Within These Wicked Walls(53)

I looked at Saba apologetically and she shook her head, her eyes sad despite her smile.

“Did you follow us?” I asked as we exited the tomb. When she nodded I raised my eyebrows. “Just now, or all day?”

She chewed on her lip and gave me a sheepish look. She drew a circle in the air with her finger, traveling it in one direction, then mimed walking with her index and middle finger in the opposite direction.

“You came back?” I laughed and hugged her again. “You saved us back there. We’re both grateful, even if Jember won’t admit it.” I held her at arm’s length and looked up at her. “But you should go take care of Magnus. I know how he hates to be alone.”

She kissed my forehead, and handed me the lantern. Taking one last look in Jember’s direction, she ran out into the desert toward the castle, swallowed by the darkness of night.





CHAPTER 21


I’d never run toward death so quickly as when I saw the bleak castle lying before me. I could honestly say I was happy to be back. Happy the amulet hadn’t taken as long as I thought it would. Happy Jember had helped me with zero to little trouble. Happy to be back near Magnus. Happy …

Simply happy.

“Magnus!” I called.

“Welcome home, Andromeda,” his melodic voice purred, and my heart pounded.

I threw the door open, my breath retreating from my body.

Magnus was half sunk into the floor before me, half mangled bones and flesh, his face distorted in shocked rigor mortis.

I screamed but no sound came out. Instantly I knew something was wrong, that I wasn’t supposed to be here. I screamed again and something hard hit me in the face.

I blinked, panicked breaths shaking my body. I was lying on my side, in my dim childhood room, staring at Jember beside me. He sat on his half of the bed, back against the wall, finishing up an amulet.

I was too fatigued to touch my temple, even though I could swear a bruise was pulsing there. It was better than the dream. Anything was better than that. “Thanks for waking me.”

His only response was a grunt.

For a moment I watched him work. He didn’t need to see to loop the black and red thread through the tiny welded cuts, the needle like an extension of his hand. He threaded it through, knotted it, threaded the next one. Like a weaver at a loom. I tried to count the loops through my slitted eyes. Fifteen? No. He worked too quickly, and I was already agitated.

I closed my eyes again, although with no intention of sleeping. Instead I spent a while thinking a prayer to drive away the images of Magnus that had lodged themselves to stay … images of what might happen if I couldn’t save him.

I convinced myself they weren’t realistic. The Evil Eye wouldn’t kill its own host. It would never—could never—be his fate.

… could it?

The wooden creak of the drawer opening made me spasm, but it was only after the crinkle of paper that I opened my eyes. I watched Jember open Saba’s letter, with her list on the back of it. Slowly. Too slowly. I held my breath.

He let out a breath of laughter and grinned, and my breath relaxed. But, without much pause in between, he leaned forward and covered his eyes with his hand, murmuring a swear. He stayed that way for a moment, and then sat up and fished a notepad from the drawer.

We’d never used much paper growing up, and so he wrote on the archbishop’s pack of stationery I’d stolen three years ago—off-white with an elegant, intricate gold-leaf cross. He wrote more slowly than he threaded amulets. Occasionally pausing. Frequently crossing out what he’d written. He didn’t waste the sheet, filling it with words and crossed-off words before flipping it over and doing the same. He paused to read it over.

“Go back to sleep, girl.”

“What did Saba say?” I asked, if only to shove away the image that wouldn’t let me go.

“None of your business.”

“How do you even know each other? You said you never went to the house—” I froze, then jolted up, my grin unbridled. “Saba’s older than she looks. If she were alive, I think she would be about your age.”

“I know—” Jember looked at me quickly, his slightly wide-eyed expression confirming he knew that I knew. “Shut up.”

“You two were a couple!”

“I’m putting you outside,” he threatened, though it was a little less effective with the blush rising over his face.

“You love her,” I sang, dodging off the bed when he reached for me. “Admit it.”

Jember’s eyes were burning, and if he had been wearing his leg he would’ve come after me. “Why don’t you do what you came here to do,” he growled, pulling out the chalkboard and holding it out to me, “and work on your amulet.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t trust that if I got into grabbing distance he wouldn’t drag me onto the bed and beat me within an inch of my life.

And that truth bubbled up anger in me. “There’s nothing wrong with loving someone.”

“You’ve known me for fourteen years. Do you think I’m capable of love?”

My throat was suddenly tight, whether with a pent-up laugh or sob, I couldn’t tell. I swallowed … and again. “No” finally slipped out through thin air. “You are heartless.”