A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(25)

“But if all it takes is distraction to deflect magic, it sounds like necromancy would backfire constantly.”

“Sure, but you’ve seen how hard it is to distract yourself with monstrous dogs salivating for your soul. A non-necromancer wouldn’t know he had to concentrate elsewhere, and the average person wouldn’t even be able to.” He shrugged. “Plus, distracting yourself when you’re asleep is almost impossible. However, if you cast a dream ward”—he dragged out the two words—”you’ll be safe and sound until the morning.”

“The spell is . . . easy?”

“Very.” He scooted toward me, his face animated. “And if you’re even half as powerful as Elijah, you’ll be able to cast it with almost no effort at all.”

I pinched my lips together, considering his words. He wanted me to do necromancy. Necromancy.

The black magic that had destroyed my brother and created monsters like Marcus.

But I couldn’t stay awake indefinitely, and the more tired I became, the less I would be able to defend myself with this distraction technique.

And . . . there was just the tiniest corner of my heart that wanted to know what Elijah had done.

Wanted to know what this magic was that had made him—and made Marcus too—devote his life to studying it.

Then another part of me—that roiling part in my gut that would do anything to kill Marcus and take my brother’s body back—wanted to see just what kind of power I had living inside me.

“This simple little spell,” I said warily, “you’re certain it will protect me?”

“It’s not a permanent solution to the Hounds, but it’ll keep them away a bit longer.”

I wet my lips, and before I could reconsider said, “All right. Tell me what to do.”

His lips curved into a grin. “Focus your power and repeat after me.”

“Focus my power?”

“It’s quite easy—or I think it is, based on Elijah. Close your eyes.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me or make me cast some horrible, world-destroying curse?”

“Because that wouldn’t help me, now would it? I need you—alive—to set me free.”

“That’s a very comforting response, Oliver. Of course I can trust you implicitly when all you care about is using me for your own designs.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been thoroughly lonely and bored until you came along.

So . . . I don’t want to lose you.”

I grunted, and his face sobered. “You really are just like him, aren’t you?” He blinked quickly.

“Never mind. Just close your eyes and feel for your power—your soul.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined sending my senses out to the very edge of my limbs.

“It’s like taking a deep breath,” Oliver said, his voice low. “With each breath, draw power into your chest. The magic is part of you—it’s your very soul—and all you have to do is gather it into one place. You’re making a well. That’s what Elijah called it.”

I sat up tall, inhaling until my lungs were full. I tried to pull every drop of spiritual energy into my body.

It happened immediately—a tingle that started in my toes and fingers and buzzed up to my chest.

It was warm. Soothing.

“Wow,” Oliver breathed.

“What?” I mumbled, keeping my eyes shut. This was nothing like the burning pain in my hand or the electric crack of Joseph’s methods.

“You’re glowing.”

My eyes sprang open. “I’m what?”

“Just concentrate!”

I looked down. My entire body was emanating a soft blue light. I stared in horror at Oliver. “M-my skin!”

“It’s fine.” He threw his hands up. “No one’s looking at us. Trust me, El. Don’t worry. It just means you’re strong. Bloody strong.”

I gulped. “Wh-what do I do now?”

“You’ve got plenty of power here for the spell, so just repeat after me: Hac nocte non somniabo. ”

“What does that mean?”

“I will not dream tonight.”

“Oh.” I drew in a steeling breath. I could do this—I could cast a spell.

“Hac nocte non somniabo, ” I whispered. Warmth rushed through me like a wave, and the magic twirled around my heart—once, twice—before coursing back through my limbs and out. A heartbeat later, all the magic was gone.

I collapsed back onto the seat.

“You did it!” Oliver clapped. “And on your first try. Do you feel all right?”

A tired smile tugged at my lips. “Actually, I feel amazing.” It was as if balmy bathwater lapped at my skin, and all my worries had fallen away.

“A complete sense of well-being?” Oliver’s eyes crinkled knowingly. “That usually happens with necromancy. You ought to go to bed now—while you’re relaxed. Your body needs to sleep anyway, to replenish the soul you just used. I’ll be here—at the bar—if you need me.”

I nodded, too exhausted and happy to do much else. Necromancy hadn’t been what I expected at all, and I suddenly understood exactly why Elijah might have turned to it.