Page 117 of Midnight Auto Parts

“The bargain has been struck.” I kept my lips frozen in place. “It’ll be okay.”

Only the fear of further harm coming to my body convinced him to return to it and leave me to my fate.

There was nothing to do but plant my palms on the soil and begin the hymn that would change my life.

No sooner had the first words left my mouth than magic yawned awake, reaching out and finding an echo of itself already within me. That first touch, a confirmation, exploded into a torrent I couldn’t break free of or control.

This wasn’t the peaceful humming embrace of Bonaventure or the bitter foulness of cleansing a site of death magic. It wasalive. I shivered as wild energies infused my veins, igniting a feral pulse in my chest. As power swept over me, foreign voices kindled in my head, their presence a cacophony beyond my comprehension.

A small white stone tumbled to the earth in front of me, as if the magic that had bound Anunit to flesh had been holding it, and it spun as it dug itself a hole. It might have been a seed for how the wash of spirit blue light grew from it. But I had been a necromancer too long not to identify a distal phalanx.

My freaking toe.

The brightness swept across the pit, smacking into a wall.No. Building one.

All it required of me was to provide the Alcheyvaha magic with a living vessel. It did the rest. Or maybe it was more honestto say that Anunit, the original guardian, was guiding the power through one final act. I was christened with illumination, the glare forcing my eyes shut as the last of the magic spent itself.

Humming with energy, I drifted up and out of the pit then made my way to Kierce.

“This is awkward.” I stared down at where he held me. “I usually wake up back in my body.”

“The mechanics are the same.” His voice was hoarse, like he had been screaming my name, and I wished I had seen another way out. “Close your eyes and focus on the sensation of me holding your hand.”

Maybe it helped, seeing where he laced his fingers with mine, supplying yet another anchor to my body.

“I can do that.” I followed his instructions, allowing myself to retrace the now-familiar path back with only a slight hiccup as my soul brushed its shell. Then I was waking in his arms. “Hi there.”

On the upside, I appeared to have been spared from the lust dirt effect by Anunit soul-snatching me. As far as wins go, it was a small one, but at least it was something.

Dull footsteps thumped toward us, wheezing inhales identifying the new arrival before she stepped out.

“Didn’t…I…just…say—” panting breaths sawed from Josie’s lungs, “—no…more…running?”

Sweeping my gaze over her, I cocked an eyebrow. “It took you this long to catch up?”

“Running…is for…the devil.” She bent over, hands braced on her thighs. “You think this is…fun?”

As a matter of fact, I did enjoy running, but I knew a rhetorical question when I heard one.

Once she had caught her breath, mostly, I experienced a stroke of inspiration. “Can you bury this place?”

“I can do better than that.” Josie rubbed her hands together. “I can put it to sleep.” She spread her arms to encompass the forest and curled her fingertips. “Don’t be shy. No one will hurt you. This is the gig of a lifetime, I promise.” She opened her eyes, and they shone verdant green. “Come on.”

Dirt shifted and rocks clattered as she summoned, coaxing life to her as twelve sapling trees grew around the edge of the pit, taller and taller, until I could identify the variety.

“Good.” She twirled a finger. “Let’s tighten that circle, shall we?”

“Weeping willows.” I held my breath. “What did you mean? About making them sleep?”

As the trees grew up, they grew out, their trunks thickening. Leaves like tears dripped off their branches. The limbs wove together, creating a canopy that blocked the sky. Their trunks’ girth increased until each one of the trees brushed its neighbor, forming a wall.

The trees shuffled their root systems to draw up dirt from elsewhere and fill in the pit until it was level, covering the bones from view. Then lush grass sprouted in a carpet that filled the ring with small purple flowers poking up through the blades, a variety I had never seen.

“There’s a story the trees told me when I was little, about how a young mother left her baby by the river one night. The mother was poor and sick and couldn’t care for her, so she left the baby where the neighboring village women collected their water every morning. The baby cried and cried until the wind blew the limb from the weeping willow above her into her basket. The willow, having never seen a baby, wasn’t sure what it could do to help. It was only a tree, and the baby was hungry.”

“Please don’t tell me the willow eats the baby.”

“What?” She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

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