by Tania Hutley
Xander must be bound with the same spell as I am, or I’m sure he’d do or say something. Instead, he’s probably being forced to watch helplessly.
“It’s almost a shame that Jeqabeel’s transformation is going to rip you apart and remake you,” my uncle murmurs. “You’ll die screaming before Jeqabeel drinks the blood of your lover.” He motions to Xander. “The mundane will have the honor of being Jeqabeel’s first meal once the demon has achieved his true form. Your lover will get to watch you die, but his death will be just as painful as yours. I’ll make sure of it.”
I reach deep inside myself, desperately clutching at my magic. Trying with everything I’ve got to wrench it free and use it to strike my uncle down.
Uncle Ray gives me a small smug smile as though he knows exactly what I’m attempting. He shakes his head in a pitying gesture. Then he leans forward and licks my ear. His tongue feels raspy, like the tongue of a dog.
“Weak,” he whispers. “Pathetic.”
My magic is dead inside me. I can’t move to draw any of my blood, and even if I could release it, both sides would be easily overpowered by the demon’s dark magic.
As devastating as it is to admit, my uncle is right.
Twenty-Seven
Once again, I’m taken to the council chambers while I’m helpless and vulnerable, propped up on the back seat of my uncle’s car. This time Xander is next to me, just as helpless. After a while, I find I can move my eyes a little, but not enough to see his face.
The only thing that’s working is my brain.
Uncle Ray.
I can’t believe it was him the whole time. He stole the bone and invited Jeqabeel inside him. He thinks he’s using the demon to achieve his own ambitions, but does he seriously think the demon won’t kill him along with everyone else when it gets free?
When we arrive, my uncle gets out of the car, then leans in to talk to the driver. “When I’m ready for them, I’ll bring them in myself,” he tells the man. Then he straightens, brushes clean hands down his woolen overcoat, and starts up the stairs. Dread runs down my spine.
The Blood Moon ceremony is designed to reaffirm and strengthen the bonds between the council members. To give the council the ability to share their magic and do far more powerful magic together than they could ever do alone. United, they can make sure the magical world is kept secret, though it’s in plain sight. If a witch is exposed, the council have the power to reverse the damage. Everyone trusts them to protect the community.
Because it’s a super blood moon, the ceremony will be even more powerful than usual.
Individually, the council members are powerful witches. Bound by blood ties during the ceremony, their power is multiplied and magnified.
Could Uncle Ray control everyone in our community through the council bonds?
I don’t even want to consider that possibility.
After what seems like a long time, I find I can move my face enough that I manage to see Xander. He’s staring back at me, his eyes wide. I wish there was some way we could communicate. But although I’m getting a little more movement, it’s not enough to be able to talk. Yet. I think the spell that’s frozen us is gradually wearing off.
Not nearly fast enough.
The car doors open. I expect my uncle to come back out of the building, but he doesn’t. Instead, I feel myself being tugged out of the car. My uncle doesn’t need men to haul us around. His magic is so strong, he can control us like puppets. Xander and I jerk up the stairs and through the door. I think my own legs are propelling me forward, though I can’t feel them or steer myself.
It’s a terrifying feeling, this complete lack of control. Uncle Ray could bash our brains out on the council building’s marble entrance or drop us down the stairs, and there’s not a thing we could do to save ourselves. I can’t even make a sound.
My uncle drags us into the circular room where the Veritas invaded my brain just days ago. The full, red moon is positioned almost perfectly over the round skylight that’s three full stories above me. Moonlight is the room’s only source of illumination. It gives everything a red glow.
The council members are in their allotted places. Each is standing in one of the small circles carved into the floor, with the mysterious ninth circle still empty.
The spaces where Amber, Mireya, and Sylvia used to stand are now taken by other witches I don’t recognize. There are eight witches in total, and my uncle is one of them. Magnus, Aunt Therese, Dallas, and the Veritas are all in their places, so we were wrong about Jeqabeel wanting to kill them to take their power. Has he killed others instead? Or is the ceremony going to give him the power he needs?
The ceremony has started, that much is clear. All eight witches are chanting in a haunting, single voice: one sound that’s somehow created from all eight mouths. Each witch holds an identical empty glass goblet. In the center of their circle is a wide, squat bowl on a pedestal. The bowl contains a thick, dark liquid.
Magic coats the eight witches in an opaque layer, like a bubble of clear lightning. Their eyes are all pure white, like the Veritas’s were when she questioned me. Nobody turns toward us, and they show no sign of noticing we’re here. I don’t think they can see us.
Xander and I are forced to a stop a little way from the circle, in full view of Uncle Ray. My uncle’s eyes are pure white like the rest of them, but unlike the others, there’s a creepy smile on his face.
Now we’re so close, it hits me that Uncle Ray’s wearing a thick black overcoat though the night’s warm. The Unseen said he had to be touching the bone for the demon to control him. And sure enough, there’s a bulge in the line of his coat. He must be carrying it.
Still chanting, the council members raise their goblets in perfect unison, as though they’re connected to each other. My mother told me about this ceremony. It looks like every council member has already given blood into the bowl in the middle, and it’s been topped up with wine. Next, they’ll dip their cups in and all sip the blood and wine mixture at once, drinking it to share their power. It’s the final part of the Blood Moon ceremony.
When they drink it, the entire council will be vulnerable. I can’t let that happen.
I need to find a way to get my uncle to release his hold on us, or to use my magic to disrupt the ceremony. But my magic needs blood and I have no way to give it any without being able to move. How ironic, when a bowl of the council’s blood is right in front of me.
If I could manage to knock it over, drain away the blood, maybe it would stop the ceremony. The council members wouldn’t end up bonded to the demon, and it wouldn’t be able to control them.
All I have to do is get my body to move.
But though the bowl of blood and wine is only feet away, it may as well be on the other side of the moon. There’s no way I can move any part of my body close enough to make it count.
Chanting and moving in perfect synchronicity, the council members lean forward and dip their goblets into the bowl.
I strain against my uncle’s magic, using all my muscle strength to attempt to get my arms and legs to move. My limbs are starting to awaken. I can curl my fingers a little and move my toes. It’s not nearly enough. I can’t even reach my fingernails to my palm to draw blood.
When I try to scream, all that comes out is a soft croak. Dammit, why can’t the council hear me anyway? Surely they can read my uncle’s evil intent? Can’t they see that creepy smile he’s wearing?
But the council members put the goblets to their mouths.
It seems like they’re moving in slow motion. I’m straining so hard to move, I might bust an organ.
There’s not a thing I can do to stop them as, in unison, all the council members sip the blood.
They swallow.
Nothing happens.
The moment seems to drag out. I feel like I’m stuck in between heartbeats. I’m so terrified of what my uncle might do that I can’t bear to look, and I can’t close my eyes.
Uncle Ray dips his
hand into his goblet and coats his fingers with blood. The other council members stand as though frozen while he uses the blood to draw a complicated rune onto his forehead.
Eight goblets drop at once.
The goblets smash against the stone floor with a crash loud enough that I’d jump back if I could. Thick glass fragments skitter across the floor. Their arms now limp at their sides, the council members’ eyes are still white. All except my uncle’s.
Uncle Ray reaches into his overcoat and yanks out a bone. Holding it in his blood-covered hand, he draws runes on it, muttering words I can’t hear. Then he holds it up, his arm outstretched in triumph. The blood slicked over the bone glints in the red moonlight and a black, smoky substance oozes out of it.
Whatever the substance is, it makes my skin prickle and my gut roil. The feeling of power in this room was already strong, but now there’s a dark, terrible tang weaving through it. Its wrongness fills my senses.
The stench of the demon fills my nostrils as the thick black smoke coalesces into a menacing shape. Staring at the creature that’s forming, ice runs down my spine.
It’s Jeqabeel. Its form is still shadowy, not yet solid. Still, it fills me with sick dread. The drawing we saw was accurate. Its body is thickset and its clawed hands hang down to its thighs. Its jackal’s eyes seem to glow, even with no substance to them.
I barely have time to gape at it before all the council members except my uncle collapse to the ground, as though flattened by an invisible hand. They lie limp and unmoving. I can only assume they’re not dead, despite how it looks. My uncle said he wants them to grovel at his feet. Even if Jeqabeel is draining their magic through the shared link, my uncle will want them alive.
At least, I hope so.
A surge of power burns through my veins. The last of the council bonds have broken. My magic is free. Its tangled strands push against me, begging me to release them, to use their power.
The ritual is complete and there’s no doubt in my mind as to what’s just happened. The council wasn’t ready for Jeqabeel and now the demon owns them. Through my uncle, it’s stolen their power. That’s why the bindings holding my magic have dissolved.
If Uncle Ray wasn’t powerful enough before, now he has everything he wanted.
Ray turns his gaze onto me. His eyes hold a savage joy and madness.
“Your moment has come, Sapphira.” Uncle Ray’s voice booms from his stout frame, more powerful than I’ve ever heard it. “Jeqabeel has emerged from his prison. All he needs to make him whole is your flesh.”
I can move my arms now. Big deal. All it means is that I can hold them in front of me, pretending I can somehow protect myself from what’s about to happen.
The demon towers above me. I shrink back as it reaches for me.
I need my magic. I need blood, and lots of it. I need a way to kill an ancient demon that’s at least a thousand times more powerful than I am.
I have nothing.
Jeqabeel reaches down, one black hand stretched out to envelop me.
Pain erupts inside me. My body is stretching. Growing. Being ripped apart.
The world becomes a bright, fiery place of pain. Nothing else exists. All I can do is scream.
Twenty-Eight
The pain stops.
I collapse to the floor, so suddenly freed from the demon’s grip that my legs don’t get a chance to support me. Glass from the broken goblets crunches under me, and I feel the sharp shards digging into my flesh, scratching shallow wounds. My magic pushes against me, even a small amount of blood making it shudder for release.
Looking up blearily, I see Xander stumbling away from my uncle, his legs still stiff and clumsy, the bone clutched to his chest. He’s managed to steal it from Uncle Ray.
The demon’s form is shrinking, black smoke funneling back into the bone.
Jeqabeel must be drawing its power through my uncle and his link to the council, and when Uncle Ray isn’t holding the bone, the demon can’t sustain itself. For a moment, hope lifts inside my chest, and I think we might have a chance.
And then my uncle roars.
His eyes glow as he thrusts a hand at Xander. Animal magic crackles around him. Xander flies across the room and smashes hard against the wall. Incredibly, when he lands, the bone is still in his hand. But he looks like he’s been knocked out, and his head bleeding.
Uncle Ray strides toward him. I have one chance to do something. No more than a few seconds to act. This is my last opportunity to save everyone. To save Xander.
My hand closes around one of the thick shards of glass from a broken goblet.
I don’t know how to draw runes and the only spells I remember are harmless ones I learned in childhood. All I have is the uncontrolled magic inside me, with nothing to help direct or enhance it. Its power is raw, but if I feed it enough blood, it’s guaranteed to create chaos.
There’s only one question. How much blood is enough? But I already know what the answer has to be.
All of it.
I drive the glass into the brachial artery in my elbow. Blood spurts out with a force that shocks me. It hits my chest, soaking me in hot liquid.
My magic surges, hot and insistent. With this much blood, it’s almost impossible to contain, but I struggle to hold it in anyway.
I’ll only have one chance at this. I need to release the maximum amount of power at once, in one burst of magic, if I’m going to have any chance at all.
Time slows.
My heart pumps again and more blood floods from the wound.
Uncle Ray stops in front of Xander. In the library, not even bullets would stop him. But he was wearing Jeqabeel’s head and carrying the bone. He hadn’t seemed human then, not like he does now.
The demon’s essence is still hanging in the air, a menacing black shape that hovers over Xander, slowly getting smaller as it oozes back into the bone.
Another heartbeat. Another gush of blood.
Power burns through my body, tangled threads of lightning searching for a way out. I barely register how much it hurts.
I’m getting light headed, weakening faster than I would have believed possible. Falling toward death as though from a great height. My magic is barely restrained. As blood soaks my clothing and puddles under me, my power surges against my tenuous control, frantic to break free.
My blood feeds it, making it stronger than anything I’ve ever felt or imagined.
I’ll only have one chance to release the magic. I’m dying fast. But if I can stop the demon and my uncle, my death won’t be wasted.
Two enemies.
Two types of magic.
Somehow, I need to direct them both.
I’m cold. I can’t feel my legs, so my body must be shutting down. But instead of being scary, this knowledge helps me focus my mind.
I’m in a dark tunnel that’s slowly narrowing. All I can feel is the pain of holding my magic in. The only things I can see are my uncle and the bone, barely highlighted in the red glow of the moon.
I have one goal. A single-minded purpose.
Destroy my enemies.
I let my magic go.
In the darkness of my tunnel, the two clusters of magic are brilliant. Their strands are so bright, they hurt my eyes and overpower my senses. I am the magic. I have no mind or body. All that exists is the power. And now, totally absorbed in the strength of what I’ve unleashed, I can see how to keep the two strands of my magic from twisting together. It takes every scrap of what’s left of my strength to keep them apart as my two magics launch toward my enemies.
My uncle’s eyes glow bright. He blasts his own power at mine. When his magic and mine slam together, the collision is as hot as a bomb blast. It sears my flesh.
The magic my uncle stole from his victims is threaded inside his own, but it’s far weaker than it was in the library and I can see gaps in it. The demon drank deeply from his power to escape the bone. It’s all but drained him. And his magic has never been as strong as mine, let
alone my mother’s.
My animal magic forces its way through the gaps in my uncle’s magic and pours itself into him. It turns him inside out.
Literally.
The bloody spectacle of seeing his insides turned out is so horrifying, I almost miss my earth magic pouring into the bone. It crumbles the bone, transforming it into gray dust.
The black smoke that had been a demon’s shape lets out a terrifying sound. Not a scream, but a roar of rage so loud that it shakes the room and sends me sprawling.
The smoke swirls, suddenly homeless, but not destroyed. It dives into the nearest thing that’s still whole.
The demon’s insubstantial black form disappears into Xander. The noxious black smoke forces its way in through his nose, eyes and mouth.
“No!” With the last of my strength, I fight to turn my magic against that shadow. But it’s too late. Xander has sucked in the last of the demon’s form.
Stars fill my vision. I feel very light and completely numb. I’m panting and breathless. With my blood draining so fast, I’m not getting enough oxygen. A moment ago, hard stone and shards of glass were digging into me. Now I can’t feel my body.
I’ve just killed Xander instead of saving him, but all at once it doesn’t seem to matter.
My panting slows. The black tunnel of my vision narrows. My pain has slipped away. I feel almost peaceful.
There’s nothing else I can do now. I have only one task left.
It’s time to die.
Twenty-Nine
I feel light and airy, like I’m floating.
Is this heaven?
No. My arm hurts. In fact, everything hurts, but my arm most of all.
I can’t be dead. But how am I alive?
There’s something on my lips and coating my tongue. The awful, thick coppery taste of blood. I’m choking on it. Am I back in the Unseen’s basement, drowning in it?
I swallow and gag, struggling to force the stuff away. My vision is blurry and I can’t seem to focus. All I can see is a bright silvery-red light.