Page 107
Story: Bespelled
Shit—he isn’t serious, is he?
I rush after him. “Wait. Wait a goddess-damned minute,” I say, grabbing him by the wrist. “So long as you have a helmet for me, I’ll ride on your death machine.”
It does, after all, beat staying here among my enemies.
The drive is terrifying.
Memnon lives a few miles south of the coven, and the main road from Henbane to his house is especially winding.
Despite Memnon’s magic, which wraps around our waists and holds me in place, I cling to Memnon like my life depends on it. Down our bond, I can feel his amusement and the glow of his affection.
I’m glad he’s enjoying this. That makesoneof us.
When we arrive at Memnon’s house, I nearly weep with relief. My limbs feel boneless from tensing for so long.
I slide off the motorcycle and remove the helmet Memnon did end up having with him.
Above the tree line, the sun is setting, but it’s not the sky that takes my breath away. Outside the sorcerer’s house, dozens of lanterns float above us, the flickering flames within them giving the place a ghoulish, magical ambiance.
Using a pinch of magic, Memnon grabs my bags from the tiny storage compartment on his stolen death bike?—
Steel horse, he corrects me.
—and he comes up to my side.
“Did you do this for me?” I ask, pointing to the lanterns.
His eyes flick over my face, then he nods.
“Why?” I ask.
“I wanted to bring a little of the magic of your coven here,” he admits.
I frown as my heart skips a little.
Movement at the corner of my eye has me tearing my attention away from the house.
Relief washes over me when I see my familiar loping toward us. I get down on one knee and catch Nero in my arms, the weight of him nearly bowling me backward.
“I missed you,” I whisper, holding him tightly as he rubs his head against the side of mine.
It’s unnatural to be so far from my familiar. All day, there was this persistent tug at the back of my mind, like I forgot an important memory. I’ve been so used to that feeling that I didn’t realize until now that it was because Nero and I were parted.
“I have something for you,” I say.
My panther watches me, probably hopeful it’s food. Instead, I pull out the cord.
“This is warded to protect you so you’ll be safe while you’re out hunting.” Honestly, I should’ve done this much sooner.
Nero’s ears flick back, and I think…I think he’s insulted.
“Itisn’ta collar. It’s a protective amulet.”
He lets out a small, displeased sound.
Grumpy bastard.
“It’s for your safety,” I say.
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