Page 8 of Ivy & Bone

Mona had paid the ultimate price. And now, Prue would use the very same book to bring her back. Her throat knotted with emotion as the memories of that awful day came flooding back.

The book hadn’t been easy to steal. It had been spelled, warded to protect the village from any further harm. Prue had had to call upon the Triple Goddess Herself to grant her power to break the enchantment. She knew without a doubt if she hadn’t been blessed with the Maiden’s power, she never would’ve been powerful enough to steal it.

Power had always belonged to Mona. She would have made the perfect Maiden. Hope crept through the anxiety wriggling in Prue’s gut, and she clung to it. I’ll bring you back, Mona. Everything will be right again.

The wards on the book were still intact, thank the Goddess. Otherwise it would’ve burst open and tried to devour Prue alive. She hefted the massive grimoire in her hands and dumped it unceremoniously in the center of the pentagram. Even when she turned her back on it, she still felt a presence watching her, as if the book did indeed possess eyes.

Suppressing a shiver, Prue opened the Donati grimoire, which belonged to her own family and was much less threatening, and found the page she’d marked. After reading over the conditions and ensuring she’d done everything correctly so far, she withdrew the sack of pomegranate seeds. Her eyes closed, and her hands hovered over the sack.

“Incantare,” Prue whispered. Her third eye blinked open, and a burst of power flared to life in her chest. Vines emerged from the ground, a sign of her grace coming to life from the power inside her. They coiled at her feet like serpents seeking their master. The bag of seeds hummed in her hand. When she poured a few into her palm, they felt warm to the touch, and a golden glow surrounded them.

They were ready.

Prue sprinkled the seeds along the edges of the pentagram until only one remained. She returned to her ingredients and found a long, gold chain. She pressed it against the final pomegranate seed, closed her eyes, and whispered the spell.

“Hoc semen fascinare,

Ligabis ad librum,

Et factori intus contento.”

A roar burst from the Book of Eyes, and Prue jumped with a yelp. The ground quivered, and dust rained from the ceiling. Prue sucked in a sharp breath, her skin prickling with awareness. Her third eye remained open and waiting, and the otherworldly presence of her magic was still unnerving. Even after six months of being the coven’s Maiden, she still wasn’t accustomed to all this power.

Her hand shook as she opened her fist to find the pomegranate seed encased in a waxy film and welded to the gold chain. It now resembled a small ruby instead of a fruit seed. It shone in the candlelight, gleaming like a jewel.

Preserved forever in her enchantment, this seed was now bound to all the others. As long as Prue wore this around her neck, the magic of the summoning spell would be contained. Her fingers still trembled as she clasped the chain around her throat. The seed settled comfortably against her collarbone.

Goddess, she was really doing this. Her heart thundered in anticipation, and her palms felt sweaty and clammy. From outside, a faint howl pierced the air. Urgency flared in her chest. She was out of time. The ceremony had already begun, and the sounds of the drifting spirits echoed from the village square.

Was Mona there now? Prue wondered how the people were reacting. How her mother was reacting. A small, guilty part of her regretted not being there for Polina. This would be so hard for her . . .

It’ll all be set right again soon, Prue told herself. Whatever grief Polina was enduring tonight would be nothing compared to the joy of seeing her daughter alive and whole once more.

“Goddess above, grant me power,” Prue murmured. The hairs on her arms stood up in response, and a whisper of assent brushed the back of her neck. She shivered. It took her a long moment to gather her strength, to summon the courage she needed to proceed with the final step. Her breathing turned ragged, and she wiped her sweaty palms along her dirt-smeared skirt. With slow steps, she approached the pentagram and clutched the pomegranate necklace in both hands.

“God of the Underworld, I summon you,” she said. Her voice was loud and clear, and she was grateful her words didn’t come out as a croak.

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Prue held her breath, and even the air itself seemed to stop and wait. No whispers. No cries from the spirits on the other side. Nothing but empty stillness.

Then, the Book of Eyes started screaming. Prue gritted her teeth against the shrill sound grating against her ears, her eyes watering as the painful memories of her sister’s death came rushing through her. When the souls of Acheron had been unleashed, the book had screamed then, too. The sound brought an onslaught of grief and agony slicing through Prue’s chest, but she forced herself to remain upright, to keep holding onto the seed hanging around her neck. Her fingernails dug into her palm as she clutched it tighter.

I will not let go, she told herself. I will be strong.

The earth cracked, and more vines snaked along the ground from the opening. They crawled forward, coating the floor until all Prue could see were those wretched green leaves, as if an explosion of plant growth had taken over the crypt.

Dust floated in the air, surrounding the Book of Eyes. The particles swirled, forming a small funnel cloud around the grimoire. It spun and spun with vicious intensity until Prue’s eyes stung, and she had to shut them. Then, a violent white light burst from within the book, searing and excruciating. Tears streamed down Prue’s face from the force of it, so stark compared to the faint candlelight she was accustomed to.

When she was ready to sink to her knees—to keel over and weep from the raw, brutal power coursing through the air—the light finally faded, receding back inside the Book of Eyes. The screaming stopped, leaving Prue’s ears throbbing. She gasped for breath, trying to stifle the flow of tears, but once they started, she couldn’t stop them. Her chest heaved with unrestrained sobs, but she kept her eyes pinned on the center of the pentagram where the dust still swirled.

When the particles finally fell like a curtain, they revealed a figure contained within the pentagram. Prue’s breath lodged itself in her throat as she laid eyes on the god of the Underworld.

He was a huge, hulking figure, and—Goddess above, he was completely naked. Before she could stop herself, Prue’s eyes landed on his cock, lengthy and unrestrained and just there in all its glory. Then, she snapped her attention to something else. Anything else. Strange swirls were inked on half of his muscular body, from his face and neck, all the way down to his bare feet. Oddly enough, the tattoos only covered the left half of his body. They stopped right in the middle as if the artist had been interrupted before finishing. At a distance, the markings almost resembled vines, which made Prue’s heart stutter in fear. Vines were her grace. Her specialty. Why did the god of the Underworld have them tattooed all over his body?

The man’s hair was silver, save for a single stripe of black on the left side. Two black ram horns protruded from his temples. His eyes were a luminous silver, two glowing orbs that bore into hers as if he could see into her very soul.

His expression contorted with fury. He bared his teeth, looking every bit like the demon Prue knew him to be. “Witch,” he spat, his voice a deep growl. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

BOUND

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