Page 44 of The Lies We Conjure
“Dude, pulling power out of the stars, the sun,andthe ocean is so badass,” Wren muses.
Blood Magic (Red Magic)
The Cerise Clan is Blood magic in all its lustful force—
“Lustful?Lustful?” Wren crows. “A Blood witch totally authored this book.”
I shush her but a grin still plays at my lips because she’s probably right.
Hot to the touch, easy to stain, it leaves a mark. Blood magicdrains and replenishes. It burns and heals. Rampant and unforgiving, it’s impossible to escape.
“Yeah, they totally wrote this,” Wren announces.
Blood witches like the Cerises use their own blood to let magic, sewing spells with a few drops, smoke to flame. But when they’re given someone else’s blood to use, the spells are different—instead of being let out, they’re let in, which allows their magic to heal or hurt, control, or cut loose whomever has knowingly—or unwittingly—given them access. Control over another person can be achieved when a drop of the victim’s blood is ingested by the Blood witch. Control then lasts up to twelve weeks.
Traditionally, the Cerise Clan oaths its heir with a horizontal line inked through the grouping of vertical lines Blood witches have tattooed on their inner forearms on the first Blood Moon of the witch’s thirteenth year.
“Awww, Evander went all bananas on Hex because he didn’t want us to become meat puppets for the next three months,” Wren practically swoons and bats me on the arm. “What a gentleman.”
Death Magic (Black Magic)
The Blackgate family is one of the lone surviving clans of Death Line witches in the world. Its proponents amplify their power and their spells through ritual sacrifice, often collecting physical relics of offerings and wearing them on their person. It is believed the historically prevalent mythology of both zombies and vampires stem from Death magic spellwork inappropriately viewed by the non-magical population.
Four Lines scholars have long tied Death magic and Blood magic in origin, offering theories of a single common magical ancestor that split a millennium ago as the two lines of magic evolved. The Blackgates and Cerises deny this connection.
Traditionally, the Blackgate Clan oaths its heir with a knife-pointXscrawled over the heart. TheXis made to heal without magical intervention, leaving an unmistakable scar behind.
My mind pages back to Marsyas’s elaborate black pearl necklace—was there a scar beneath it? Likely. Meanwhile, the first thing Wren does when we finish reading is brandish her wrist at me, the rabbit’s foot bracelet swinging in an exaggerated swoop.
“I guess you’re right about these things. They’re actually charged with death force or whatever and not just some sort of mage equivalent of a Scarlet Letter.” Then, in a low but very enthusiastic voice, she whispers, “Like,look over here, me in black, wearing zombie body parts! I’m a Death witch if you couldn’t tell.”
I shush her again and try to reread the section, but she’s not done.
“You know when I was doing my character research one of the meanings of ‘Kaysa’ was ‘pure torture’ and I thought, huh, that’s weird, surely they didn’t know about that when they named her, but I bet you they fucking did it on purpose.”
“Do I even want to know what Lavinia means?” I ask, flipping the page.
“You’re the mother of the Roman people. Totally cool in comparison.”
I scan for anything else, Wren does too. There’s nothing, at least not immediately.
When we finish, Wren is quiet a long moment, one bright white incisor biting the faded ruins of her once-perfect lipstick. “I know you like to joke about me watching too much TV, but given the circumstances you can’t fault me here…”
“Yes?” I arch an eyebrow.
Her voice drops, low and punctuated by her large amber eyes. “You don’t think we—they—reanimate the dead or anything, right? Like, necromancers? What else would inspire zombies and vampires?”
“I mean, you heard the skunk story. Sounds like it.”
“But,” Wren starts, “I think if we could do that, they would’ve had us interrogate Ursula. Ask her if she knows her killer’s name? Or who would want to kill her and why? All the answers her soul didn’t spill.”
She’s right, except…
“They didn’t do that because they immediately thought we were guilty. Or that Marsyas was. They wouldn’t trustusto reanimate her, especially after her ‘soul’s truth’ was out. They didn’t want us to touch her, they probably thought that we’d manipulate her somehow.”
My sister sighs. “Good point. Also: ew.”
Wren plunges her head into her hands, elbows propped on the table to support the weight of it. Her fingers ruffle her bangs, scrunching them up, out of their perfection yet again. She stifles a yawn. “Now what?”
