Page 75 of Outlaw Witch

Zeph’s phone then pings, and he gives me a nod. “Midnight.”

I lick my lips and nod back. “Whenever you’re ready, step into the circle and we’ll begin,” I tell Fabian. He follows the instruction, avoiding the runes and picking up the chalice.

Clutching the book in one hand, I then face Fabian from outside the rune circle.

The words for my part of the ritual are not complex, but I don’t want to stumble over them and mess up, so I’m keeping them handy.

The book says that the curse must be brought forward, pulled to the surface with my blood magic. The potion, combined with the runes and the words I chant, should work to purge Fabian’s system of the darkness inside him. I will then capture the curse and Fabian will provide an act of great sacrifice or love which should hold the curse where it is.

With no body to hold it, the curse will dissipate.

And Fabian will be cured.

That’s the idea, anyway.

I swallow hard, trying to draw some liquid into my horrendously dry throat.

And then I begin.

"Blood of old, curse's bane," I chant.

"With this potion, break the chain.

Under the blanket of stars, let the curse's grip erase.

Relinquish shadows, embrace the night, be free, be cleansed in this enchanted rite.”

I then pull on my blood magic and target it at Fabian. My chest warms as my magic activates and my skin begins to tingle. The runes glow with an eerie white light and the humming from them intensifies. Ipullthe curse to the surface of his blood. It’s like trying to pull an impossibly heavy weight and I’m straining and sweating, my teeth gritted.

A headache pulses at my right temple, but I ignore it, focusing all of my attention on Fabian. On the sick curse in his system. I keep onpullingand Fabian lets out a little startled exclamation. I can feel the curse reacting to the ritual, it writhes inside of him like his veins are filled with snakes.

Keeping my hold on his cursed blood, I keep my teeth gritted and force out the next instructions.

“Drink the potion.”

Fabian does this, letting out a little groan as he chugs it down in three big gulps.

“Fuuuck. Tastes like blood and piss had a party.”

“Two of the worst bodily fluids to have in your mouth,” Roscoe mutters before letting out a little yelp as Zeph punches him.

I can feel sweat beading across my forehead. It’s already trickling down from my armpits, forming rivulets all the way down my torso.

Jesus, fuck, I’m going to need a long shower after this.

Fabian lets out another pained groan, clutching at his arms and then his abdomen like he’s in pain. I guess this is the part where the curse rebels against our attempts to purge it from his system. I’m still concentrating hard on pulling it to the surface and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. My legs are shaking so hard, it feels like they’re struggling to hold me up.

“Last part, Fabian,” I call before taking a deep breath. I then plant my feet against the concrete. “You need to do your act of great love or sacrifice.”

He drops to his knees, staring at me with his face pale and gaunt. I can see the black inside his veins pulsing and shifting across every inch of exposed skin. It’s like the curse is panicking and flailing like a wild animal, desperate not to be caught.

“You need to draw all my power out of me,” he rasps with a little gasp of pain. “Pull it all out of me when you draw out the curse.”

“W-what?” I stammer. This is the only bit of the ritual we haven’t discussed at length. Fabian thought that by sharing his idea of an act of great love or sacrifice, it would somehow demean it or make it less likely to work.

I explained that he was thinking about birthday wishes and the preteen girl theory that they won’t come true when you tell someone. But he wouldn’t relent and I had other shit to focus on, so I let it be.

Seriously regretting that decision now.

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