Page 63 of Premonition of Peace

I closed my eyes, concentrating on changing the way the magic flooded through the channels. Slowly, the burning sensation began to lessen as I reversed the flow, using Lucifer as the first conduit before it reached me. It had become tempered and manageable. I glanced over to see Lucifer’s jaw clenched, his gaze trained on me only, his eyes glowing with a bright, fierce light.

The channel was complete, and the lines of salt glowed with energy. Ceasing the chant, I released him, turning my hands palm up and holding them out as I continued.

Marcel coughed weakly, a dribble of blood trickling down the corner of his mouth and down his neck. My stomach clenched, and sigil pulsed as my attention on the spell waned. Lucifer reached over to squeeze my hand, and I nodded, speaking the spell through the lump in my throat.

I concentrated on the objects of fate before me, and then I called further to the power of the Eye, allowing myself to refocus on the threads in the room. I only needed to see what was attached to me.

There were several threads linked to my existence, but three were strong, bright and connected straight through my heart. Two of them shone brighter than the other, one a little duller, as if the connection was incomplete. I sifted through them, passing by the one that I knew had been connected to me the longest.

It wasn’t hard to find Marcel’s, weak and frayed. The irony of its dimness standing out against the bright gold of everyone else in the room was not lost on me. I reached out and gently plucked the thin thread between my thumb and forefinger. I wrapped his thread twice around the spindle before setting it down.

Grabbing Marcel’s thread hanging from the spindle, I picked up the loom with shaking hands and then placed it in my lap. Sourcing my own thread, I pulled on it, feeling the tug in the pits of my soul when I draped it over the loom.

Using the spindle to guide Marcel’s thread and the loom to twine him with mine, I began to work. I bound us together. With each weave of the loom, Marcel’s thread changed. First it became a thicker strand. Then it became brighter and stronger, feeding from my own.

I looked at Marcel, and the death magic in his veins dimmed beneath his skin. His sickly color began to improve. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and a small smile formed on my lips.

It was a fleeting victory.

The strand frayed again, turning from a light gold to a muddy shade of purple, traveling the length of the thread connecting straight to my heart. His body jerked twice in a harsh, forceful motion. The hopeful change in his pallor disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“No!” I barely recognized my own voice.

Panic flooded my senses.

Pain coursed through me.

I ceased weaving through the loom any further as I coughed, and the same trickle of blood I’d seen in him came sputtering out of my mouth, spraying on the floor in front of me.

“Nathalie!” August shouted, stepping forward, but Señora Rosara placed her arm in front of him. Ronan held Piper back as she lunged toward me.

I shook my head violently, holding my hand up. Honor remained the same, watching me closely.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, and she nodded, completely unaffected.

“Natalie, you cannot hold the tie,” Señora said, her voice rising.

“I can! I just need to fix the thread!”

“Listen to me now! He needs an immortal tie. The death magic is transferring through the thread. If you bind him to you, it will kill you both!”

“No,” I whimpered, swallowing thickly. “I can . . .”

“You cannot hold him to this plane!” she shouted, stepping forward but stopping before she crossed the sigil.

“I can change myself to an immortal,” I countered, thinking quickly. “I’ll change my reality first?—”

“You can’t,” she argued, frustration radiating in her tone. “What you are doing is not that spell.”

“I have to try?—”

“Tie him to me.” All eyes in the room turned to Lucifer. His jaw was still clenched tight as Honor’s power circled through us. He dipped his chin once.

Pain wracked my body, and I nearly doubled over as the death magic attacked my insides. Tears stung my eyes, and I choked out a sob. Exhaustion washed over me, threatening to consume all my energy. Marcel’s color had paled. His cheeks were gaunt. Tiny purple lines appeared beneath my skin.

“Move the godsdamned thread now!” August ground out, his fists clenching. “I’m not losing you!”

My hands trembled as I found Lucifer’s thread, gold and vibrant and strong.

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