Page 80 of Night of Death and Flowers

“Tell me, Ari.”

“They just keep saying to prepare.”

I grind my teeth. “You cannot listen to them. I used my Sight magic on Azkiel. He’s telling the truth. They’re evil, and they want you dead.”

She shakes her head. “Azkiel manipulated you, forcing you to see what he wanted you to see. You’ve grown too fond of him.”

“Sight magic doesn’t work like that, and I can assure you, I have not grown fond of him.”

Her worried eyes find mine. “Drake told me you two were almost kissing outside the house.”

“That will never happen again. It’s the magic,” I explain, the powers thrumming into a deep rumble. “Lay down for a moment,” I offer as she rocks backward. “I’ll be done soon.”

“You can’t work like this. Your arms are covered in cuts.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

She raises her brows. “You’re not, and it’s not just the cuts. This magic takes a toll.” She glances out over the riverbed, then takes a few steps back, finding a clear spot under a tree only a few feet from me. “I wonder how Father managed it. I hold only two powers, yet I feel as if I am going to explode.”

I lower my voice to a whisper. “We both hold an ethereal power from the gods. I think they somehow enhance the other powers inside of us. It’s why the magic we’ve siphoned from the fallen affects us so much. It must be.”

“Perhaps.” She gazes off, lost in thought, then rests her head on her arm. “I’ll lie down just for a minute.”

“Drake’s keeping watch,” I assure her, and she closes her eyes.

Once I’ve done a quick sweep of the area, I kneel beside the river, my fingers buried in the thick mud in search of the root.

I delve further into the mud and water; the tips of my hair floating against the surface as I ensure the rest of me stays on dry ground.

I huff a breath, sweat beading my brows as I hit a rock. If only I can dislodge this damned stone.

Pain radiates through my hand as something sharp jabs under my nail. I curse under my breath, pulling away, then kick the ground as if it is purposely thwarting my plans. I resume my search with new vigor, my arms aching as the wind gushes against me, sweeping over the slices in the sleeves of my dress, stinging the wounds beneath.

Finally, I pull out the roots of the plant, then tug them onto the bank. It takes several minutes to ground them into a paste along with the Death’s Bell flowers in a stone bowl we brought from the house.

I groan when the thick paste turns purple, instead of the paler beige needed.

The morning lightens a shade, and the silhouettes of the trees and shadows of ravens on their branches surround me. Small creatures watch me beyond the babbling waters as I kneel against the mossy mattress.

Something moves in my periphery, and my eyes dart to the underbrush just as a black tail with blue markings disappears into a hollow log. A hiss sounds behind me, followed by a rustle of dead leaves while a shadow viper slithers closer.

I turn my head slowly, my heart pounding as adrenaline courses through me. The snake’s eyes lock on me, and I look at Ari. She’s still sleeping. Oh, gods. Out of all the things I may die from, it cannot be this.

The small, deadly creature rises on its long body, standing a foot tall, poised to attack. I brace myself to run, hoping I might get away before it strikes. But, before I can stand, the creature inches closer, and I freeze.

Spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, my gaze snaps to the forest where I glimpse white robes and a blond braid. As the viper launches at me, realization dawns on me that someone must be controlling the creature.

My scream is quickly silenced as I am pulled under.

The murky depths envelop me as the dead hands curl around my neck and arms, constrained by the fingers of the Black Sea’s spirits.

Time stretches painfully as I wrestle against the dead, every movement draining the last reserves of my energy. My body releases a surge of shadows that twist and turn through the water, ensnaring the spirits and binding their limbs. But there are too many.

The spirits writhe around me, their frigid, rotting hands grip my arms and legs, dragging me deeper until my lips part. I kick my legs, my shadows a dizzying mess when I hit the riverbed. Bubbles leave my mouth as my lungs ache under the pressure, my eyes bulging.

I barely notice when the dead release me, and I float upward. My eyes close against the permeating darkness of the dark river, memories of my loved ones spin in my mind: discovering our first book of spells with Ari when I was nine, stolen from Father’s library, playing in the meadow with Cecilia and Eliana, then hiding behind trees as we played hide and seek, and the afternoons of walking through the woods with Drake, talking for hours.

Arms constrict my waist and water whooshes around my torso as I’m pulled out the water.

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