A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(97)

Barnabas approached her. “Just to enlighten you, Your Radiance, this has been our plan for a long time. Sienna gave up two years of her life to work her way into your good graces and earn your trust. But, like you said, without that magic dagger of yours, you can’t be sure of anyone’s loyalty, can you?”

The goddess’s lips thinned. “And what do you mean to do with me now?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Valoria. Without your determination to open this gateway with Maddox’s magic, we couldn’t have done any of this. You yourself have given us the means to rid ourselves and Mytica of you, once and for all. From this point forward, you are exiled. You’ll never find a way back here. You are now free to spend eternity searching for your thief friend and that dagger you’re so desperate for.”

She shook her head. “Barnabas, you can’t do this. You can’t simply shove me through a gateway and have me disappear!”

He laughed again. “Oh, I believe I can.”

He clutched her shoulders and fixed a wild-eyed, victorious stare on her. Then, pushing back on his haunches to harness more strength, he shoved her backward.

She didn’t budge an inch.

A slow smile snaked across her face. “Didn’t you hear me? I said you can’t do it.”

And with her words, the earth beneath Barnabas’s feet swiftly turned to mud, and he immediately sank down into it to his waist. He fought to free himself, but he was in too deep.

He continued to sink farther, now just a little at a time. The more he struggled, the faster the enchanted mud drew him downward.

Valoria examined the air magic binding her. “These wispy chains are impressive, but let’s not be silly.”

With a violent flick of her wrists, she brushed off the spell, the translucent binds sputtering out into specks of dust, and strode toward the witches. “I hate to repeat a trick twice in the same day, but you both deserve a nice, slow death.”

Again, the earth gave way to muck beneath them, and they swiftly sank into mud pits identical to Barnabas’s.

It appeared as though Barnabas’s brilliant plan—which was a complete secret to Maddox until now, of course—had failed. Rather spectacularly.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing,” Becca said, her voice strained, “think faster.”

She believed he had a plan at the ready to save them all. She couldn’t be more wrong.

But I have to do something, he thought frantically. Something. But what?

The goddess might be many things—vain, greedy, impulsive—but she wasn’t stupid.

Was it possible that he could reason with her?

As Valoria approached the shadowy gateway, Maddox stepped in front of her. “Wait. We could make a bargain,” he said, attempting to keep his tone as calm as possible, given the current life-and-death situation. “If you spare the lives of Barnabas and the witches, I will gladly work for you.”

“Oh, you poor boy. Yes, you will work for me,” she agreed. “That was never in question. But they’ve already chosen death by crossing me.”

She shoved him out of her way. He lost his footing, and when he dropped to the icy ground, the silver ring holding the dark forest spirit, which he’d nearly forgotten about, tumbled out of his pocket. Steadily and as if in slow motion, the ring rolled toward the gateway until it made contact with the swirling shadows.

With a blood-chilling shriek, the trapped spirit streamed out of the ring as a sickening plume of darkness and took the form of a shadow creature much larger and denser than the one Maddox had originally summoned. The magic surrounding the gateway had affected it, changed it. Strengthened it.

The spirit turned toward Becca, who staggered backward.

“Becca, run!” Maddox yelled.

“Becca? Who is Becca?” Valoria asked. Barnabas, Sienna, and Camilla were now up to their shoulders in the mud.

“Oh, that’s just another name he likes to call me, now and then,” Barnabas called out. “Adorable, yes? Sorry, my young friend, but I can’t run at the moment. I’m busy sinking to my death.”

Just as Maddox was about to give in to despair, the sound of Valoria’s amused laughter drew his attention.

“So sad,” she said. “If only you had the kind of magic that could help the living, nephew.”

All his life, Maddox had been told what to do, how to act. He’d been trained to be afraid. He’d reacted diplomatically to hardship, dealing with difficulties as they presented themselves, but he’d never taken a stand. Never stood up for himself. Whenever he’d tried, Livius had beaten him down and stolen his confidence, laughed when Maddox felt his lowest.

Livius had never felt threatened by Maddox’s magic, because Maddox had never shown him what this magic could really do.

“You’re right,” he said now to Valoria. “My magic can’t help the living. But it can kill the living.”

With every bit of confidence he had left, he summoned what death magic he had left and focused it wholly on the goddess to give her an example of what it truly meant to be a necromancer.

Valoria gasped, her hands flying up to her throat. “What—what . . . is . . . this?” Her face blanched, her green eyes blazing like fiery emeralds. “Release . . . me!”

He shook his head, slow and stern. A calmness, a strange sense of serenity, had taken over as the magic flowed across his skin. “I don’t want to do this. I’m not a killer. But you’ve given me no choice. My magic is death magic. I don’t want to kill, but I can, and I will when I’m given no other choice.”