Page 33 of Death God

On it, several mages said eagerly. But we need to feed on your energy to do it.

Aren’t your peachy? I said, but I knew that they’d been starved for a very long time. Their souls weren’t harvested, unlike those who fueled the ward of the portal. They didn’t fade only because they’d once been very powerful beings, and because they wanted revenge more than anything. Just don’t take too much. We might be allies, but if you cross my boundaries, I can be a bitch. And when I turn into one, you won’t like it.

These vengeful spirits and I might share the same goal, but they weren’t anyone’s nice grandpa or grandma.

A stream of frosty mist rose into the air from the cuffs. The spirits twirl around me, readying to feed on me.

Hold on. I raised a finger. Only those who do the job will get a sip of me. I’m not everyone’s food, and I’m very tired.

Two dozen or so spirits started to drink from me. Power leaked off me at an alarming speed, to the point where I felt like my skin was going to peel off my bones.

Enough! I hissed. This hurts more than I thought.

The spirits were like a black hole.

Pip said enough! a hybrid of demon and Fae warned. Take too much and she’ll get mad. When she gets mad, we might not have a meal for a long time.

Her power is so strong, so sweet, and so spicy, a male spirit whined. He was a sorcerer or a wizard.

We haven’t fed for so long.

We need Pip. Let’s not weaken her, the lead spirit warned. I recognized him as the first one whose voice reached me in the horseman’s palace. We’ll take only what is necessary from her to get the job done. It’ll have to do.

Your high mage ringleader is right, I said. Now fuck off.

The feeding ceased, and I rubbed my arms.

This new Pip is rude and crude, a spirit offered.

I’ll open a channel for you to feed on the dark mages, witches, and some bad shifters, I said. Teach me how. Then you won’t have to take energy from me. I’m not naïve. I know my power is the most delicious and will juice you up fast, but you still won’t take from me.

That’s a shame, they said, but we’ll respect your wish.

Great, chop-chop, I said. Let’s get to work and fuck up the horseman’s minions’ spells.

A stream of dark wind swept across the room, peeling off or eating away the spells latched on the walls, ceiling, and the ground.

Don’t look so surprised, Pip. A spirit standing by laughed. Our enemies used their black spells on us on a daily basis when we were alive, so it’s only fitting that we ate them with your death power. Now you can close your mouth.

You have so much power, yet you are so ignorant, another spirit chimed in as she dove under the mattress. Youth is wasted on the young.

I watched them in a supervising manner, my fists planted on my hips. Fuck them. They even laid spells under my sheet like black golden eggs.

At last, the spirits also cleaned up the spells in the bathroom.

Then I realized that it hadn’t exactly gone as I’d asked. I’d told them to only alter the spells to fool the horseman, but I might have asked too much. The spirits might have been powerful mages when they were alive, but the dead couldn’t really do much to spells other than rip them away.

It couldn’t be avoided then, even though Spartoi would know by now that I was onto him. He’d suspect that the cuffs couldn’t bind my power completely and might try to spell a new pair of cuffs and get me to wear them. I’d revealed my cards so soon, but there was always the unexpected.

I needed to keep the spirits a top secret.

Could you guys eat away the binding runes and spells on the cuffs? I asked.

The runes and spells on the cuffs have many layers and are specially targeted at you, the spirit leader said solemnly. The darkling had your blood sample and merged your blood into the spells, turning it against you. Under the complex spells, they carved ancient runes as the foundation to prevent you from breaking free. Only you can find a way to shatter the spelled cuffs that are sapping your power—we’re only slowing them down by sipping the power they take from you. You’ll need to be stronger and grow more powerful to be free of the cuffs.

No way could I become much stronger in a week or two. I’d need Marlowe to become stronger, and we’d need a miracle for him to find me.

I didn’t want to overthink at the moment and add more headaches to my pile. First thing first, I needed a scalding hot shower to get rid of the stench of the black magic clinging to my skin, and then I needed a few hours of sleep. I was exhausted.

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