Chapter 39
Ophelia
Igot the scarf around Rocko and he almost flew apart in a rage. He didn’t know what it was, not really, but he sensed something amiss. Some kind of trap, maybe, if he allowed himself to notice my petty machinations. Deirdre tried to hex him but it bounced off his defenses, and Rocko tried to pull her into one of the rifts again. I barely got there in time.
I linked my arm through hers and tried not to look at where Nola’s wolf body lay still and motionless in the dead grass. She had to be fine. She was just stunned. I swallowed hard and turned my attention to Rocko as he drew himself up and tried to fix me with a mocking smile.
“Little mouse, you’ve gotten so brave,” he crooned. His long, yellowed fingers grasped at the air, trying to summon me to him.
My feet moved against my will as his magical net cast out and trapped me—again. Again. I wanted to scream in fury. I wasn’t the same kid who’d gotten snared by his sweet talk the year before. I wasn’t helpless and adrift and uncertain. I knew who I was. I knew what was wrong with my magic.
I knew... I clenched my jaw and searched for that well of chaotic, crazy magic. All the times in my life when it had worked against me, when it ruined my life and forced my family to move, all those times the magic billowed up and took over. And yet when I needed it, when I needed to have crazy magic, suddenly it was well-behaved.
I needed Henry to throw me off-balance. I needed something to shock the hell out of me. Leaning against Deirdre, I said, “You’ve got to keep him distracted. I need to bind him.”
She nodded and threw a few hexes at him, the icy bitch face returning until she looked like a completely foreign, ancient witch. “Come here, asshole, and I will show you who is a little pigeon.”
From her voice, I knew damn well she wasn’t the little pigeon.
Rocko, however, didn’t get the memo. He smiled and crept toward her, his hands still moving, and whispered the kinds of phrases that meant spells and chains. Things that would tie her to him, would mark her.
I shivered and lifted my own hands so I could reach for the magic in the knitting. I’d poured everything into it as the panic bubbled up in Deirdre’s house, as we sat there and tried to figure out how to save Silas. And all of it was falling apart, literally right in front of me. Chaos broke out as animals and people appeared out of nowhere, enough of them that Rocko would no doubt decide to run away and fight another day or sneak about in the shadows until he caught me alone.
I couldn’t handle the indefinite threat of Rocko stalking me the rest of my life. My vision blurred and I choked on the need to finish him off. To finally end the goddamn misery of suffering under his thumb.
My magic seethed as my anger rose, as emotions tugged at my control. It wasn’t fair. I pulled at the binding and whispered the words that would close it tight around Rocko, would keep him anchored to that land so we could finish him off. As it was, a wolf darted in and tried to bite him but bounced off the shields that still protected the sorcerer. He reached out to catch Deirdre’s arm once more, trying to pull her through a rift, and it slowed him enough that I could pull the binding still tighter around him.
He ignored me. He underestimated me, just like we’d planned. He turned all of his attention to Deirdre, to the stronger witch, and tried to milk her power into his own. Violet sparks filled my vision as I watched, as I saw exactly how he’d ensnared me.
But I didn’t have enough. The wild magic that wanted to leap out and contain him lingered just beyond my reach. Waiting for the worst possible time to overreact. Probably after all the fighting was over and Rocko disappeared after enslaving me and Deirdre and Silas, maybe after killing the wolves and—and a bear?—and... Henry.
Henry.
I choked, turning and searching for him as I lost my compass and didn’t know where to look for help. The binding held Rocko as he started to drag Deirdre into a rift, as he used our previous connection to try and summon me as well, but it would not hold forever. It was just an anchor, slowing him down.
I searched for a sign and saw only gray and black and brown wolves, racing through the dead grass and trying to reach us. Where was he? Where had they all come from? Where was Henry? I needed him. I needed him.
I took a shaky breath, about to give up, when a voice boomed, “Ophelia!” and a wave of absolute certainty rolled through me.
Henry. He was there.
I didn’t even need to turn to see him. I knew. He was behind me. He stood with me, even as everything else went wrong.
The magic roared just as loudly as he had and spiraled through me like a tsunami. I channeled it, fought to direct it, using the hints that Deirdre gave me just a day earlier, and aimed it at the sorcerer.
Rocko leaned back, his eyes widening slightly, and his grip on Deirdre loosened.
My arms remained outstretched as I advanced toward him, barely holding on to the chaotic stream of pure power. “I bind you. I bind you, sorcerer. You are bound to this place and you will not flee.”
He cursed and backed toward one of his rifts. “You will never bind me, you feeble—”
“You are bound,” I repeated, and the words carried the full weight of ancient spells I never thought I’d be strong enough to use. He would be stuck there. We could finish him off however we wanted, taking our time if necessary. “You will release the wolf. You will cease sending your spells out—”
“You do not order me,” he said, drawing himself up to his considerable height. His face reddened at the absurdity of it, no doubt, that his “little mouse” had turned out to have claws and a mind of her own. Rocko remained where he was, despite looking like he tried to retreat and disappear into the air. “You are nothing without me, do you understand? You’re nothing. Less than nothing. A pathetic excuse for—”
He didn’t finish. Deirdre and I both shouted hexes at him at the same time, just as two wolves leapt at his throat.
Rocko screamed and waved his arms, magic sparking out until the air itself shimmered and sizzled, and the wolves sneezed as they backed away. They had blood on their paws and muzzles, but when the sorcerer’s robes fell to the ground, no body remained within them.
