Whatever the spell is, I can at least see it. And if I can see it, I can undo it.
A declaration that isn’t really comforting me right now.
It wasn’t comforting me, either, especially given neither of us knew anything about blood magic. That was the sort of information they gave to those who went on to study at the witch university—of which there was only one in Australia—and Belle and I had run long before we’d become eligible for that.
And I was never eligible, given I’m a lowly Sarr. She paused. Everyone is now farther back. I’m not sure whether this is good news or not, but the trembling in the earth hasn’t worsened.
Maybe he just wants to frighten us rather than cause any real damage.
Maybe, she said. Be careful.
It’s my middle name. I reached out and carefully touched the final thread. It shimmered in response and the stinging peaked briefly then faded, but the unclean feel of the whole thread became stronger. I shivered and forced myself to concentrate, even as sweat trickled down the side of my face. The final thread’s fibers slowly became visible—the completion line was indeed intertwined with the threads of a secondary spell. I carefully pulled on the lightest of the three spell lines that made up this final thread, holding it as I murmured a spell to isolate it without breaking the connection to the other two.
The words on the wall shimmered and then became visible. But even as they did, the fiber in my hand began to disintegrate and the other two began to pulse.
The trap had been sprung.
I swore and quickly read the note to Belle. Vengeance is best given time and served cold. Let them sleep in the knowledge that they are safe, because it will make the moment when my hand rips out their hearts—as they ripped out mine—taste all that much sweeter.
To that end, I cannot allow any interference. Your death is not personal, Ms. Grace. It is merely a precaution.
Even as my gaze swept across that last word, a wave of power knocked me off my feet, and both the floor and the wall began to shake and buckle.
I scrambled upright, quickly uttering the words of an umbrella spell that would hopefully protect me from the worse of the explosion as I dove for the desk rather than the door and the glass walkway beyond it. I had no idea if the former would, in any way, provide additional protection, but the latter surely wouldn’t.
Even as I leaped, the wall exploded, filling the air with dust and huge chunks of rocks. The force of it was so damn strong it not only sent me tumbling forward, but down into blackness.
Chapter Six
Waking was a somewhat slow and confused process. It came in a series of stops and starts that were filled with voices and dust, the former echoing in my head as sharply as fear, and the latter catching in my throat and making breathing somewhat difficult. There were what felt like boulders pinning me down, but no waves of pain. My body felt bruised rather than broken, and if that were the case and not a symptom of shock, then I’d been extraordinarily lucky.
As consciousness sharpened, Belle’s voice became clearer. Don’t move, she said. The desk and that last-minute spell appear to have protected you from the worst of the explosion, but there are still some bits of wall pinning the lower part of your legs. They’re in the process of moving them now.
They?
Emergency service guys. No one else is allowed inside the building, as the reception area has been declared unstable.
Meaning the force of the explosion had been even worse than it had seemed. I finally opened my eyes, but couldn’t see much more than the somewhat battered underside of the desk. And I couldn’t turn my head to look at anything else because there was a brace around my neck.
The entire walkway came down in vast sheets, Belle continued, her tone grim. If you’d been underneath it, it would have sliced you to pieces.
Which suggests he expected me to run that way rather than toward the desk.
Yes, otherwise the force of the explosion would have also demolished the desk.
He’s going to be pissed when he realizes I didn’t die in his carefully planned trap. One of the lumps covering my left leg was moved, and pain flared. It still wasn’t anywhere near the agony that came with broken bones, but I nevertheless growled at whoever was doing it.
“Sorry,” a male voice said. “But the pain relief should kick in any minute now.”
“Any minute isn’t fast enough.” It came out croaky—no surprise given my throat was dry and coated with dust.
We’ll need to seriously ramp up both the protection spells around the café, Belle said, as well as the ones we’re wearing.
Yes. Another piece of rubble was moved, but the drugs were obviously beginning to work because this time I barely felt it.
“Right,” the same man said. “We’re going to slide you onto a board and get you out of here. Ready?”
“Not really, but I’d rather not stay here.”