Page 47 of The Heartless One
He heard the softest moan from overhead, from the attic, where his magic had not yet reached. He pulled the shadows back, making sure they didn’t invade the home of that ghost.
“I won’t change everything,” he called out, certain that the ghost was listening to him. “There is much we will use this home for, though.”
A cold gust of wind trailed down his spine, as though someone had tried to grab on to him and then realized he was not someone they could simply grab.
“I am a god.” Elric narrowed his eyes, following the path of a small silver orb of light that moved just out of reach. “You will not banish me from this home, nor will you banish the coven of witches who will join me. If you stay out of our way, I will not usher you into the realm of the dead that you have been so adamantly avoiding. Do we have a deal?”
Again, a hesitation from the spirit before it rushed up the stairs and back into the attic. He’d leave it alone up there. The spirit had been here much longer than him, after all.
Turning, he surveyed the work he had done. Everything was nearly perfect. If anyone walked into this dark home with the warm wooden floors and deep-colored wallpaper, they would know it was a home for witches.
One final touch. He allowed his shadows to stretch into the basement and raise up an altar where his witches could all worship. An altar covered in runes of power. His shadows transformed the stone into black obsidian that gleamed in the meager light. And because he was their benevolent god, he also added indentations in the floor where they would kneel before it for their sacrifices, just so that they would be more comfortable instead of kneeling on sharp stones.
“There,” he muttered before he tugged hard on his connection with Jessamine.
It was no longer a thread of darkness between them, but a rope that he could see with his mind’s eye if he looked hard enough. Thick as his wrist, it connected them no matter how far away he was.
And then Elric waited. Because he knew his gravesinger well. Jessamine had never been able to deny him when he called for her.
In a mere half hour, he met the four witches and Hugo at the end of the dirt path leading into the house. Jessamine had her arms crossed over her chest, and those pretty dark eyes were flashing with curiosity.
“What have you done, Deathless One?” she asked.
He gestured toward the entire coven and then bowed long and low. “My coven could not stay in such a small home. Elissa’s home is too well-known, and besides, there are certain places that are more safe than hiding in plain sight.”
“This looks like a crumbling hovel.”
“I assure you, I have prepared everything inside for you, my gravesinger. You deserve the world, and I am only here to lay it at your feet.”
He could hear the sharp intake of breath from Agnes, and knew that he had won points with those words. Perhaps she didn’t know their connection yet, but Agnes would soon see that he was more tied to his gravesinger than he had ever been to any other witch.
Jessamine was everything to him. His reason for being started and ended with her.
Shaking her head with a wry grin, Jessamine strolled past him and hooked her fingers in the front of his shirt, practically dragging him to the front door as she advanced up the steps.
“Come on, Nyx, let’s see what decorating skills a god has.”
Her black cat suddenly appeared, twining around his legs and almost tripping him before the familiar slipped into the house ahead of them. He could almost hear the excitement as Nyx let out a meow that sounded like a battle cry and thundered up the steps to the attic.
“A creature that small shouldn’t be able to make so much noise,” he muttered.
“A cat is a cat.”
“It’s a familiar.”
“A familiar that is a cat,” she corrected before releasing his shirt.
Elric smoothed it down as they both walked into the house, and he anxiously studied her features to see if she liked what he had done. At the smile on her face, it appeared he’d done well.
“Look at you,” she said quietly, turning in a circle and then stepping into the first room. “First you build a coven, and then you build us a home.”
He caught Sybil’s gaze as the dark witch walked into the house with them. And for once, all he saw in her gaze was approval.
“It’s long past time that I respected the coven who worships me,” he murmured, before tugging Jessamine into his arms. “Now, no one will be able to touch us.”
Jessamine had forgotten what it felt like to have a home. In all that they had done, all that she had suffered, the memories of having a safe place to rest her head had simply filtered out of her mind. She’d been so confident that she’d never forget her past, but somehow… she had. In one moment, she was sure she hadn’t changed that much, and then she was reminded in an instant that she had.
Safety in these walls meant she could fully relax. She didn’t have to sleep with one ear listening or try to pay attention to the meaning of the stillness of silence. Her sleep here was more restful than she had felt in ages. Her head had hit the pillow, and she hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. She just woke up again feeling more like herself.
