“How will you do it?”
If only I fucking knew.
But I kneel beside him and run my hands over Hans.
I can feel the buzz of the incomplete curse under my fingertips. I call forth the magic and watch as it rises about his chest, the thin purple strands lightly clinging to the red lines of his life.
“Okay, okay, that’s good. It’s not a strong curse,” I say to myself. “I can do that.”
But the magic flickers in my weakened state, and nerves rush through me.
I need more power.
“Gerrit,” I say gently. “You’re not going to like this because you don’t trust me and think I eat children, but I need some of your blood.”
“What are you going to do with my blood?”
“Drink it.”
He startles, scuttling back from the sofa. “Yeah, fuck that.”
“Do you want me to save your brother?” I snap. “I know you’re scared, but I think your heart tells you you can trust me. Give me your wrist.”
The blonde man swears under his breath but shoves his wrist in front of my face. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he grumbles. “You better save him.”
The bite is clinical, almost. Purely to get enough power to be able to save my Complement.
This is not for pleasure.
His rich blood, tasting of currants and saltwater, rushes into my mouth and fills me with power. I don’t drink my fill. It’s not time for that. I get just enough to give me what I need.
The twisted magic solidifies over Hans’s chest, and I slowly untangle the strands. The curse comes easily now that I am powered up. Once it is untangled, Hans’s coloring immediately starts to improve.
I hold the curse in my hands, unsure of what to do with it now. My eyes land on the Banisher, and I push it into his chest, hoping for the best.
Maybe it’ll stick to him even though he’s dead.
A bitch can hope.
I watch the curse weave through his body. As it does, the sigils he drew around my home begin to light up, strands of magic waving from them like broken spiderwebs.
Without delay, I’m on my feet, running through my tiny home and disabling all of the sigils. When I do, my brother’s body begins to seize.
Did I not check to see if he was really dead? That seems like a very important step to miss.
But I snapped his life threads.
Was this some sort of failsafe? Was he being held alive by the magic connecting him to these sigils?
With all of the sigils deactivated, the curse planted in the Banisher’s chest, and Hans healing, the weight of the day catches up to me. I slump into a chair at my table, burying my face in my hands.
“Briar?”
I’m hearing things, obviously. The stress of the day and wishful thinking have me imagining Hans calling my name.
“Witchy.” Oh, cool, I know how to imagine Gerrit, too. The mind never ceases to amaze me.
“Miss Briar.”Imagining the wolf speaking in my brain is strange, but my grief over losing them is so strong it only makes sense that he’s included in it.
