Page 45 of A Touch of Brimstone

“I was born here,” he provided, putting me out of my misery. He placed the book on the table. “My mother was once a prisoner, before things changed. My father was given the option to raise me. He declined. I grew up here with Dominic and Helena.” It explained his seemingly fraternal relationship with Dominic.

“You chose to continue to live here as an adult?”

He was a man of few words, only offering another slight nod, or at least I took it to be a nod. It was such a minute movement, I wasn’t sure. But that was all he provided before returning to his book. I wanted to know more about his magic. Before I could ask, he gave me a subtle suggestion redirecting me to my work. Actually, not particularly subtle. His eyes flicked from his book to mine.

“You should work on that.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for debate or further questions.

Dominic attempted to slip into the room unnoticed, but he wasn’t someone who could easily evade drawing attention. Anand took his arrival as an opportunity to leave. Companion, my ass. He wasn’t even covert about it as he gave Dominic a “I did my job” look before leaving.

In silence, Dominic copied the spells I had found into the notebook. He scanned the findings, arranging several spells.

“Are you weaving a spell?”

He shook his head. “I can’t weave spells,” he provided in a tight voice. He really didn’t like sharing his limitations. Perhaps because he seemed to have so few, it was a reminder that he wasn’t omniscient. “I’m removing each spell individually. A weaver can make a single spell that could remove them all. It’s a power limited to just witches.”

He waited patiently as I finished up the final book then copied what I’d found to the notebook. After several minutes of analyzing the various spells, he changed the spells around and took my hand in his. His gentleness and the warmth of his fingers on mine was a direct contrast to the clinical detachment with which he studied the markings. Something hummed off him that I couldn’t quite place. Magic? Anger? Frustration? It definitely had hints of wrathful determination. It was quite apparent he didn’t enjoy this part of his job. He probably delighted in the hell storms, violence, and retribution parts.

Dominic explained he wanted to observe the sigils’ response to the spells, so we headed to the dungeon.

There wasn’t any response from the first three spells, not a hint of a glow from my finger and nothing from the sigils on the wall. The fourth created a halo of light over my finger, matching that on the wall. The glow pulsed at a defiant beat, and there was a noticeable fading of the markings on my finger and on the wall. Smoky incorporeal figures formed in the prisons for mere seconds before fading away. Then a torrent of magic trampled through the space; small cracks formed in the glass before it exploded in a rain of shards. Covering my face, I knew my arm would get the brunt of it, but I felt nothing but the heat of Dominic’s body in front of mine, the sound of shattered glass hitting the floor, and what I was sure was some against Dominic’s back.

My finger ached, but I didn’t feel any cuts. Nothing. Dominic didn’t show any signs of injury from the spray of glass against him.

“I was able to put up a protective wall,” he explained at my surprised expression. “I wasn’t sure I got it up in time. That was definitely unexpected.” He hooked his finger under my chin, roving over it and my neck, taking it in. Taking my hand in his, his fingers a gentle feather touch as they slid across my skin, he examined me for damage. A warm, unexpected feeling moved over me at his touch.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, surprised by the tenderness of his touch. When he released me, I couldn’t place the emotions that moved over his face, but there were hints of confusion and—perhaps disappointment. Was he surprised by his concern for me? I definitely was. His lips pressed into a tight line. He dropped my hand quickly and stepped back and studied the space where we’d seen a vestige of the inhabitants for a passing moment.

Preoccupied, Dominic seemed only vaguely aware of me as he made his way back to the spellbook room, leaving me trailing behind. He slowed at the sight of Helena in the library, resting back on the chaise, a book on her lap. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose chignon, and she was wearing a delicate-looking white maxi dress that exposed her arms and the magic-restricting manacles. I wasn’t sure if it was an act of acceptance or to serve as a reminder to her brother of his perceived cruelty.

There was a softness to her that belied any of the cruelty she’d exhibited before. She looked demure and innocuous. If this had been my first time meeting her, it would be hard for me to believe she was capable of cruelty. But there were still traces of something ominous and fierce in her eyes, refusing to leave despite her best effort. She was presenting a sheep, when the wolf within was rearing to attack.

That was the point. When anger, avowals of sibling hatred, and violence didn’t work, she tried another tactic. Dominic gave her a passing look before heading for the spellbook room, stopping with an exasperated sigh when she called his name.

Slipping past him, I was going to continue into the spellbook room, having had my fill of drama for the day.

“Luna, please stay,” she requested in a saccharine tone. Her stark change from before scared me more than if she’d attempted to strangle me again. I kept a wary eye on her approach.

“You’re not having success with undoing the spells, are you?” she surmised, looking at Dominic. His jaw clenched at her statement. “You won’t. The protection spell is reacting to your magic. A deflexio protection. No matter what spell you do, it will be deflected.” She turned to me. “Whatever spell is being used, it’s encrypting it, changing the response,” she explained.

“It’s responding to external magic,” he said.

“Exactly.”

His teeth gripped his lips in contemplation, then he slowly released them and looked from me to his sister. More silence filled the room and as looks passed between the siblings, I felt more and more like an uninvited guest.

“I’ll continue to go through the spells,” I suggested, and when no one objected, I went to the spellbook room. There weren’t any more books to go through, but I’d use any excuse to get away from them.

I was an undesired interloper, and the room let me know. The nudge of the air was more insistent, rougher. The room was more assertive with its feelings when I was alone.

“I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” I told it. Great, I’m talking to rooms now. Things just keep getting better.

Despite the revelation about the deflexio spell, I busied myself going over the spells, trying to make any sense of them, and help as much as I could with my limited knowledge of spell casting and magic. Being proactive and relentless were the only things I could cling to.

My eyes lifted to the door nudging open and a large raw steak floating into the room with grooves pressed into it from what I suspected were teeth, since I couldn’t see them.

Hi, Zareb. I let myself be momentarily distracted by the meat being unceremoniously plopped on the floor and the aggressive sounds of a dog shredding and eating the raw meat. Within a matter of minutes, there was just a bone. Silence. I wondered if he was taking a nap. A low shrill sound of shock whooshed from me when something rubbed against my leg.

Appearing next to me, Zareb leaned forward, wanting to be petted.

---