One Touch of Silver

by Elizabeth Cole

  “Stop supposing!” she said, nearly shouting. “And stop thinking. You have no right to think about me, especially not in such an…intimate context.”

  “I warned you the first night that I wasn’t actually a gentleman. I guess your husband was.”

  That statement made Silver see red. “Shut up! You don’t know anything! My husband was a bastard. He died botching a spell of dark magic, and nobody cried about it.”

  “Silver, I didn’t mean—”

  But now that she was talking, she had to get it out. “When we lived together, he never even touched me unless he was drunk. I hated every minute of it. I hate myself for ever thinking he loved me, because he didn’t. He just wanted to get his hands on the Salem family’s magical artifacts. I was just his way in, because I was stupid enough to believe his lies.” Her voice changed to a mocking tone. “You’re so smart, Silver. Your face is pretty, Silver. Let me fuck you, Silver.”

  Coll’s eyes darkened, but she was too upset to worry about what he thought of her life.

  “Once we got married, it was all different. He was barely home, which was fine with me, since I found out what he was really like fast enough. After I finally admitted what an idiot I’d been, I asked my father to help me start divorce proceedings, and I moved back home. My husband strung us along. It cost hundreds of dollars to hire the lawyers and they all told me that once I was divorced, no good man would want me. I should just endure it, and be a better wife.”

  “You didn’t listen.”

  “No. But by the time the divorce was nearly final, my husband had stolen several books and a few talismans he had no right to. He wanted to work a spell that would halt his aging.”

  “And?”

  “He succeeded,” Silver said with a sudden laugh that sounded ugly even to her. “He didn’t age a day past that. Someone found his body on the floor of a rented flat in Boston. He’d been burned from the inside out. The police ruled it an accidental death. All that mattered to me was that I’d never have to see his face again.”

  Coll took her free hand in his. He drew it to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Silver felt nerves all through her body wake up.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

  “Isn’t it sort of a gentlemanly thing to do? Kiss a lady’s hand?”

  “A hundred years ago, yes,” she gasped. She didn’t dare look at him yet.

  “I have to start somewhere.” He kissed her hand again. “If he didn’t appreciate you, Silver, he was a moron. I think he was scared of you.”

  “Of me?”

  “Yes. You’re smart and strong and brave and noble…and a woman. That terrifies some men, and they act like asses because of it. You’re worth so much more than that.”

  Hearing his words, Silver was having trouble breathing, in all honesty. But she got a hold of herself and put a cool expression on.

  “Well,” she said. “I’ll take your words under consideration—advice from a naked, cursed werewolf hiding out in South Jersey.”

  He laughed softly. “Do that. And you can continue with your task. I’m better now.”

  “Good. We don’t have all day,” she muttered. “I’ll finish as quickly as I can, and you just sit there, not thinking at all.”

  “Mmm, can’t promise that.”

  * * * *

  Silver managed to ink the rest of the symbols onto Coll without further embarrassment. Once it was done, Coll couldn’t put a shirt on, for risk of smudging all her careful work. So he simply sat near the wood stove, his back to the fire, with a wool blanket over most of his body. Piewicket was curled up on his lap. The cat was enjoying the warmth, and Silver quite frankly envied her pet. Though she’d mostly had bad experiences with men, she still dreamed of finding someone who would embody all the good things she’d heard about. Someone like Coll.

  But that was a fantasy. The practical Silver got the area ready for the actual spell, which she would conduct after sunset. She allowed plenty of time for the spellwork, knowing that actually cutting Coll would take more precision and more courage than just drawing on him.

  “Can I help with anything?” Coll asked, watching her.

  “No. Just stay warm. If you’re shivering, you’ll be too difficult to cut into.”

  “Sure thing, Dr. Salem,” he said. At least he could approach the night with a sense of humor. Silver worried that one or both of them would be dead before dawn.

  Shortly before darkness fell, they prepared to enter the ritual circle. Once they entered, neither could leave until the spell was done, so it was essential to have absolutely everything accounted for and in place.

  First, Silver tied Coll to the chair with some thin, tough rope he’d brought up from the basement. They had agreed it was for the best, since either the pain or possibly the curse itself might cause Coll to lash out, hurting Silver or ruining the spell. Tying him down was for Silver’s protection as well as his own.

  “Too tight?” she asked him worriedly, after securing him by wrists and ankles. “I don’t want it to be a tourniquet.”

  “It’s good. Don’t worry about me,” he said.

  “Once I begin the spell, I won’t be able to speak to you, or say anything that’s not part of the ritual,” she reminded him. “But I’ll try to pay attention to any signals you give. You can talk normally—that won’t affect anything.”

  He nodded in comprehension.

  “Don’t step outside the circle till I tell you you can,” Silver went on, thinking of all the things what could go horribly wrong. “And don’t move as I’m carving. Am I forgetting anything? I must be forgetting something.”

  “Hold my hand,” he said.

  She reached to hold his right hand, since he could no longer move freely. “What is it?” she asked, looking at him.

  His grey eyes caught hers and held her gaze. “Thank you, Silver. However it turns out. Even if it doesn’t work and I’m still cursed, thank you for trying.” He swallowed. “There’s a very short list of people in my corner. But you’re one of them.”

  Silver jerked her hand away to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Don’t get schmaltzy. You are paying me to put a knife in your back, after all.”

  He grinned. “You’ll do great.”

  She nodded, suddenly more afraid than ever. “Ok. Let’s get started.”

  The first part of the spell was easy enough, being similar to many other spells. Silver invoked the spirits and the elements, asking for their aid. She cast the magical boundary, which was marked out in the physical world by a chalk line all around the circle.

  She then recited her intention to end the curse on Collier Michael Dunne, and carefully repeated the words in the spellbook that should render Bahor vulnerable to the binding of Silver’s spell.

  And then there was nothing left to do but pick up the scalpel and approach Coll, who sat patiently in the middle of the circle, bound like a prisoner.

  Silver stepped up to him and gripped the blade tighter, her fingers aching with the strain. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring pain like that to Coll.

  “Don’t chicken out, Silver,” he growled. “I need you to do this. Only you. Remember, I’m stronger than I look.”

  She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. She laid the blade against his skin, but hesitated again. Dear God, I can’t do this, she thought.

  “You can do this,” Coll whispered. “You can. And however much you cut my flesh, the pain won’t even come close to what I’ve already felt. Please, Silver. I’m begging you.”

  That was enough. She took a deep breath and made the first cut. Blood welled up in a perfect little line.

  Collier didn’t even twitch.

  Silver swallowed, then continued with her ritual, carving the sacred symbols over the lines she so carefully traced before.

  As she worked, she whispered the casting, reading from the book as she went.

  This time, at least, there was no risk of Coll being turned on by her work. He w
as in pain. She could sense it, like an aura rolling off him. A low level pain for now, perhaps, but one that slowly built as she continued to cut into his flesh.

  When she reached the column of symbols she’d inked down his spine, she realized her mistake. These cuts would hurt far worse, due to the nerves along his backbone. God, how could she be so stupid! She froze, terrified to start that first symbol, just below the back of his neck.

  Coll turned his head just a fraction. “It’s all right, Silver. I’m not scared. Just do it, like the rest of the symbols.”

  He knew what she was thinking. Silver couldn’t respond, of course. The spell prevented her from speaking any errant word. But she put her fingers to her lips, kissed them, and laid the fingers on Coll’s cheek, trying to convey how sorry she was.

  He breathed out. “Do that every time, precious. It’ll help.”

  Relief filled her, knowing that he didn’t blame her for the hurt.

  And it did hurt. Tremendously. She could tell from the way his breathing changed, how tight his muscles became as he strained to hold still. Silver was amazed that he remained conscious, considering that his back was sliced to ribbons and rivulets of blood dripped down onto the floor. She took a step back for a moment to collect her thoughts. She blinked, seeing the shape of a wolf hovering around Coll. Somehow, his ability to shift must have been absorbing some of his physical pain. She prayed the wolf part of him wasn’t mad at her.

  She glanced at her watch. Less time had passed than she feared, but the spell still had to be completed by midnight. There was no time to waste.

  Carve, kiss, recite. Pause. Carve, kiss, recite. She fell into the rhythm of it, and before she knew it, she was kneeling on the floor, cutting the last few symbols into Coll’s lower back.

  He hadn’t said a word for the last several minutes, and his head lay across his arms. She hoped he wasn’t dying, but she couldn’t stop to ask.

  Right after she carved the last symbol, she kissed her fingers, reached round and laid her fingers on Coll’s chest, over his heart.

  She spoke the final part of the spell, intoning the Latin precisely. “So with this man’s blood pulled from his body, I pull this curse from his soul. Let him be free of it. Let the curse die on this darkest night in a dying season. Collier Michael Dunne is free of the curse of Bahor. I have made him pure and whole again. Let the curse fall into my hands, the hands of Clementine Lillian Noor Silver Yasmeen Salem Hagley. It will be mine to do with as I so wish, for it is in my power, and none may take it from me.”

  As she spoke the last words, Collier slumped in the chair, all the tension gone. He must have finally passed out, but Silver couldn’t lose her concentration at this crucial point.

  She put the scalpel on the floor and gestured precisely, mimicking the illustrations in the book. She clapped her hands once and drew them apart, as if playing cat’s cradle. As she did so, something shimmered around Coll. The candles around the circle flickered in an invisible wind.

  Silver watched in amazement as a mist began to coalesce between her and Coll. The mist was grey, tinged with a dirty red. As blood was being drawn out of the carved wounds, the curse itself was being pulled from Coll’s soul into the air, forced into physical form by Silver’s spell.

  From far away, she seemed to hear furious anguished screams. Bahor would know that its infernal bargain was being severed. Silver prayed to any listening deities that her banishment spell was still holding. She had to complete the spell before an angry demon appeared.

  The demonic spirit of the curse now hovered in front of her, manifesting as a shifting mass not more substantial than mist, yet alive with motion. Silver strained to find a pattern in the movement, then reminded herself that this was a trap, part of the demon’s defenses.

  Don’t get hypnotized, she told herself. She wrenched her gaze away, gasping in relief. She reached for a lead lined jar. She would force the malevolent power into the little prison and…

  Silver paused, listening. What words had she just heard?

  Let me serve you, mistress, the voiceless being whispered in her mind. I have power and it is at your command. Save me, mistress!

  How? she whispered back, though the words never left her mouth.

  By taking me into your service. Tell me your wishes, your deepest desires. I will make them reality.

  Silver couldn’t stop herself. The dream was always there, waiting for her to close her eyes.

  Silver closed her eyes, and in the darkness saw herself as she was truly meant to be: a beauty. A slim, silver beauty with cool eyes and a sleek body, her hair shimmering over slender limbs and a smooth stomach. Men hovered around her, eager to impress. She saw the admiration in their eyes, the desire for her. At last, she was the person she wanted to be.

  I can do this for you, mistress, the spirit promised. Just wish, and it will all come to pass. You’ll be thin, wealthy, sought after. You’ll never be alone, never without friends, never without a crowd dying to please you. Just speak your wish.

  Silver was transfixed by the voice. How could she have thought to control such a force? She was weak and it was strong.

  She opened her eyes, trying to banish the thoughts. But more images swirled up before her, becoming solid as reality. Lavish parties, beautiful people…all happy to be near her.

  A lone voice disrupted the vision. “Silver, can you hear me? Don’t listen to whatever he’s promising you.”

  Don’t listen, the subtle mist creature told her. I can give you everything you want.

  She instinctively stepped deeper into the vision swirling in the mist, and her foot knocked into something.

  The lead bottle.

  She was supposed to do something with that, but she couldn’t remember quite what.

  “Silver, pick it up. Finish the spell, precious. You’re the only one who can do it.”

  She saw someone past the mist. A man, sitting down. He seemed to be struggling to get up for some reason. She gave him a little smile. Once she made her bargain, that was exactly the sort of man she wanted.

  Excellent, the voice said. So you do have desires.

  Of course she did. Frustrated, thwarted desires, all because of her shyness and her fat, ugly body. Who ever wanted to hide away reading all day and all night if they could be at the center of things, loved and admired? Silver longed to taste the glamour of a life she’d never known.

  “Silver, sweetheart, get that thing out of your head. It doesn’t want to help you.”

  “Of course I do,” Bahor said, its familiar form appearing in front of her.

  Not real, she told herself. The image was only a projection. The real demon couldn’t get past her wards…could it?

  “That one was a waste of time,” it continued, looked over at the struggling Coll. “But you, you’re a sorceress just waiting in the wings, aren’t you?”

  Silver paused. Was she?

  “You can be anything,” Bahor promised. “Let’s make a bargain. Just tell me your name.”

  She’d been ignored and ridiculed long enough. Maybe this was the only way she’d be able to have what she wanted. She took a breath, ready to say her name.

  Then she heard a crashing, cracking sound. She looked over and saw a dark shape coming toward her.

  “Get away from her!” Bahor screamed out.

  But Coll already had his arms around her, and his mouth on hers, silencing any stray words Silver tried to speak.

  He’d kissed her once before, but not like this. Not when she was completely awake and terribly aware of him. She couldn’t speak, and didn’t want to. Coll’s kiss sent blood rushing through her veins, replacing all her visions with only one. Him.

  “Don’t say a word, precious,” Coll whispered as he ended the kiss. “You need to finish the spell. It’s almost midnight. Everything else can wait. You can make a bargain with this asshole any time. But now, just get him into that bottle. Are you listening?”

  She stared at Coll, seeing him clearly as the m
ist withdrew from them. How was he conscious, standing, speaking to her? Holding her? Kissing her?

  “Nod if you can hear me,” Coll said worriedly.

  She nodded once.

  “Thank God,” Coll said. “Now let’s get this spell done. I care about you too much to let you get tricked by the same devil who tricked me. Nod if you understand.”

  She nodded again. What did he mean, that he cared about her?

  “Where’s the bottle, precious?”

  Silver blinked, then looked down past Coll’s naked body to the floor at her feet. Where the hell did the bottle go?

  It had been right there. Silver scanned the whole ritual circle, a horrible feeling building up inside her.

  Then she heard Bahor laughing.

  “Found it!” the demon-shaped mist chimed out, pointing.

  There it was. Outside the chalked boundary of the ritual circle. One of them must have knocked it away during the confusion.

  Despair filled Silver. Neither Coll or she could cross the boundary, not without all the power of the unfinished spell dissipating. With Bahor now present in the circle too, they’d be at the demon’s mercy once the tenuous bonds of the spell were broken.

  “Silver, tell me what to do,” Coll said.

  She only shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. Coll couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t so much as stretch an arm across the border. And she couldn’t even tell him so, or tell him she was sorry, or how she felt every time she looked at him. So close, and to fail now…

  Bahor continued to laugh. “Oh, this is perfect! I win! I win you both, you stupid mortal meat! You think I’m going to let you go now? Oh no, I’ll rip you both apart and feast on your raw flesh and pull your souls from your bones! I’ll tell the story and—”

  An odd little clinking sound made the demon pause. “What’s that?”

  A small shadow emerged near the bottle. The candle flared up, illuminating Piewicket. The tiny calico had her claws out, and they hit the lead bottle with a clink.

  Silver had never been so happy to see the cat. All she had to do was ask Pie to bring the bottle…