The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(44)
Author: Kim Harrison

But Felix had gone still in waiting, his feet pale next to the stark blackness of the hem of his pants. They looked cold and too soft for all the people he’d trod upon. They reminded me of Al’s hands outside his gloves, vulnerable and revealing, always hidden.

“Keep him still,” I warned as I leaned across the space to touch the rod to the underside of his arches and made him jump. I wondered if he’d have any regret when his soul returned. I knew lots of people who felt no regret for the people they’d hurt, and they had souls.

Leaning back, I caught sight of Trent’s tense worry. He regretted. He had guilt. I’d seen him more than once in the early hours of a sunless morning, sitting beside the bed, waiting for me to wake and tell him with a smile that he wasn’t a bad person.

The choices we make, I thought as I cracked the hummingbird egg with my thumbnail before dropping it into a ceramic dish. Landon hadn’t said what to use, and ceramic was as neutral as glass. Damn it, I didn’t even know if I was doing this right. Jaw clenched, I used the sap-soiled stylus to dab the egg white of binding on the black scarf.

Immediately the line I was holding seemed to refine itself, the energy feeling more potent as it narrowed to my desires. I was doing it right, and that scared me even more. The phantom drums in my head pounded, and I shivered, wishing to remain hidden even as the chant called attention to me.

“Is it supposed to be glowing like that?” Jenks whispered, shushed by Trent.

“Show me your palms, please,” I whispered, head down as the spell wavered over my skin as if looking for someone to soak into.

“Is that my soul?” Felix said, voice high as he wiggled.

“Soon,” I breathed. The magic filled me, slowed my muscles. “Show me your hands.”

He did, and I dabbed them, my heart pounding in time with the drums. Ta na shay rose through me, even as I desperately wanted to hide.

Blood, I thought, fear slicing through the drum-borne lethargy. I needed a drop of undead blood. My head snapped up, and Jenks darted back, shocked at my worried expression. “Ah, I need a drop of his blood,” I said, flicking a look at Felix.

“My blood?” Felix snarled, and I drew back as Cormel moved to get between us.

“Felix,” he coaxed, his thick fingers looking odd against Felix’s young body as he forced him to stay down. “It’s for your soul. Just a drop so it can find you. Let me. From your thumb,” he suggested, and I nodded. I didn’t want to risk contaminating the connection on his palms, but his thumb should be okay. I guess. God help me do this right, I thought as I rummaged in my bag for a finger stick. I didn’t know what was on that knife Cormel had used to cut Felix’s gag. One by one, Felix was losing his bonds.

I pushed the finger stick across the glass table to Cormel. He picked it up, clearly already knowing how it worked. The snap of it opening was familiar, and Felix held out his bound hands, never taking his mistrustful gaze from Cormel as he pricked his thumb. Felix hissed as the master vampire retreated, careful to not get any blood on himself.

Buddy began to snore, immune to everything now that he was home and his stomach was full. Bis was creeping down the wall beside the door, and Cormel frowned, noticing him when a nail scraped.

This is for Ivy, I thought as I got to my feet. Reaching across the distance, I touched the wand to Felix’s thumb before pressing it to the top of the silk pentagram. My knees wobbled as the energy flow sharpened to a crystalline hum. The spell was ready. I only had to finish it.

But the beauty of the lines, clouded until I found this very moment, was hard to look past, and I blinked a tear away, shaken. I hadn’t seen them like this since losing the mystics. The reminder hurt. I could see evidence of their passage all around me, but they couldn’t see me. Perhaps the punishment was fitting.

“Trent, stop this,” Jenks protested, and I bowed my head, shaky hand raised to tell Cormel I wasn’t backing out of it. Breath held to hide the heartache of what I’d lost, I touched the rod to Felix’s forehead.

“Close your eyes,” I said, and Felix did. His lips closed over his fangs, and the blackness in his eyes was hidden. He looked normal, frightened, and hopeful to the point of pain. He exhaled and didn’t breathe again, and I felt the magic beginning to rise in the room, prickling along my thumb until I rubbed it out. By the prickling of my thumb . . .

“Trent . . . ,” Jenks whined, his wings making an odd sound.

“It’s perfect,” I said again, breathless and disoriented as I turned back to the charm, confident Felix wouldn’t move for fear of losing his coming soul. “I’m fine,” I echoed, breathing in time with the drums. Why are my fingertips tingling?

“Cormel?” Felix called, eyes opening and panicked. “Why am I bound!”

“Peace,” Cormel said, and Felix dropped back with a whimper.

I shivered as Cormel whispered the word. I could feel Trent behind me as I rolled the black cloth into a cord and wove it through the Möbius strip. As each inch scraped through, it was as if another layer of dross peeled from the lines and my connection deepened. My head hung, and I dropped the metal band to clank against the table. Dizzy with knowing, I shook the salt out. I didn’t think my eyes were open. I couldn’t tell—sparkles blocked my vision.

“You okay, Rache?”

I blinked fast. It was Jenks. I could tell because his dust was a frightened black, and the rest of the sparkles were a white so pure they were painful.

“Fine,” I said, blinking again, and suddenly the sparkles were gone. It had just been the spilled salt on the table that I’d been looking at. “I’m fine.”

Oh God, everything was transparently sparkly, as if I was going to get a migraine. Black cloth in hand, I found Felix’s expression, hopeful and longing. “It may make you walk into the sun,” I warned, and Cormel stiffened.

“I don’t care,” he moaned. “Finish it!”

Someone was holding my elbow, and I shook as I covered the vampire with the shroud of finding. That same someone handed me a bottle, and I recognized Trent’s slim fingers as I stood and peeled the wax cover off.

“Stay with me, Rachel,” Trent said softly, drawing me back, and like a breath exhaled on a winter night, a haze pulled from the bottle as I wove it through the air over Felix, his soul remaining still as the bottle slipped away from around it.

“Cormel?” Felix whimpered, sounding like a lost child.