“Now, I need a secret from each of you.” He hands us each a pen and a long strip of a thick, strange-feeling paper. “Write it down, curl up the paper, and then hand it to me. It must be secret or this won’t work. Minerva requires your knowledge.”
I blink, trying to think of something. I’ve never had to offer a secret before. He didn’t say it had to be weighty, so I try to think of something that no one else would know but me. Ben knows about my parents. Nick, too. I consider for a moment longer and then write down:
Maurice doesn’t want to be changed back from a cat. He likes it.
It’s something I learned one night while playing “blink for yes” with Maurice. He has his perverted moments, but he also really enjoys being a cat. I asked him if he wanted to be changed back, and he assured me that he did not, which made me feel a little less guilty about his curse.
I fold my secret up and hold it out to Abernathy, and Ben has one written, too.
“All right. You can look over. I have everything prepared.”
We get up from our chairs, and I look over. Abernathy sits on the corner of the bed, his legs crossed, his small form hunched over a series of covered bowls. One of them smokes, and the faint scent of incense fills the room. As I watch, he takes a small silver blade, runs the knife over the back of his hand, and lets it bleed into another bowl. I nudge Ben, thinking about the fresh Band-Aids I put on his palm wound earlier today.
He just smirks at me, arching a brow.
Abernathy bleeds into the bowl, and the feeling of magic slides through the air, making it heavy. He sprinkles a bit of blood into each bowl, and they all begin to steam, as if suddenly activated. I watch as he waves a hand in the air, calling out names and invoking different gods. Some I recognize—Minerva, Jupiter—and some I don’t. He mumbles under his breath, his eyes closed. He raises a hand into the air, gesturing toward me. My bracelet—Ben’s bracelet—grows hot. I touch it, worried.
“Just borrowing,” Abernathy says without opening his eyes. “If it bothers you, you and Mr. Magnus can perform a sexual act to supply the power I require—”
“Borrow away,” I yelp before he can finish the sentence.
Ben just arches a brow at me, but I ignore it. He thinks it’s cute that I’m so flustered, but I’m not about to perform some sex-magic nonsense with this Abernathy guy around. He can have a secret about Maurice and a leafy-tasting kiss, but that’s it.
Abernathy pulls on the magic again, and I feel energy drain out of me as if I’m a tire with a slow air leak. My head grows heavy, and then I sag against Ben as Abernathy continues to cast. Ben wraps a strong arm around my waist and presses a kiss to my temple, holding me up.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be.” He rubs his lips against my hair. “I’ve got you.”
Abernathy picks up the bowl with the wadded-up secrets and sprinkles a bit of his blood on them. One catches on fire, but the other remains paper. He frowns at us. “Which one of you gave me a dud?”
Ben nudges me. “I think it’s you. I’m a hundred percent positive mine’s secret.”
Oh. I blink heavily, trying to concentrate. It’s late and I’m sapped, though, and I nod as Abernathy hands me another piece of paper and a pen. I move across the room to write it, hiding my paper from both Ben and Abernathy. I try to think of something no one knows but me. One thing immediately pops into my mind, and even though it feels dangerous to write it down and acknowledge it, I do.
I’m in love with Ben Magnus.
I fold it up tight and hand it back to Abernathy. The moment he sets it in the bowl, it goes up in smoke. Abernathy nods. “Minerva is pleased now.” He gestures at Ben. “Do you have something of your aunt’s I can use to focus my casting on?”
Ben pulls out a fat, ugly ring from his pocket. He holds it out to Abernathy. “Her first wedding band.”
I didn’t even know he had it with him. Then again, of course Ben would. He’s always prepared. He knows how this stuff works. Me, I’m just the battery.
The sleepy, sleepy battery.
I don’t protest when Ben moves back to my side and wraps his arms around me, tucking me against him. I can feel Abernathy pulling more magic, and I nearly groan aloud when he uncovers a bowl full of bones and chicken feet. In my experience with Dru, the spells that take the most out of you are the ones with the animal parts. I wonder if it’s too late to ask Ben to fuck me atop the table instead.
“We’re going to toss the bones,” Abernathy says, raking the used components aside with one arm and clearing off a spot on the bedsheets. “And they will spell out the name of the person that cast the spell upon your aunt.” He drops the ring into the bowl full of bones and shakes it like a Christmas present. Then he takes a handful of bones, closes his eyes, and casts them on the mattress.
I peer down, both worried and excited to find this out. Is it Livia? I still have my money on Livia.
It looks like nothing more than a scatter of debris in front of Abernathy, though. He doesn’t look worried, however. He runs his hand lightly over the bed, and as he does, the bones seem to jump and move, forming a letter.
M
My lips part in surprise. Oh. It’s working. I’m always shocked when magic works. Some part of me keeps expecting to wake up and realize that everyone’s been faking, but there’s no mistaking that M spelled out in chicken feet and wishbones.
Abernathy grabs another handful of bones and tosses it down next to the first pile. This time, the bones move into place as if drawn by magnets.
A
An uneasy feeling starts in the pit of my stomach. That’s . . . awfully coincidental.
When Abernathy tosses out another handful, the G that shows up is stark and obvious. I swallow hard.
“I don’t understand,” Ben says, voice low.
Abernathy ignores him, tossing another handful onto the bed.
N
I slide out of Ben’s grasp, feeling sick. Ben killed his parents, sure, but he said it had to be done. It was to save them. But . . . what if he’s been lying to me this whole time? Using me? Just like my parents always say whatever is necessary to get what they want? I think back to Dru’s words, about how all her familiars get cursed.
Of course they would, if Ben doesn’t like them. He’s the only person other than Dru that’s been around every single one of them over decades and decades.
Abernathy casts again, and my vision hazes, the power drain taking its toll on me.
U
I sway, but when Ben reaches for me again, I shake my head and push him aside. I don’t want him to touch me. Not if he’s the one that cursed his aunt. He knew I was going to quit . . . What if he did this just to make me stay?
I was leaving that night, and then the next morning, Dru was cursed.
I swallow hard. It’s not coincidence. It’s not.
I turn to him, utterly shattered. “Was this all just to get me to stay?” I whisper, beyond hurt. I’m numb (though that might be the casting). “You couldn’t just let me leave?”
“Reggie,” Ben says, shaking his head. “I didn’t. I would never—”
There’s one final draw of power that drags me under, and I collapse before I even see the bones spell out the S in Magnus. I don’t need to see it.
I already know the answer.
35
BEN
I carry Reggie to our hotel room. It’s late, and luckily I had the forethought to get us a room in the same hotel as Abernathy just in case we were both too tired to leave after the casting was done.
Abernathy had no explanations for me, just a sad shake of his head. “I told you. No one ever likes the answer.”
“It’s wrong,” I snarled at him, furious. “I didn’t do it.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. I told you you wouldn’t like it.”
“It must have read the ring wrong,” I stammered, trying to understand why the spell would firmly point the finger at me. “I held on to it for too long. It targeted me instead of my aunt. It must have—”
The look Abernathy gave me was pitying.