Page 31 of Seared Fates
“I’ve been looking for something.” Her dark gaze drops to my messenger bag and the spellbook tucked inside. “For that.”
My gaze shoots to the exit behind me, then back to the crazy blood mage.
I don’t want the bloody thing, but Emma’s the last person who should have it. Swallowing, I reach for a lie. But anything I’d say gets stuck behind my teeth.
“Listen.” She pushes herself up. “You want to get rid of that pesky spellbook, I can tell. Has it sunk its claws into your mind yet?”
I swallow, and despite being frozen, my thoughts are frantic.
“No?” She tuts. “Well, it will, Kai. That’s your name, right,Kai?”
Sweat prickles at my forehead.
“It’ll sink a claw into your mind—your magic, because I can sense it in you—and rot will spread from the inside out. Drivingyou mad. Or…” She reaches out a hand. “I can save you from all that messiness.”
I can’t even twitch a finger. Each inhale is a fight, and every exhale a struggle.
Then, like she’s revealing a magic trick, Emma lifts her palm with a dramatic flair, presenting the bleeding tip of her pointer finger. But instead of running down her skin, the blood rises, like a taut thread pulled upward, forming a wobbling red bead that hovers above her short nails.
‘Move! Just move! Fucking do something,’ I scream on the inside. But on the outside, I’m a statue.
“Oh, this? Don’t you worry. Just a little spell to keep you compliant. You see,Kai, there are many things I didn’t want to happen. Jace, for example. Who put me between a vampire and his mate, which,” she chuckles as if we’re two friends having a chat, “really was not ideal.”
The walls constrict as Emma closes the distance, her shoes hitting the floor like a clock ticking down. I beg my body to move, to run, even crawl away.
“And it looks like I’m involved with another vampire’s mate. Mondays, am I right?” She throws the question over her shoulder with a scoff, and I realise for the first time Emma isn’t alone.
Air lodges in my throat when I spot the small, unmoving figure slumped in the corner. Even under the harsh buzz of fluorescents, the person is swallowed by shadows. They’re naked, but long hair, like strips of wet seaweed, hangs over their face and obscures their body. From here it’s difficult to make out if they’re breathing, but… something tells me they’re not.
“Let's be friendly about this,” Emma says, voice sweet enough to rot teeth. “You give me the spellbook, and I give you something in return.” She uses her fingers to push my braids away from my face. I try to pull back, but my efforts areworthless. “How about this scar?” Her smile stretches. “I can get rid of it for you.”
I muster as much hate through my gaze as possible.
“Or I saw you speaking with that vampire, Vidar. He doesn’t return your feelings, does he? Pity.” She comes closer, whispering. “But it doesn’t have to stay that way, Kai. I can make him love you. Do what Jace tried to do with Golden. But he wasweak.” Her glare intensifies, voice solidifying, “and I’m anything but weak.”
The body in the corner jerks, and a scream expands in my chest.
Its limbs shudder, and—with my feet nailed to the ground—I’m forced to watch as the body drags itself up like a puppet on invisible strings.
Any thought in my head dies as instincts take over, adrenaline pumping into my muscles to run away. But as the corpse—a woman—shambles closer, my legs ache from the strain of being unable to move.
“C’mon, Kai. I’m not asking for much, am I?” Emma’s voice is a distant thing as the woman creeps nearer. She doesn’t make a sound, no huff of breath or groan of pain. I have the ridiculous urge to shut my eyes and cover my ears and pretend this isn't happening.
Her skin is sickly pale with a waxy sheen, sagging like an old handbag. But as she hobbles into the light, my heart breaks for this poor girl, even as my stomach turns. Strange, jagged words are carved so deeply into her flesh that dull-pink muscle and white bone peek through. Black thread is stitched around her arms, snaking up to her elbows, then winds around her neck like a noose. More thread twists across her chest, down her stomach, all the way to her toes.
A tear runs down my cheek.
Emma’s dark eyes gleam. “I could force you to give it to me…”
The red bead grows spikes, like the head of a morningstar, and my hand lurches on its own, plunging into my messenger bag. I strain against the presence pushing me, pressure building until I’m sure something inside me bursts. But when my fingers close around the warm leather spine and I’m forced to pull out the spellbook and offer it to Emma, I know there’s no hope.
“H-...” Words fill my mouth like needles, each one raking against soft tissue as I’m forced to spit them out. “Ha-have t-this I-I… give it w-wil…lingly.”
Emma darts forward, but hisses when her fingers graze the leather and snaps back, her skin singed.
I hope it fucking hurts.
“Tricky,” she tuts. “Tricky book, and books can be so tricky, can’t they?” Emma doesn’t turn from me, but directs the question to the girl at her shoulder, whose head hangs low.