Dead of Night (Thorne Hill 1) - Page 10

“It’s buried in the woods.” I think it is at least.

Nicole claps her hands together. “I’ve always wanted to try this!”

“Try what?” I ask.

The twins look at each other, speaking at the same time. “A resurrection spell.”

CHAPTER 12

“I was hoping you’d call.” Lucas’s voice through the phone makes me shudder. I can still feel his big cock pressed against me. Can still taste him on my lips. Tingles run through me, starting from the center of my chest and going right between my legs. I bite my lip, thinking I’m going to need to take a trip to my bedroom and handle business myself so I can proceed with a clear head. “Miss me?”

I do, actually, and I don’t just miss the way his body felt against mine. I like being around him, how he doesn’t judge me. How I can just be myself and not hide the fact I’m a witch.

How he’s not scared of me.

“Just a little. Do you miss me?” I ask.

“Yes. Can I see you tonight?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be coy with me now.”

I lean back against my couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table. “What did you do with that body you took care of for me? Please say you buried it.”

“Yes, I did bury it.”

“Would you be able to take me to it? And maybe help me dig it up.”

“That’s an interesting idea for a second date, Ms. Martin. I have to say, you keep me on my toes.”

I smile. “If only that’s what this is…trying to be spontaneous or something.”

“Or something. No one who’s asked me to dispose of a body has ever asked me to dig it back up.”

“Can you, though? I kind of need it.”

“If you’re into necrophilia, I’m good at playing dead.”

“Gross. And a world of no. I got the book today—thank you, by the way—and it got me thinking that maybe this Gatekeeper is guarding another realm or something similar. Something important enough to have demons guarding or…or…whatever that demon was doing the other night.”

“I still don’t see how the body is going to come into play.”

“It’s probably best you don’t know.”

“Now I’m really intrigued,” he says. “I will meet you at your house.”

“Great. And, Lucas? Thanks.” I hang up and then definitely don’t obsess over whether or not I should take my hair out of the messy bun it’s in and magically curl it or not. Or maybe have it down straight.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say out loud to no one in particular. “The dead guy won’t care. And actually, I should consider making one of those hair nets because I’m sure this body is going to be decomposing and oozy. I don’t want that in my hair.” I let out a breath, mentally telling myself I’m pathetic.

After a good five minutes freaking out about looking good for Lucas, I get back to business. This resurrection spell is complicated and full of dark, tricky magic. If we get one part wrong, it could end badly. Very badly.

Pulling the band out of my hair, I rake my fingers through it, untangling it enough for me to braid. I toss my hair over my shoulder and go into the kitchen, getting out the necessary herbs.

“Anyone feel like hunting?” I ask my familiars. “I need fresh bones.” All three perk up, wanting to go out and kill something. “Nothing too big,” I shout after them as they shadow out of the house. “A bird or rabbit will do.”

There’s a fine line between light and dark magic, and we’re definitely walking the tightrope with this spell tonight. The only thing making me feel better about tonight is knowing that we have no intention of keeping this guy resurrected. We need to talk to him, try to get into his head, and then send him back to the ground. No life for a life. No altering the natural order.

The problem with dark magic is sometimes when you cross into the darkness, it’s hard to come back. You take and take and take, and eventually the universe gets even with you.

I grab a jar of pink Himalayan salt and a satchel of herbs and go upstairs to fill up my bathtub with warm water. A cleansing bath before a ritual might be overkill, but I’m not taking any chances with this one.

Half an hour later, I get out of the tub feeling refreshed. I rinse off in the shower and then get dressed in my favorite black leggings and an off-the-shoulder black top. I re-braid my hair and go downstairs to get started on the resurrection spell.

I took a photo with my phone of the page in the twins’ book. If we don’t do this exactly like the book says, the spell won’t work.

I pull jars of herbs from the cabinet along with my mortar and pestle, which I was lazy and didn’t clean out the last time I used it. Giving it a quick wash, I hold my hand over it to heat up the stone and help it dry.

All three of my familiars caught something, and the mouse Freya is chewing is almost gone. Pandora has something that I think might have been a squirrel, and I have no idea what Binx has ripped apart.

Grimacing, I reach down and take two leg bones, looking away as the remaining tendons and muscles snap and break.

“Sick,” I say with a shudder. “I should have worn gloves.”

Trying hard to keep the lump in my throat down, I go back into the kitchen and take the bones to the sink. I have to clean them the best I can and then boil them in a potion for exactly thirteen minutes.

Once the bones are clean and the blood is scrubbed off my hands, I put them in a pot to boil. I warmed the water on the stove as I cleaned the bones, so it’s already boiling. I add the herbs, get out my phone and open a stopwatch, hitting the start button as soon as I drop the bones into the water.

Then it’s back to the herbs for another potion. I have everything poured out and ready to be mixed and ground in the mortar and pestle by the time the bones are done boiling. Using a pair of kitchen tongs, I take the bones out, quickly dry them, and almost burn my fingers trying to snap them in half. They’re not at all brittle, and yet somehow, I’m supposed to grind them to a powder—without using magic.

“I’m starting to think this entire spell is a set up for failure,” I tell my familiars. “Just something a bored witch came up with thinking that someday she’d get willing victims to do some nasty things.”

Just then, there’s a knock at my door. I wrap the bones up in a towel and wipe my hands on my leggings as I walk through the kitchen to the front door. I can sense Lucas before I can see him, and my heart skips a beat.

But it’s not like I’m excited to see him or anything.

“That was fast,” I say when I open the door. “I talked to you like an hour ago.”

“I wasn’t in Chicago when we spoke,” he starts, not taking a step in until I invite him. He doesn’t need to be invited in to enter this time, no, but he’s doing it out of respect.

I move to the side, welcoming him in. “Well, good. I could use your help.” As soon as I close the door, he rushes at me, arms snaking around my waist. He pulls me to him, and my middle smashes against his. My heart jumps again, and blood rushes through me.

“Help with what?” He brings his head down, burying his face against my neck. I shudder from his touch. I want more. Now. My eyes flutter shut, and I bring my arms around him, slipping my hands under the black leather jacket he’s wearing.

He’s not as cold as before but is more or less room temperature. It’s weird, but not off-putting. Not in the least.

“Grinding up fresh bone into a powder.”

He pulls back, one eyebrow raised. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the body you want me to dig up.”

I nod. “It does.” Neither of us break apart. I slide one foot to the side, pulling him a little closer between my legs.

“And you’re still not going to tell me what this is about?”

“I’ll tell you.” I reach up, gently brushing his messy hair back away from his face. “But don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“There are very few things I’d talk you out of.”

“Good.” I close my eyes for a second. “Because I’m going to resurrect him.”

“Him? The demon?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “The demon is long gone, but the man he possessed can be brought back. We’re going to try to see into his mind and get some information. If he was possessed by a Gatekeeper, we need to know why one came to the area and why he’s looking for witches.”

“He’s looking for witches?”

Shit, I said too much. More than I’ve said to anyone else, even Kristy. “Yeah, it’s a theory.” A theory I’m going off of based on a creepy vision I had. “Either way, it was rude to off himself before I got my questions in.”

Lucas suddenly picks me up and moves with vamp speed to the living room, setting me down on the couch. He holds himself over top of me and I quiver. Fuck, I want him.

“You’re something else, Callie. And I like it. I really like it.” He draws his fangs and I slowly bend my hand up, bringing my fingers to his mouth. Carefully, I touch one of his fangs, pressing my flesh against it. It wouldn’t take much pressure to cut myself, to let a little bead of blood form at the puncture.

To let him taste me.

“Have you done this before?” he asks, moving his head down to my breasts.

“No,” I say in a shaky voice. He’s asking about the spell, but so much else applies right now. “I have…very direct instructions to follow. I think we’ll pull it off. I hope so at least.”

“Who makes up the we you keep speaking of?”

“My friend Kristy, who you’ve met already, and two more friends. The spell is from their Book.”

“And you trust these other witches?”

“With my life,” I say and mean it. “We’ve been through some interesting times together in the past already.”

“Interesting is how I describe you,” he muses. “It’s been a long time since I met someone who continually surprises me.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“It is. I like being around you, Callie.” He moves off me, rolling to the side and pulling me to his chest. A human would have dropped me doing the move he just did, but Lucas holds me steady with one arm as if I weigh nothing. To him, I suppose that’s probably how I feel.

Now I’m on top, but the tone has shifted, and his presence is more comforting than anything else. Though we both would still like to strip each other naked.

“So this bone,” he starts, gently running his fingers up and down my arm. I inhale, feeling a little nervous again, and lean forward, resting my body against his. “Why are you having issues with it?”

“It’s freshly boiled and I can’t use magic to grind it to a powder. But you’re a lot stronger than I am.”

“I am indeed. Much, much stronger.”

“Don’t rub it in,” I shoot back. “I need to grind it up so I can mix it with the herbs I’m supposed to burn after we invoke Hecate.”

“Hecate? This sounds like dark magic.”

“Oh, it’s dark alright.”

Tags: Emily Goodwin Thorne Hill Fantasy
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