Page 20 of Envious Of Fire
What an odd time to be envying Kyle.
But if he’s going to take a leap of faith with Mance, he will need to secure himself something of an insurance policy.
And so:Very well, states Tristan.I shall do what you wish and give Lord Markadian the box.
Raya turns to him at once. “Tristan …”
However, he goes on,since I’m paying such a price and taking such a risk, I wonder if I might ask you for…one additional favor.
Mance lifts his eyebrows, appearing genuinely surprised. “I gotta commend the balls on this one. You really think you’re in a position to ask for more outta me? What? Stealin’ someone from Death’s Divine Domain ain’t enough? Talk about wantin’ your resurrection cake and eatin’ it, too.”
My second request is hopefully much simpler. Tristan smiles as he tilts his head.I would like a protection spell…a spell for a very important person whom I care about very much.
“Now that’s unexpected as fuck,” blurts Mance, pulling the cigarette off his lips, smoky snakes rising from his fingers where it hangs. “You want a protection spell from a guy like me? Shit. That’s so outta left field, I’m almost compelled to agree to it for goddamned free. Look at me, I’m fuckin’ touched over here.”
Can you do it,asks Tristan lightly,or not?
Mance considers his request, dragging fingers over his lips in thought. “You serious ‘bout givin’ that box to Markadian?”
Apocalyptically.
Mance smirks. “Alrighty.” He reaches into a pocket, pulls something out, then flings it across the way. Tristan catches it with ease—a black-beaded bracelet. “Here you go.”
Tristan weighs it in his hand.Do I just…wear it?
“See them beads it’s got? All them little black beads the size of corn kernels?”
This looks like something you fish out of a dollar store bin in a shopping mall in 1992.
“Eat one.”
Tristan gives Mance an uncertain glimpse.Eat…?
“Go ahead, eat a bead. Don’t we trust each other?”
Raya tugs Tristan’s sleeve, her eyes beseeching him not tooblige Mance, begging him in every way except with words.
Her pleas go ignored.Of course we do, sings Tristan lightly, slips the dark bracelet right on, and bites off a single black bead. It crunches with ease like a pillow mint at a hotel, then quickly turns bitter. It is a struggle to swallow.I…am not sure I enjoyed that very much.Two out of five stars.
“Every hour from now until that bracelet is fuckin’ gone, eat another,” instructs Mance.
Tristan blinks.There are…a lot of beads.
“Each time you eat one, think on the person you wish to …protect. Their face. Name. Eyes. It ain’t a good idea to interrupt the process, so do count them beads and commit to bein’ wide-ass awake for that many hours. Once you’ve eaten them all—and this part is important—stab your hand with a knife.”
Tristan, busy counting the beads, looks up.Sorry, what?
“Stab … your hand … with aknife,” repeats Mance, making the motion. “You’ll bleed black outta your palm. Collect all that dark-as-fuck fluid into a container. A glass vial is best, but any will do, even a used milk carton, a syringe, a condom, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. For as long as you keep it unspilled, so will your sworn individual be protected.”
I wonder, why must your talents be so dark and vile?Tristan asks with genuine interest.Couldn’t you just tell me poetic Latin words to recite, or make me drink a fizzy potion?
“You’re the one who asked a necromancer for a protection spell. If you wanted lavender candles and Kumbaya, you should meddle with cuter witches.”
Tristan considers the bracelet again.And this will work…even on someone who is…not quite mortal?
“You mean someone like you?” Mance smirks. “Yeah, it’ll work onwho-the-hell-everyou’re so damned thirsty to protect.” He snorts. “Guess that concludes our little date here. You and your gal didn’t even put out. Pity. I’ll be seein’ you at that clinicyou mentioned, evening of the full moon, no sooner.”
Wait…full moon? But that isn’t for several more days yet.
