The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(106)

It took far longer than he wanted to prick each person’s finger and push their bloody print onto the debtor’s side of the contract. He had just under three hours left, and the journey back to the villa was forty-five minutes.

When each person had marked a contract and stepped back, Sebastian drew out the glittering diamond vial and uncorked it. A murmur rippled through the crowd, but they stayed in place.

They didn’t realize they needed to be afraid.

His hands shook as he smoothed out the bit of parchment with the incantation written on it. He’d have to make this quick. As soon as the crowd realized bodies were dropping, they’d rush for the exits. He was blocking the only one they could use, and he couldn’t stop a mob from leaving. He’d start with the people closest to him and form row after row of bodies in hopes that it would slow the others down.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Teague has instructed me to seal these contracts with a bit of magic in his old language. There’s a small chance it will have an adverse effect on you, but don’t worry. It will wear off.”

Swallowing the bitterness of his lies and telling himself he was doing this to save not just Ari but the entire kingdom of Súndraille, he looked at the parchment and said, “Ghlacadh anam de Elina Pappas agus mianach a dhéanamh.”

Before the light of Elina’s soul could finish gathering in her chest, before her soul separated and sent her body plummeting to the floor, he’d spoken the incantation for Savas Andris, Athan Gretes, Vadik Palas, and five others.

Conversation erupted across the warehouse as the bodies fell and lay unnaturally still.

He read faster, whipping through the contracts and barking out the incantation as the frenzied bursts of conversation became screams of horror when the remaining people realized that those who had fallen were dead.

They rushed for the back exit first—fleeing the sound of his voice. He read faster, flinching each time a body hit the floor.

Each ball of light that arced its way from a body and into the vial he held left a mark on Sebastian’s spirit. A scar deep beneath his skin that bore the name he’d whispered as he spoke the incantation that sealed their fate.

The bodies piled up. The contracts seemed to grow heavier as he moved through the stack. And the incantation, long-since memorized, became harder and harder to force out of his mouth.

By the time the remaining members of the crowd rushed for the front exit—for him—it was too late. He was down to eighteen names, and they were blocked by the enormous sea of bodies lying across the floor.

Eighteen more names to add to the scars that he carried inside. Eighteen steps closer to rescuing the princess and losing himself.

He’d told her after taking Kora’s soul that he didn’t know his way back from it.

She’d told him that he wasn’t alone.

He was alone now, and every name he spoke, every ball of shimmering light he added to the vial, pushed him further away from any sort of help. He was an island of guilt, lighting torches to every bridge.

When he’d taken the final soul, he left the warehouse and locked the door behind him so that no one would disturb the bodies until he could restore their souls.

Stars, he hoped he could restore their souls.

He looked at the position of the moon, turned his steps toward the villa and found it nearly impossible to move.

He’d done the unthinkable. If Teague didn’t keep his word, or if Ari had been gone for too long, then every piece of himself that he’d just sacrificed had been in vain.

It didn’t matter that he’d only gone after the guilty. It didn’t matter that he was hoping that Ari’s plan would succeed and that the vial full of souls would be freed to return to their bodies.

He had no actual proof that any of it was possible. He had nothing but desperate hope and faith in his princess.

His shoulders bowed, crushed beneath the weight of what he’d done. He’d become something worse than his father, and that knowledge was a razor blade to the part of him he’d tried so hard to extricate from the nightmare of his childhood.

There was no turning back now. He’d made his choices. All that remained was to see it through.

All that remained was to keep his promise to Ari.

Holding that thought close, he began running south through Kosim Thalas, the slowly drifting moon chasing his every step.

His breath tore through his lungs, and his sides ached when he finally reached the villa. He took the stairs three at a time and burst into his room. Ari was lying exactly as he’d left her. The contract hidden beneath the neckline of her nightdress rustled as he scooped her up and hurried down to the study.

Teague was standing at the window, his unlit pipe in his mouth and his back to the door. Maarit’s body still lay crumpled where she’d fallen.

“I have them,” Sebastian said, as he stalked across the room and gently placed the princess in the desk chair.

“Put her on the floor.” Teague waved one elegant hand in the direction of Maarit’s body.

“It’s too late. We’re almost out of time. Let’s finish this,” Sebastian said as he handed the contracts and the vial to Teague, making sure to bump the top desk drawer open just enough to see the glint of the dagger Ari had told him she’d seen on her first foray into the study.

Teague hefted the contracts and then set them down. Taking the stopper out of the vial, he sniffed at the mist that rose, and then smiled widely.