Page 159

Story: A Strange Hymn

Somehow, he saved me, and in the process, our magic unified—ourbondunified. At least, that’s the best theory I have at the moment.

To test it out, I lift my arm and try to use my borrowed magic to levitate the vase of flowers next to the bed. Other than vibrating a little, it does nothing.

Okay, maybe I’m wrong.

“Not even out of bed and my wily little cherub is already exploiting her side of the bond.”

The man himself appears at the threshold of our room, leaning against the door. He’s wearing a Def Leppard shirt, leather pants, and his shit-kicking boots, his white-blond hair tied back in a little ponytail.

My favorite outfit.

At the sight of him, my body blooms with excitement. “Des—we’rebonded.”

His entire face breaks into a smile. “We are.”

I touch my abdomen. “And you healed me.” Everything about me thrums with life. I feel new and powerful in the most exquisite way. “How did you do it?”

Temper? Had she healed me and fixed our bond in the process? I didn’t suspect she could do such a thing.

“I have my ways.”

Des pushes off the wall, coming over to my side. I touch the side of his face, and he leans his cheek into my hand, closing his eyes to savor it.

“What happened?”

“While I fought my father, you battled the Green Man.”

“The Thief of Souls…” I murmur. Even now, the thought of him sends a shiver through me.

He’s still out there.

And Des’s father… “But I thought your father—”

“Was dead?” he finishes for me. His expression darkens. “So did I.” Des’s eyes grow distant.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Licking his considerable wounds, I imagine,” the Bargainer says.

Whatever happened between father and son, it’s plain enough to see that Des won this round. It’s also plain to see his victory gives him no joy.

He works his jaw. “Wherever he is, one thing’s clear: he’s in league with the Thief of Souls.”

Just hearing the Thief’s name turns my attention back to my immediate situation.

The knife wound to my gut. All that flesh the Thief ripped into when he dragged his blade up my stomach. The chill that set in as my blood exited my body…

I remember Des demanding I live. I still feel the phantom fingers of his magic trying to bar me from death.

But it didn’t work. I remember that. I felt it when his magic released me.

And yet here I am—alive.

My gaze cuts to my bracelet. All that stares back at me is my bare forearm.

For eight years, I wore it, and now it’s gone.

I run my hand over my wrist. “Where is it?”