Page 115 of Sigils & Spells

“Jefferson, where are the paramedics?”

“They’re on their way up.”

Leesa laughed all the while the two men helped her onto her feet. Braced between Aidan and Jefferson, she continued to laugh as Aidan Mirandized her.

“Do you understand the rights I’ve just read to you?”

Head down, she answered, “Poor Jonah. He’s going to die before you break my spell.” Her head lolled back. “I liked him. Poor Jonah.” Her knees gave out. Aidan and Jefferson supported her.

A tall woman with Bassett hound eyes came in. “Building is secure. We’ve started questioning the neighbors. Do you need help in here?”

“We’re good. Just need the paramedics to look her over.”

“Stupid little witch.” Leesa tilted her head, squinting at me. “You don’t have what it takes.”

“Let’s get her out to the living room,” Aidan said. “We can wait for the paramedics there.”

She laughed and kept laughing as Aidan and Jefferson walked her out.

I turned back to the closet. What spells had she used to seal this door? Gently massaging my palm, I considered her words. I didn’t have what it took.

I didn’t have experience with shield spells. Was that what she meant? Until the other night, I’d never gone up against a black magic spell. Breaking it had wiped me out, but it hadn’t burned my hands like this.

What had she said to Franz?I’m working out of my element.Had she pushed herself too far? All I needed was a hairline fracture in her spell work. I thought about the thin, white scars on her hand. Had she started out using gray magic to power spells beyond her capabilities? Could I use it to augment my magic? A dangerous idea sprouted in my mind.

Aidan walked into the bedroom. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He nodded at the closet.

My plan might not work. But if it did and I could free Jonah it would be worth it. Right?

What would the cost be? I could endure a little pain. Would that be all I’d have to pay? I’d seen firsthand how gray magic had changed my mother. She’d always been brilliant and ambitious. And before her dabbling, she’d also been warm and loving. Some witches could resist the allure of gray magic, using it only now and then. Others became addicted to it and craved more and more power, finally turning to dark magic.

“Do you have a knife?” I asked.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah.”

“Is it sharp?”

“Yes.”

I held out my hand.

He pulled out a pocket knife and gave it to me.

I swallowed hard. It was only one spell. Freeing Jonah was worth it.

How many other witches had assured themselves the same thing?

I was not my mother.

I sliced my palm. Holy Hecate, it hurt. Blood welled up in the short, shallow cut.

“Marin! What the hell?”

I dipped a finger into my blood and traced the sigil on the door, sending up a prayer to the goddess I remembered it correctly.

“What is that?” he whispered.

“Hopefully, what it takes.” Whimpering like a baby I cut again. Deeper and longer. I swore like a sailor. Then I slammed my bloody hand over the sigil and cast my magic. It felt like jumping into a lake of fire. Searing heat scorched my blood. Pain shredded me.

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