Page 73 of Kat Bethel

Tears trekked down my cheeks and my fingers shook.

Do it.

The word got stuck on the tip of my tongue and refused to leave.

Don’t. Think this through.

I had to. It was the only way to make things right.

I’m sorry.

“Lu–” His shadows poured into my mouth to silence me, and one of his tendrils wrapped around my bloody palm when I went to press it to the altar.

“I don’t know what you think you are doing,” he snarled in my ear. “But it’s not happening.”

Did he really think silencing me would make this spell stop? Hadn’t he learned anything? Intention was what mattered. Words were just focus.

My wrist screamed, as I fought him to get my hand down onto the symbols I’d drawn on the altar. Just a little further.

Was he even really trying? How much effort was it really taking for him? I was giving my all.

His shadows went deeper down my throat, not like last time. This time it triggered my gag reflex, like he was trying to get me to purge pills or something. I retched and heaved, but there wasn’t anything in my stomach to expel. He released me.

“You are going to calm down and talk to me.” He wasn’t even panting, like knocking me on my ass had been nothing.

I held in the ‘fuck you’ knowing that he was baiting me. Because if I said that, the entire spell would be ruined, and I had no reason to think he’d let me start it again.

Instead, I coughed and focused on breathing. A few minutes later, I slumped forward.

“Are you done with your fit?” Irritation made his voice rumble in a way that made me quiver. He tried to kick the altar over, but his foot went through it like he was nothing more than the shadow he was.

My eyes grew wide and anger boiled my insides.Was I done with my fit? Mine?

This asshole.

He turned away, taking a breath as if to calm down, and I took my chance.

“Lux,” my voice came out in a raspy whisper. I slammed my bloody palm to the elderwood.

He turned toward me, but it was too late. With my free hand, I lifted a stiff middle finger. “Go fuck yourself.”

White light burned my retinas.

I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands, but it didn’t help. My skin was on fire. I screamed, unprepared for the pain.

For a long moment of agony, everything seared until I was convinced that I was in a cooking pot, as the blood in my very veins boiled.

It seeped deeper until I could swear Abiel was being ripped out of my bones. It made everything inside throb like an infected tooth.

When it finally stopped, I found myself pressing my chest to the ground as if I’d been trying to retreat into Mother Earth.

I hadn’t realized how used to the chill, which hadn’t left me since I’d stepped into Dudleytown, I’d become. Now it was painfully absent.

I guess it worked.

Why did that make me want to sob?

You know why.