A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(27)

His yellow eyes locked on mine. “Yes.”

“Then do it!”

He pulled me close. “Promise to set me free.”

The Hounds were so near, I could hear each snarl and the gnashing of their phantom teeth. “I can’t set you—”

“Promise to set me free,” he shouted, “and then I’ll save you!”

“Fine! Yes!” I shrieked over their raging howls. “I promise!”

Triumph flashed over his face. Gripping my left hand, he started whispering words I didn’t recognize and could barely hear. Then he leaned in until our foreheads touched. “Say Sum dominus et veritas.”

I hesitated.

“Say it, Eleanor—now!” The boat tipped dangerously, and the Hell Hounds’ growls shattered through my skull.

“Sum dominus et veritas!” I screamed.

Blue light flashed in Oliver’s eyes, and he tugged my glowing right hand up. The air around it sparked, cracking with electricity. Oliver’s eyes flashed the same color as my hand.

Abruptly, the wind stopped, and with it the howls.

But not the smell of grave dirt.

I turned to face them. The guardians of the spirit realm. They looked exactly as they had on the spirit dock, but now they stood still, confused. Four dogs towering over us, their noses sniffing and yellow eyes staring.

“Wh-what do we do?” I croaked.

“Give them a minute,” Oliver whispered. “Their target—your hand—just vanished. They should leave soon . . . I think.”

After what felt like hours of holding my breath, the dogs finally did twirl around and leave. I darted forward to watch them go.

Over the ship they bounded, their feet barely skimming the wood, before they leaped up off the edge and winked out of existence completely.

I spun to Oliver. “They’re gone?”

“Yes. Gone.”

My breath whooshed out. I almost doubled over. Oliver slipped his hand around my waist and guided me to the nearest bench, where we both plopped down and swallowed in air.

“That . . . that was close.” I was coated in sweat, and my scratches were scabbing over anew.

“Too close.” Oliver leaned onto his knees and held his head. “But that was smart of you, El. To bind to me, I mean.”

I winced. Maybe it had saved my life, but at what price?

“Don’t look so miserable,” Oliver grumbled. “You got to keep your life, and you got your hand back.” He reached for my right wrist and held it up.

My jaw sagged. All I could manage was a shocked sputter.

For there, wiggling at me as good as new, was a very flesh-colored, very real hand.

Chapter Eight

The first thing I did with my new hand was pinch Oliver.

“Hey!” He scooted away from me on the bench.

“Is it real?” I leaned toward him to pinch again, but he wriggled away.

“Of course it’s real! Well, mostly.”

“What do you mean ‘mostly’?” I held it to the light, flexing and straightening the fingers. My body blazed with a warmth ten times more powerful than after the dream ward was cast. The closest

I’d ever come to a feeling like this was when the doctors had fed me laudanum after amputating my hand. But this was a much, much better feeling. Instead of a happy lethargy, I felt ablaze with energy. I could do anything.

Oliver returned to his seat, eying me cautiously. “It’s a phantom limb—it’s only here because of my magic.”

“A phantom limb,” I repeated, shaking my head. “And will it stay forever?”

“About that . . .” He fixed his eyes on his feet. “It’s bound to me.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning the hand only exists as long as I exist.”

“So if I set you free, I lose the hand.”

“If?” Oliver wagged his finger at me. “When, you mean. You just made a binding agreement.”

“What happens if I don’t follow through?”

He bit his lip. “There is, um . . . a time limit. If you don’t set me free within the next two months, then your new hand will vanish. And, if Marcus’s spell is still in effect, then the Hell Hounds will come after you just like they did five minutes ago.”

“So I’m really no better off than before!” I cried. “All I did was sign over my life to you!”

“And I signed over mine!” He threw his hands up. “You ought to be thanking me, El! You’ve got absolute control over my magic now—anything you want done, I have to do.”

I deflated slightly. “Why two months?”

“The longer the time frame, the longer the incantation. We were in a bit of a rush, you know.”

“And now . . .” I stared at my fingers, torn between staggering relief and pulsing terror. “Now you’re my demon? Like a djinn?”

“Precisely. And you’re my master.”

“Will you call me Master Eleanor?”

“No.” He looked horrified. “I never called your brother Master Elijah.”

“What if I command you to?”

“Then I have to.” He groaned. “But is that really the sort of command you want to give?”

I shrugged. “Well, I have nothing else to ask for . . .”