46. Dispellation

forty-six

“What did you do?” Lou screeched at them when they hit the viewing platform, falling into stride next to Darkly, who carried Milla in his arms. She was too Waydrunk to walk, much less keep up with him. As far as she was concerned, this was the best of both worlds. Close to her Dark Witch and getting a ride down the mound?

Nine rings, yes.

“What the piss-shitting hell did you do?”

“Found the ritualists.” He ducked under the stage, dodging a sprinting Elder Witch and aiming for the exit. Though the voice had gone the way of the Shades and all the magick at Beltane, he still spoke in the cold, distant way of a Dark Witch deep in his magick. “Where’s Toby?”

“Here.” Tobias stepped beside Darkly as he cut across the grass, following the curve of the stage. He had changed, donning Enforcer blacks and the leather gloves, and clutched another wooly-pully in his hand. “Was all that necessary?”

“Found them, aye?’ Darkly snarled and stopped, scanning the fleeing crowd and deaf to the panic filling the ritual grounds. “Rai?”

“Just over here,” said Tobias. “She was putting up a ward the last I saw her.”

“Does one of you want to explain what the fuck just happened?” Lou put herself in front of Darkly, walking backward.

Milla held up her phone, showing her the map function within the E.R.I.E. “Got ‘em.”

Lou read the screen, eyes flitting to Milla, then Darkly. “The campground? But—Donny …”

“No time, Lou.”

“Make time,” she snapped.

Darkly ignored her, charging past his sister. Behind them, Tobias explained what he had pieced together or learned from Rai.

“The social distortion made it impossible to locate the ritualists; Ludmilla and Keir resolved the issue.”

“By causing a massive burnout? ” Her voice rose impossibly higher, and Toby pointed to the sky. She looked up, faltering as she saw what Milla had from the top of the mound.

A pulsing, crimson star. In the few moments that had elapsed, the summoning had gained ground. A humanoid shape now visible, if only just, at the heart of the dread star, its head haloed by prismatic rings, the limbs too long and far too familiar.

“A brückengeist , ” Tobias stated. That one, Milla knew—a bridge ghost, to translate the old German phrase directly. It was a shell, an illusion, a temporary manifestation housing whatever elder power was being summoned from beyond the Gates. The mark of a ritual so Forbidden and Foule only the biggest idiots would attempt it.

So Milla and whoever these chucklefucks were.

“Holy Horned God.” Lou drew a warding sigil in the air, and Tobias jogged ahead of Darkly, calling over his shoulder, “This way.”

Safely tucked in a copse of oak and pine, Rai hunched over a picnic table, chanting with her voice pitched low.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it?” Her hands flew over herbs, sachets, powders, and pills. A kettle on a camp stove whistled quietly beside her mortar and pestle, and she’d drafted a metal pail to serve as a makeshift cauldron.

“Is it ready?” Tobias called out. She whipped her head up, throwing out a hand at their approach.

“Don’t come closer.” Scanning her work surface, she fisted a handful of black powder, swept around the table, and tossed it onto a ring of salt laid in the grass. The rotten egg stink of sulfur hit their noses, and Tobias gagged, pressing the extra woolly-pully over his mouth and nose.

“Sorry, Tobes,” Rai muttered. A twine-bound broom appeared in her hand, and she swept away the brimstone and salt, dispelling the ward and allowing them to enter. Before they could, she rushed forward, tugging Milla from Darkly’s arms and guiding her to the table. “Sit, drink.”

A cup of tea was shoved into her hands, and Milla wasted no time getting it down. The astringent burn brought tears to her eyes, and she recognized the green, celery-like taste of Angelica Root. Near immediately, her head cleared, and the wooziness from her Way dissipated.

“Keir, for you.” Rai finished packing the vape pen and pressed it into Darkly’s hand. “Larkspur, witch’s herb, dragon’s blood, and ava pepper.”

“Ava pepper?” He twirled the pen in his fingers, lifting a brow at Rai.

“I can’t find the comfrey.” She frowned at the table and her box of herbs. “It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.”

Milla’s mind tripped over the ingredients, recognizing most. Witch’s herb was basil, used to dispel confusion. Larkspur for health and dragon’s blood as the stimulant he requested. Ava pepper threw her, but comfrey was frequently used for protection during travel. Considering how skilled a vinefica Rai was, it was probably safe to assume she had used the spice as a substitute.

“I could put together something with mugwort or damiana...”

“Too distracting,” Darkly muttered around the pen, inhaling and unleashing a vapor cloud. “This’ll have tae do.”

Tobias shoved the wooly-pully into his free hand, glancing at Milla as he asked, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Gonnae have to be,” he replied, tugging the tactical sweater over his head.

“Does she know?” Tobias pressed.

Whatever Darkly replied, Milla did not hear it. Lou filled the space in front of her, eyes burning foglamp bright, her face pinched and angrier than she had ever seen the Light Witch.

“I told you to give them a minor display,” she said in a cold, furious voice. “Rot the flowers and move on, and you decided to hijack the entire ritual?”

“Goddess, let it go,” Milla said. “We needed to find the ritualists, so I did.”

“There are thousands of witches out there suffering the largest burnout this region has ever seen! There are rules in place, Ludmilla. Regulations and statutes we must abide by!”

“And there’s a pack of witches at that campground using my magick to summon something from beyond the Gates.” She thrust her phone in Lou’s face again, showing her the E.R.I.E. reading she had attuned to the ritualists.

“Fuck me, how are they still—are they warded?” Rai asked. The screen’s light illuminated the finer details of her face, and fear widened her eyes, giving just a hint of the whites. “Why is it increasing?”

“Better question, where is Donmar?” Milla tucked her phone away. “Why didn’t he call this in?”

“The campground is full of Staid,” Lou argued.

“Cultists?” Tobias offered. “They have been known to attempt rituals from time to time.”

“They could never manage a casting of this size,” said Lou. “It would—”

“What, burn them out?” Milla stood, bringing herself to her full height, which was still six inches short of being intimidating. “Can we get going before that thing gets here?”

She thrust her arm in the air, pointing to the brückengeist. Larger now, its limbs more defined. Lou’s nostrils flared, and she darted out both hands, grabbing Milla’s wrists and jerking them together. The empty teacup fell to the ground, and she barely caught herself as she was hauled forward. “ Dún .”

Darkly darted over to Milla. “Lou, stop.”

“It’s done, Keir.” She threw Milla’s wrists aside. The heavy weight of the binding had her stumbling two steps, but she waved Darkly off. “Goddess, you’ve made a mess of this.”

“Berate him later.” Rai appeared at Darkly’s side, tucking sachets into the pouches on his pants. “He needs to get over there if we’re to stand a chance of stopping this.”

“Just him?” Milla asked.

“It’s what he does,” Lou answered, putting herself between Milla and Darkly as she issued her orders. “Toby, you’re support. Head east-northeast, hold at twenty paces, and keep out of sight.” He nodded and darted away, breaking into a dead sprint across the now abandoned field. Lou turned to Darkly. “Keep to the Shade, drop within the wards. I’m no longer as concerned with assets as I am with stopping this ritual, whatever it takes.”

Darkly’s lips flattened to a line, and a flicker of disgust flashed over his features, there and gone. He nodded, closing his eyes when Rai slid her hand into his, interlocking their fingers and muttering under her breath in Cantonese.

Lou pressed her palm flat against the center of his chest where the sigil lay. “ Oscailte .”

Darkly shuddered, ripping his hand free from Rai’s. A surge of magick that far outweighed what he’d released on the mound shivered around him, and a rush of cool, spiced air followed when he exhaled as if the Dark Witch had just charged the air with ready Shades. Milla snapped her attention to Lou, following the line of her arm and where her palm was pressed, and realization struck her back a step.

“That wasn’t everything?” Goddess, what they had done, what they had achieved, and that was Darkly still bound?

“I’ve told you before, leannán. The Neitherworld is boundless.”

“Enough with the dramatics, Keir.” Lou stepped away, massaging her wrist. “That campground is just over a mile away. Donmar should still be there; anchor onto him if you can. Dear Goddess, I pray you can, and don’t fuck this up.”

“What about me?” Milla asked, which seemed redundant. She already knew Lou’s answer and had already come up with a reply.

“What about you?” Lou summoned an e-grim to hand, tapping furiously on the screen. “Put some clothes on and let the grown-ups work.”

“Lou,” Darkly warned. He formed a sigil with his left hand, pressing it against the air. This time, now that she was looking for it, Milla felt the fabric of the world stretch and tear. Black smoke exploded from the Neitherworld, churning as a self-contained mass.

“Go. Now. ”

“Hold up, he’s going by himself?” Milla moved toward Darkly, only to be cut off by his sister.

“Correct,” she said.

“Like hell he is.”

“Milla, please.” Darkly slid his fingers through hers, intending to give her a, what, goodbye handshake? “This is my job.”

“One he’d rather you not witness,” Lou added. “Keir, so help me, Goddess, if that thing steps into our world, I’ll cleave you myself.” She jerked her chin at the brückengeist, now sporting seven fingers on each hand. “ Go. ”

The air behind Darkly churned, and he rotated his wrist, widening the Way and preparing to step through. Body, Shade, and Soul; a piece of him already lost to the dark.

Which meant there was only one thing she could do. It was a bad idea for countless reasons, considering what and who waited out there, but the phone at her hip kept buzzing, and if that meant what she suspected it did, then where he was going was where she needed to be.

His fingers twitched in hers as he tried to pull away, so Milla clutched the front of the wooly-pully, popped onto her toes, and hauled his mouth to hers.

Intent she’d not traveled in years flared in her mind as if it had been waiting for her all this time. His arms banded around her on reflex, and she clawed her hands at the back of Darkly’s head, swallowing his surprise with her mouth and dragging the witch flush against her. His magick strained to join with hers, and the fabric of the world tore further. Milla pushed off of her toes, tipping them both backward. The ground rushed towards them—

—and Milla and her Dark Witch plummeted through roiling black clouds.

Shrieks and howls pierced her ears like shards of ice, deafening her to Darkly’s shout. Wind tore at her macramé vest and turned her hair into vicious whips lashing her cheeks and neck.

They fell forever and for no time at all, rocketing into the depths of a boundless expanse. Milla wrapped her arms and legs around him like a clingy koala bear and held on tight. The last time she had done this there was no Dark Witch, and the Shades had bent to her command. Now, they rioted against her presence.

It was less a fight and more an internal brawl to control the terror of falling into nothing in the arms of a Horned God-damned Living Shade.

She thought of the Bridge of Lions, of two laps around the track at Flagler, and of a quiet street in a village near ?esky-Krumlov where a black-and-white dog had once run, relying on all of her old tricks to force the boundless expanse into something that could be overcome by sheer will alone.

The formless black billowed around Darkly as he slowed their descent and positioned himself to land on his feet. Milla buried her face in his chest, the wool from his sweater tickling her nose, the hex-resistance patch over his heart burning against her cheek. One of his hands moved to the back of her head, forcing Milla to look up at him. She was too focused to fight him and too busy trying not to scream to care about the death glare he sent her. Which, by the way, not fair. Death-anything was her whole deal.

His left arm shot out, fingers dancing in wild sigils, and solidity formed beneath her feet as if they had never been falling at all.

Darkly yanked her arms away and staggered back, separating them in the nothing, which was a terrible idea. Any Death Witch worth her Way knew that. But maybe Darkly didn’t. He did seem surprised to see her here, so it was safe to assume that maybe, no, he did not know it was a bad idea to separate from the living when they wandered into the Neitherworld.

His black eyes bugged wide like marbles, and then he darted forward to grab her arm with both hands as if afraid she’d vanish before his eyes.

So maybe he did know.

“ What!? ” He shouted at her. Smoke curled out of his mouth, and Milla almost felt bad for the poor thing. It was not his fault he was in a coma the last time she did this.

“Hey.” She wafted a tiny smile and waggled her fingers in greeting. He sputtered and tightened his grip on her arm. “Which way?”

“ What? ” he repeated.

“Which way?” She pointed all around. “Where do we go? Can you find Donmar?”

That knocked the shock right out of him. Darkly stared at her for a beat, then slid his gaze to the side, expression going somber. He blinked and shook his head, then tried again. “Cannae.”

“Yikes.” Milla widened her mouth into a grimace. “Let me try.” Taking a deep breath that came with more rattle than she was comfortable with, she dropped into her latent magick and let the Forbidden and Foule summoning call to her across the void. A chasm opened in her mind’s eye, tearing off into the distance. Milla jerked her arm out of Darkly’s grip, grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the left. “This way.”

“ What? ” He asked again, and Milla ignored him again. Something silken brushed her legs in greeting, and she shuddered to a halt. “ What are you— ”

“Seriously, if you can’t think of something else to say, this is going to be a terrible time.”

“ Here. What are you doing here is what I was going to say. ”

“My job, obviously. Lou hauled me out of the cells, and you bottled yourself, idiot, to catch these ritualists. So, we’re catching the ritualists. Catch up.” She rolled her eyes and resumed her stomp. Or tried to. Darkly did not move, which meant Milla made it all of one step. She tugged, and still, he did not relinquish a single inch. “Ugh, Darkly don’t make me drag you out of here.”

That struck something in the witch. He shook his head rapidly, taking a half-step back, which, come on , was not the aim. Only this time, when he repeated his new favorite catchphrase, it came with a sense of startled awe. “ What? ”

Whatever had struck him in her words was enough to jolt the witch into action. He cast one last confused glance at Milla, then stared out across the nothing, nodding, taking her hand, and breaking into a run.

Hand in hand, they crossed the formless expanse. Darkly following some internal compass only he possessed as the master of his demesne, while Milla was drawn to the Foule magick bleeding across the boundary of worlds.

“ There, ” Darkly pointed after what felt like half a mile, that voice guiding Milla’s eyes. “ This might hurt. You. Or it might not. No way to tell. ”

He flicked his wrist, withdrawing an obsidian blade from nowhere. Stabbing the haze above their heads, he sheared a hole in the air, dropped Milla’s hand, and stepped through without a glance back.

“Right.” Milla pulled her lips tight, steeling herself for what came next. This had been the hardest part to learn, and from everything Milla put herself through for that ritual with Ezra, the most useful tool in her arsenal. It would take everything she had, everything she was, but it was a latent skill tied into her very being.

She had almost done this in Marie’s hall when a circle of salt kept her from Darkly and again in her living room just before Lou arrived. Unlike each of those times, this was Milla alone, and there was no avoiding what came next.

Burrowing down, she dove as deep as she could into the kernel of heat that was her Way. Not in her arms, not pooling in her hands. This was Milla at her core, the defining magick that made her a Death Witch. It was latent.

She muttered a one-hundred percent illegal hex. Her vision tunneled, her limbs went numb, and her body teetered forward through the churning mass of clouds.