Page 64 of Premonition of Peace

I tried to move quickly, but I couldn’t. Tremors rippled through me. Keeping steady was imperative while also seemingly impossible.

I wove Lucifer’s thread through the spindle, pulling mine away from Marcel’s so I could unravel what I had started to connect.

The moment I did, Marcel’s body convulsed. The muddy purple in the thread wound its way out of me, traveling down the length of the thread . . . and thereby taking away the life source that had been keeping him alive.

I watched in slow-motion as that death magic drove down the thread, pieces fraying behind it, heading straight for him. That’s when I knew in my heart he was going to die. He’d been on the cusp when we started the spell, and the threads had pulled from me to give him life. Without it, the magic was able to fully devour him.

A scream filled the air, and I realized it was mine as I reached my hand toward him as if it would do something to stop theinevitable. As if I had some magic that could save him. Some magic that could stop?—

An errant wind rushed through the room until all I heard was the sound of my own sobs. The magic in the thread had paused, millimeters from his heart.

Everyone in the room stood still, frozen.

Orson was behind his sister, his hand on her shoulder, with her hand resting on top of his. He held his arm out, as if he was manipulating a spell.

He’d stopped time.

“Orson,” I breathed.

His gaze drifted down to Marcel.

The sound of a weakened heart thumped pitifully, once.

Twice.

Long pauses between each beat, but Marcel was still alive. Barely.

Tears streamed down my face.

“Now, Auntie Nat,” he whispered, and Honor gave me a smile of encouragement.

Grabbing Lucifer’s thread, I wound it with Marcel’s, moving swiftly as I wove them together in the loom, over and over, repeating the spell as I did.

The loom seemed to hum with energy, each pass of the threads through the warp and weft creating a resonance that vibrated through the strands. The threads became hard to distinguish from each other.

With each second that passed, the thread grew stronger. I whispered my incantations under my breath. The loom glowed with a soft, ethereal light, each weave making it pulse brighter.

I may not have bound him to me, but I felt the connection we had strengthen as his proximity to immortality neared.

I put the loom down and picked up the shears. One wrong move, and everything could unravel. The shears felt heavy inmy hand. Pulling the thread taut, I carefully snipped Marcel’s connection to the mortal realm, leaving him bound to Lucifer.

The new thread flared brightly. As the severed ends of the threads wove themselves into a new pattern, I felt a surge of energy pass through me. I may not have been holding him to this realm, but he had always been tied to me.

The sigil on the floor pulsed with Honor’s power, the magic within it reacting to the completion of the ritual, sealing the new reality I’d just created. Marcel’s thread, now intertwined with my familiar’s, glowed with a renewed vibrancy, the life force within it strong and steady.

Immortal.

The glow slowly dimmed until second by second, everything around us returned to normal. When the final bits of light faded from Marcel’s face, his features were radiant and free of the magic that had been marring his body. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat strong.

“It’s done,” I said, my voice cracking.

Orson released his hold on time, and the room exploded into life, everyone talking and reacting all at once.

“Orson!” Piper scolded, shock and fear on her face.

“I had to, Mama. I had to help Auntie Nat,” he said softly, not apologizing.

Honor stood up, hugging her brother.

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