Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(97)

Jilo went to where the sword lay, looking down at its glinting blade. “What do I do with it?”

“Pick it up,” Maguire said, “and bring it to the edge of the sigil.” She hesitated. “The picture,” he gestured with his free hand to the design surrounding him.

A bit of anger broke through her wall of caution. “I know what a sigil is.”

“Then pick it up and get on with it. Come on, it’s a saber, not a rattlesnake.”

She bent over and grasped the hilt, lifted the sword from the ground. It was heavier than she’d imagined it would be, but she could still raise it high enough to cut this monster down, to put an end to both him and his seed. She wondered if she could find it in herself to drive it through his heart, and she decided that yes, to protect her own, she could. She could do it without a qualm. And if even the slightest of opportunity arose, she would. A wave of sadness descended on her—because of this man, she now had murder in her heart, something she’d never expected to find there.

“That’s it,” Maguire said, his voice rising, waxing eager. “Bring it over.”

Jilo glanced at the boys and tried to give them a calm, reassuring smile. Willy’s face showed he didn’t buy the story she was trying to sell. He stood there, nearly vibrating with the urge to flee. To save himself. To save Robinson. But Jilo knew that if he gave into that urge, his heart would cause him to remember her and hesitate. Then he would be lost, and probably her Robinson, too. She shook her head, signaling for him to hold on for just a bit longer. To have faith in her, even if in this moment, she, herself, was without faith.

She carried the sword to what she assumed was the base of the sigil.

“Stop,” Maguire said. “That’s far enough. Whatever you do, do not enter the circle drawn around us.”

“All right,” Jilo responded. “What now?”

“We’re almost there,” Maguire said, “almost done. All you have to do is say that you accept the Beekeeper’s magic.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, then take the blade and run it across each of your palms. Gently. It’s very sharp, and we won’t need too much blood. Just a few drops. The cut is the opening through which her magic is gonna come into you. And the blood will seal the deal. You just make sure some of it gets on the lowest point of the star, there. Yep,” he said as her eyes fell to the ground, “that one there, right next to your foot. One hand on those two points where the lines intersect. That’s all I need from you. That’s it. You do that, and you can get on with patching up that fellow of yours. My son and I will get on out of here. You’ll never see hide nor hair of either of us again.”

In the distance she heard Guy cry out in agony, warning her that if she wanted to save her son’s father, the time for hesitation was over. She traced the blade across her left palm, wincing as the slightest pressure did indeed open a deep gash. Trembling, she repeated the action again with her right palm. I accept the power, she thought as she dropped the sword to the ground and knelt beside it. “I accept the power,” she spoke the same words aloud again, unsure whether she actually had to say them, or if thinking them was enough. She felt no change. No change at all.

“It has to come from your heart, girl,” Maguire called to her. “You have to want this in your heart. And you should, ’cause I promise you, if you don’t make this work, none of you are gonna walk away from this. I will take that sword and hack that boy of yours in half myself.”

I accept the power, Jilo thought, but this time the words were neither a statement of fact, nor a simple affirmation. They were a plea. A prayer to any force that could come and help her save the children, heal Guy, and free them all from these monsters. A sound like the buzzing of a thousand bees rose up around her.

An electromagnetic surge slammed her upper body to the ground. It took a few moments, but she managed to push up to her hands, gasping as she caught sight of them. A blue fire, like the hottest gas flame, covered them, yet she felt no pain. The fire, she realized, was not consuming her as she feared it might, but instead was emanating from her, racing out and tracing along the design carved into the earth, setting the whole thing alight. It spilled out from her, shooting out in both directions, clockwise and counterclockwise, traveling along the intersecting lines that made up the star, then setting fire to the circle at its center. As the liquid flames traced through the earth, she was filled with an odd sense that somehow she’d experienced this before. But no, she realized, she had never witnessed such an event. The energy flowing through her had given her that sense. The power. It remembered.

She felt the power’s memory of her nana, and her nana’s mama, too. And a terrified girl, much younger even than herself, cringing and crying as the power took her over, just as it was now filling Jilo. Through this girl’s eyes, she looked up at a face very much like Maguire’s. This girl, she realized, was her nana’s own grandmother. And then the image faded. Jilo wondered just how many more generations this nightmare might reach back.

The energy rose up and spilled into the infinity sign that both linked and separated the men. Then, without warning, Thomas began screaming, a tortured, agonized cry. Jilo looked up to see his twisted face—mouth open wide, eyes round and full of fear. He was shaking wildly, steadied only by his father’s hand. Jilo looked on, unable to break free of the energy that held her. “Run, Willy, run,” she began screaming. She hoped that he heard her, that he obeyed, but she couldn’t even turn her head, frozen in place by the power linking her to these two men.