“Yes.” He held his hands over the amber light, closing his eyes. Slowly he intoned a single word, his deep voice a velvet caress over her skin: Oriel. As soon as he’d enunciated the final syllable, the glow on the bindings ebbed away.
The driving wind battered the boat, and Kester ran a finger along the spines of the volumes, muttering to himself. “The Heptameron is too celestial. The Liber Juratus should have it.” He pulled it from the shelf and began flipping through the pages, skimming the text. “Ok, here it is. Honorius’s Armor—this will repel almost any magic.” He pointed to the looping lettering written on the page. “It’s Angelic. Do you think you can read it?”
She stepped over to his side, looking down at the yellowed pages. She couldn’t quite understand the words, but she knew how to sound them out—just as she had when she’d first summoned Emerazel. Obviously, F.U. had done something useful with her time. “Definitely.”
Kester began to read and Ursula joined in. As soon as they began to speak she felt the magic rushing over her skin, like she’d just stepped into a warm bath. As they intoned the spell, her skin grew warmer and the sensation grew more sensual. The words almost seemed to draw her closer to Kester, like a magnetic pull. Underneath his cedar smell was something darker she couldn’t identify, something that drew her in. The dull ache of loneliness that always seemed to gnaw at her heart began to soothe.
As they intoned the final stanza, she felt his arm brush against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. But at the final utterance, the spell between them snapped away. Ursula gasped like she’d been dropped into the river outside. For a moment, her skin felt like it was encrusted with ice, then a dull fatigue took over again.
“What was that? I felt something…” She struggled to describe the sensation.
He closed the book, sliding it back onto the shelf. “That was a magical aura, a byproduct of casting a spell. It’s strengthened my aura, giving me a sort of magical armor from fae weaponry. On top of that, any spell I cast will be more powerful now.”
“Your aura? What about mine? You said the spell would protect us.”
“It protects me, and I will protect you. There’s a good chance we’ll need to fight our way out of there.”
She fumed. “My role is to be protected? I thought I was supposed to be a demon warrior now.”
“Swords are great, but you don’t know any magic.” He crossed to Zee, scooping her up from the table. “Look, I’m going to tuck Zee into bed and get myself ready. We’ll leave in five minutes.” He disappeared into one of the rooms in the bow of the boat.
Alone in the main cabin, Ursula had time to look around. The fire crackled invitingly in the stove, while the spray from the river lashed the portholes.
With a groan, she stretched her arms over her head. Her whole body ached like she’d just gotten over the flu. Giving Kester part of her aura was apparently hard on the nervous system—not to mention the rest of the magical shitstorm she’d been through this evening.
She walked to one of the bookshelves. For some bizarre reason, learning that Kester was a voracious reader was the most shocking revelation of all tonight. She scanned the spines—a row of the classics: Shakespeare, Melville, Dante, Dumas.
Ursula pulled out a volume of Homer and flipped it open. The pages were stiff and smelled of fresh ink; he wasn’t reading these books. The shelf below held more recent novels: Doyle, Verne, Burroughs, Christie, even Bront?. The spine of Jane Eyre was creased and faded. Flipping through, she noticed some underlined passages. I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.
Kester’s heels clapped over the boards, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, suddenly overcome by the feeling that she was invading his privacy. She shoved the book back on the shelf before glancing at him.
He now wore a moss-green shirt, open to his stomach to expose his chiseled chest, and leather bands around his wrists. His trousers were midnight blue velvet, and fitted to his body, and boots were laced up to his knees.
Ursula gave a low whistle. “You look amazing.”
He frowned. “I look like a knob. But this is how they dress.” He picked up the white fur jacket he’d spelled into existence and passed it to her. “Joe will be here any minute. I’ll instruct you in the car on the way over. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
She shot him a sharp look. Ursula was gradually coming to understand that F.U. hadn’t been a girl to be trifled with. “Don’t underestimate me, Kester Peele. Let’s go.” She slipped into the jacket, and strode off his boat into the stormy winter air.
Chapter 29