Once she returned, all of us formed a circle around Finn—me, Laurie, Savannah, Collith, and Lyari. Savannah drew the werewolf’s blood and began to recite the Words.
His big frame jerked like he was being electrified. The lights flickered like they would in a horror movie. A line of foam filled Finn’s mouth. Twice, I almost told Savannah she should stop, just for a few seconds to let Finn breathe. But the necromancer had warned us that once she started the spell, she couldn’t break the chant or we’d have to go back to the beginning.
Her voice went on and on. The demon’s scream pierced my ears and the wind shoved at me. I fought to stay focused on Finn. This was taking too long. The demon would destroy Finn’s body on its way out, leaving my friend’s soul with nowhere to go but the afterlife.
Not an option, I thought again.
She needed more power.
Rushing over to Savannah, I peered over her shoulder and added my voice to hers. I saw her twitch in surprise, and I realized she hadn’t known I could do magic. That conversation would have to wait. I kept my eyes on the Words; they were easier to interpret with Savannah saying them a split second before I did.
We’d only been chanting for a few seconds when the demonic scream cut short. Moving so fast that my eyes couldn’t follow, Finn flew upright. Though I faltered, Savannah was relentless, and she was the reason I was able to continue. We’d barely said more than seven Words when Finn’s stomach lurched, and then a black, tar-like substance expelled from his mouth and splattered across the floor. Still we chanted.
Once he’d gotten all of the revolting liquid out, Finn sat there for a moment, staring at me. After another moment, he tipped face-first onto the concrete. He didn’t get back up. He didn’t stir at all, in fact.
Savannah finally fell silent.
Following her lead, I trailed off, too. I stared at Finn and waited, but he just drowned in a pool of his own blood.
“Is he breathing?” I asked, glancing desperately toward the faeries in the room.
My gaze happened to skim over Collith at the same moment he looked up. Our gazes caught and held. “Yes, but his lungs will give out soon,” he said.
He didn’t sugarcoat it or offer false hope, which I appreciated. Was this what the honest version of Collith was like?
Dismissing my irrelevant line of thinking, I looked back down at the werewolf. He was dying, there was no denying it. If I didn’t act, Finn would never see what else life had to offer him. I heard echoes of those questions I’d asked the kelpie. What if he could borrow someone else’s strength? Would that guarantee his survival?
I suppose that could work.
Remembering those words, I made my choice. Attempting to save Finn with magic was better than letting him slip away. I sat on the floor beside him, reaching over the chalk boundary for his hand.
“Repeat after me,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the waver in my voice. “Finn, we need to make the Blood Vow. But to do that, you have to stay awake, okay?”
Somehow, the werewolf heard me. He nodded, and I pulled out Dad’s pocketknife again. Seconds later, I clasped our bloody hands together and began a different spell. Finn’s sticky lips parted, and he croaked his words.
It worked. Against all odds, it worked.
The instant I felt our connection, magic sparking like a fallen power line, I refocused on saving Finn’s life. I grabbed the thread between me and Gil, along with one I found inside myself, and threw them around the new bond. It was fainter than it should’ve been, flickering in and out.
Take our strength, I instructed the connection, knowing some of it was Finn’s psyche. He’d hear the alpha in my voice, and the werewolf would react instinctively. Light streamed from me and Gil, flowing into Finn.
When I opened my eyes again, he had fully regained consciousness, and his wounds were already closing.
Realizing that I still hadn’t answered Belanor’s question, I tucked this memory away, too.
How did you save the host? the Seelie King had asked. But now Savannah was appearing on my other side, and he’d never get an answer. We had Belanor where we wanted him. I was ready to get this over with.
Savannah had been standing in a corner where none of the light reached, hiding her from sight. She held her spellbook with white-tipped fingers, and the kelpie’s scrap of paper rested on top of the pages.
“If you won’t tell us what your spell is supposed to do,” I said to Belanor, imitating the affable tone he’d used earlier, “then maybe your host will.”
My meaning was clear, especially with a witch standing next to me—we were going to do an exorcism on him. Not only would it save Belanor, and possibly restore the brother Laurie had once loved, but the pain of the spell would be torture for him. The odds were high that he’d give up the name of his master to make it stop.
The sound of Belanor’s laughter startled everyone in the basement.
“You think I’m possessed?” he said. “I am no puppet, dancing on someone’s strings. I am a king, you insignificant flea!”