Before Harper could ask what that meant, her attention was snagged by the white Toyota Prius that pulled up. Moments later, a willowy, leggy female hopped out. Her rich ruby red hair was tied back in a chic, hobo knot that was dotted with flowers—Harper seriously liked it. Inky blue eyes swept over them, stopping as they found Levi. She made a beeline for him.
Harper gave Knox a sideways glance. “I take it this is the incantor.” He only nodded.
As she came to a stop in front of them, Levi inclined his head. “Thanks for coming, Ella. I’m sure I don’t have to introduce my Primes, though I don’t think you’ve ever officially met them.”
“No, I haven’t,” confirmed Ella. She nodded respectfully at Harper and Knox. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
Harper smiled. “Likewise. This is Larkin, one of our sentinels.” After the two females exchanged nods, Harper added, “I know Levi’s consulted you many times in the past when we’ve had magickal trouble, so I just want to say thank you for all your help.”
“No thanks needed.” Ella looked at the house. “Levi tells me someone cast cleansing spells and possibly even a concealment spell here.”
“We don’t know whether it was an incantor or a dark practitioner,” said Knox. “Will you be able to unravel the spells either way?”
“I won’t be able to unravel a cleansing spell—they sort of bleach the air,” replied Ella. “There’s no way of undoing that. As for the containment spell? It’s possible that I’ll be able to untangle the threads. It won’t matter if it was an incantor or a dark practitioner; it will only depend on the complexity of the spell.”
“Then let’s go see how complex it is.” Knox took Harper’s hand as they all walked back into the house and then down to the basement. He watched as Ella strode straight to the wall where he’d earlier sensed the spell, as if she was drawn there. Her fingers moved along the wall, looking as if they were plucking at strings.
Finally, she turned to them. “You’re right; there’s a containment spell here. It was cast by a dark practitioner. A very talented one.” She skimmed her fingers over the wall, brow furrowing. “It’s not a typical enchantment.”
“In what sense?” asked Knox.
Her gaze cut to him. “It was boosted by another spell, so the two are tied together.”
Knox frowned. “What other spell?”
“Glamor. What you see there isn’t real. The wall is fake. I can still untangle the threads of the incantations, but it may take some time.”
“We can wait,” said Knox.
“All right. I’ll get started.”
Harper wasn’t really sure what she’d expected Ella to do, but there was no lighting of candles, no drawing of symbols, no calling on the natural elements. She simply stood there, plucking, snapping, untying, twisting, and unknotting “threads” that they weren’t able to see. This was the difference between incantors and practitioners. The latter were able to practice magick, but incantors were born to use it. The magick was part of them.
While they waited for Ella to finish, Larkin updated Harper and Knox on everything they’d missed during their vacation—sometimes telepathically, since speaking of lair business around outsiders simply wasn’t done, even if said outsider was untangling spells for them.
Keenan reappeared, exasperation lined into his face, and announced to Harper that her cousin badly needed a keeper. When Harper had asked if he was volu
nteering for the job, he’d flushed and adamantly stated, “Hell, no.” And he’d been a little too adamant. Harper had to wonder why the guy preferred to live in the land of denial. She was just about to telepathically ask Larkin what Keenan’s “little issue” was when Ella spoke.
“I have one last thread to snap. Everyone needs to back up.”
With the exception of Ella, they all moved to the center of the basement. Satisfied, she then turned back to the wall and tugged sharply on an invisible thread. Just like that, the fake wall disappeared, revealing a space that was roughly thirty-five square feet … that featured a small bare, iron prison cell. Taking up so little room, it was no more than a cage, really. Manacles hung from its walls. Blood and other bodily fluids stained its floor. Misery, despair, and pain seemed to hover in the air.
“Jesus,” breathed Levi. “A lot of people died here. And they’re severely pissed about it.”
Harper’s eyes shot to him. “Their souls are still here? They’re talking to you?”
“Not in the way that you think,” said Levi. “I don’t hear full sentences. Just snatches of what they want to say. Someone brought them here—someone who promised them drugs and sex. But they were chained. Starved. Brutalized.”
“They were brought here to feed the incorporeal,” Knox realized. “Maybe Alethea and the Horseman thought that putting the hosts through pain would somehow make the incorporeal strengthen quicker—maybe it did.” Or maybe the fuckers had done it for the sheer pleasure of it, he thought. Alethea had always had a mean streak.
Harper rubbed at her nape. “When Isaiah said that people were brought here but he never saw them leave, I had a feeling they were for the incorporeal. It makes sense that Alethea and the Horseman would choose rough areas as their hunting grounds. There are so many drug addicts, prostitutes, and other people who wouldn’t be missed.”
“So, basically, Alethea holed up here while she pretty much nursed the incorporeal back to full strength.” Larkin bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe she was also killed here. We speculated that she might have died in a basement.”
“If she did, her soul isn’t here,” said Levi.
Keenan frowned. “Why didn’t the practitioner cleanse the area? Why conceal it instead?”