Celia grimaced. “I don’t even know what that means, but I’m guessing it’s disgusting.”
Tobias scowled as he left the she-wolf’s side and stepped into the sunlight, shutting the door behind him. He left Estelle on the other side. Apparently, Oswald is still angry about the swan ladies. “Where else can we run at this point?” he asked. “The Purgators rule the country, and we have no idea how to enter other magical lands. We’re trapped here.”
Celia twisted her necklace around her finger. “If the King’s army is sniffing around when the Picaroons come, they’ll slaughter us. My father won’t stop at anything until my head is on a pike, like my mom’s.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Thomas placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Tobias and Oswald will teach us how to fight with magic; everything they learned from the Ragmen. If the Throcknells or the Purgators come for us, we’ll flee, but we’ll fight if we have to. And we’ve got a fire demon on our side.” His gaze fell on Tobias. “You’re practically a demigod, right?”
Oswald narrowed his eyes. “He’s got fire in his blood, but I’ll teach you the spells. Beforetime, Tobias was too busy sating his appetite to learn much.” He pivoted, striding off along the dirt path.
Definitely still angry, then. Tobias bit back a retort.
They followed Oswald between densely packed wooden houses to the village’s edge. The path led into the forest, lined by wild blueberry bushes and beach roses the color of harlots’ lips. A wren trilled sharply in the sweet birches, and Tobias glanced at the verdant branches. There was something oddly primal and inviting about these woods. He could lose himself here.
“Too bad we don’t have a new spell book,” said Alan. “We’ll be fighting an army with an entire library at their fingertips.”
Oswald cut a glance at Tobias. “Tobias doesn’t need spells nowadays, do he? He’s truly made of embers.”
Alan nearly tripped over his wolverine as the enormous creature tried to weave between his legs. “Why don’t we all carve ourselves and gain the same powers? We’d be like demigods.”
“I’m not sticking a knife in my chest,” said Celia.
“Those powers come with a price,” added Oswald. “Only a fat-headed lubberwort would pay it.”
“What is the price?” asked Thomas.
Good question.
Oswald stopped walking, causing the others to stop too, and his icy gaze fell on Tobias. “My old friend has forfeited his soul.”
A shiver worked its way up Tobias’s spine. He had no idea what a soul was for, but it seemed a bad thing to lose. “And what exactly does that mean?”
Oswald turned, walking on, and they followed. “It means that when you die, your mind will endure. Until the end of time, you will still see, still hear, still feel. Ever onward, you will atone for Emerazel’s great sin, languishing in her inferno. Until the god of night snuffs out the sun’s flames, until the earth withers and dies, you will live in everlasting pain. That’s what it means.”
Tobias felt the blood drain from his head. Eternity in the inferno. What in the seven hells have I done?
Alan cursed softly.
“Hang on,” said Thomas. “How do we reverse that? There must be some way. What if you—I don’t know—cut off the mark?”
Oswald scoffed. “You pennyworts think everything has a simple fix. Everyone gets a happy ending, right? It’s not going to happen. Tobias has given his soul to the inferno.”
“I think you might need to work on your delivery of bad news,” muttered Alan.
Tobias’s temples throbbed. I need a way out of this.
“Well, there’s got to be something,” said Celia. “He’s not going to the inferno. It’s out of the question.”
Oswald cocked his head. “That’s sorted, then. We’ll just send the princess to tell an ancient goddess of destruction that it’s ‘out of the question.’ ”
Celia shot him a dirty look.
Tobias’s stomach clenched. All of his thoughts and memories would be burned from him, and there would be nothing left but pain. He wouldn’t remember the stories his mother used to tell. He wouldn’t remember Eden’s loud laugh, or the mischievous glint in Fiona’s eyes. Grief whispered through him. “Estelle knows something. But she won’t tell me what it is. She wants something in return.”
“What does she want?” asked Celia.
“I’ve got a guess,” muttered Oswald.
“What if we strike a deal with her? What if she’s willing to fight with us?” said Thomas. “We can’t stay here, but neither can the werewolves. They’re vulnerable to attacks by the Picaroons. The sea demons are slowly picking them off. What if Estelle wants a new home for her pack? ”
“What do you mean?” asked Celia. “What new home?”