I cradled my head in my hands, sitting in my shop. Erasmus was talking but I barely heard him over the goddammed hunger.
“A wendigo. An Algonquin creature made from the ravages of famine, and from those who indulged in the eating of human flesh.”
“I know. I know. Stop talking about it.”
He stopped pacing and stood over me. “Kylie. Tell me. Do you feel a desire for—”
“Shut up!” I jumped to my feet. I absolutely could not be craving that.
“It’s not you. It’s the monster that is doing this to you. It’s not you.”
“It sure feels like me.” I grabbed him and was filled with relief that he had no fear in his eyes. “I need a spell. A magical cure. Something to dull this. I might be dangerous if I don’t get something.”
“You’re right of course. I shall get Doctor Boone.” He vanished.
I sank back into the chair. I actually felt marginally better. Maybe it was because help was on the way. Or maybe…because there was no one there to tempt me.
Because—God help me—I wanted to…to…
This was what it must be for Erasmus every day, every hour. To not want to hurt the person you cared about and at the same time crave their very flesh, not to love, but to feast upon.
How fucked up was that?
It might have been ten minutes. Maybe more. But the air displacement made me raise my head and there was Doc. He seemed a little befuddled at the transport but nonetheless delighted. He had his doctor bag, books, and other things bundled in his arms, looking as if he were about to drop it all.
“Don’t you worry, Kylie,” he said in calming tones. But all I could think about was chomping down on that thick, beard-stubbled neck of his. I closed my eyes, hoping it might help. But I could smell him—a blend of spicy aftershave, sweat, and skin. In my agitated state, the skin smell was the strongest.
“Just hurry, Doc,” I gasped out.
He took his things to the kitchen. I heard the clank of an iron cauldron, the distinct sound of herbs being chopped, liquid being poured, and then the sharp scent of some kind of oil. He came bustling in again. The fireplace whooshed and I opened my eyes to watch the flames. Doc put the cauldron over the fire, and I focused my eyes on that. Until my gaze slid toward him.
I didn’t remember standing up. I only sort of awakened when Erasmus grabbed my arms and said my name, in that smoky way of his.
“Kylie.”
“What? Oh my God.” I sat again, covering my face with my hands.
After what seemed like an interminable time of Doc muttering over the cauldron in true warlock fashion, he grabbed the cauldron from the fire with an oven mitt and set it on the hearth. With a ladle, he poured the liquid into a cup made of steer horn. His hand shook when he stretched it toward me.
“What is it?” I said softly, not looking at the skin of his hand, the sprouts of white hair, the spots and freckles.
“Well, it’s a mixture of chickweed, licorice root, green tea, and fennel…with a spell or two over it. That should keep you until you get rid of that creature.”
I noticed he stepped way back by the hearth again.
I didn’t bother smelling it. I tipped it back and drank down the whole thing. Keeping my eyes closed, I waited.
Something warred inside me. The stuff tasted awful, and at first, I thought I would be sick. But I soon realized that wasn’t it. Something was trying to overtake the potion, a back and forth of forces fighting for dominance. But Doc’s magic wouldn’t seem to let the other win.
All at once, there was sweet, blessed relief. A bit of hunger still lingered in the back of my mind, but it was nothing like it had been before. Nothing like when I wanted to jump Doc and sink my teeth into his flesh and tear and rip. The appetite for people was gone and only a vague sense of hunger remained.
“Oh, thank God!” I let the tears flow. “Thank you, Doc. It’s way better. You’re safe.”
He visibly relaxed. “Well now. That…is an interesting symptom.”
I wiped my face. The relief was amazing. I inhaled and couldn’t smell him! “It’s only because we’re getting closer to Halloween. The Booke is getting stronger. It’s pulling power from the ley lines, from Halloween itself. It’s dragging me in.” I slumped back in my chair. “We have to stop the Booke for good. And you have to help me do it. The whole coven does.”
“What can we do, Kylie? Mr. Dark here says that—”
“We can. We just have to convince Satan to destroy it.”
Doc just stared at me. Then he looked at Erasmus, who was bubbling over with anger. “Did I, uh, hear you right?”
I rubbed my forehead. Reality was sort of getting away from me. “Yeah. There really is a Satan, and he’s apparently the Netherworld’s boss.”
Doc turned to Erasmus. “Mr. Dark…”
“I told her this would be utter folly. That it would be outrageously dangerous.”
We locked gazes. “But it’s the only way.”
“Is that true, Mr. Dark? Can he destroy the book for good?”
He clenched his teeth. “Yes. But as with all denizens of the Netherworld, there will be a price.”
“What price?” I asked.
Erasmus flung himself to his knees before me. “Kylie, this is no mere thing you ask. He will know the cost of this to you, to his own plans. He will exact the highest price.”
“My soul?”
“Yes.”
How did Erasmus do it? How did he curb his cravings for my soul? Perhaps love was stronger than fate. And I’d had a bitter taste of the same, needing a potion to stop me.
I knew at that moment, that in the future, if the Booke were allowed to go on, there would be a point where I couldn’t overcome whatever was coming for me. It was really only a matter of time. I might have lasted longer than all the other Chosen Hosts before me, but I was dancing on a razor’s edge. I couldn’t do it forever. I was so weary of fighting the Booke’s pull, of the oblivion that was to come. What was a soul compared to that?
“Okay, then.”
“What?” He grabbed me, his face only inches from mine. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Erasmus, I’m tired. I already figured out a long time ago that I’m not…I mean, my coven and you, and Jeff and Ed…you’ve all kept me alive so far. But it’s only a matter of time.”
“Kylie.” His strange choking voice stabbed me right in the heart. He pulled me in, embraced me tight, almost too tight, as if protecting me from an inevitability.
“Don’t you see? It was never going to end well. Even though you decided not to take my soul, it was still forfeit all along.”
“No,” he whispered. His breathing was harsh in my ear and his coat began to smolder.
“It has to stop, Erasmus. No one else should go through this. It has to stop.”
He held me for a long time, and I welcomed it. I closed my eyes and felt his arms, his warmth, smelled his smoky scent. Listened as the leather of his coat squeaked and strained.
Finally, he pulled back and looked at me, hands on my face, thumbs caressing my cheeks. “I can’t let you.”
“You have to.” But it then washed over me. I didn’t care what happened to me, but the end of the Booke meant the end of him too.
I drew back, eyes roving over those familiar features. “I forgot.”
“It’s not for me that I worry.”
“Erasmus…what are we going to do?”
“Now,” said Doc thoughtfully, “we might be able to find a way around all that, young lady.”
I raised my head wearily, perhaps out of habit. “Why do you say that?”
“Because we have our coven, darn it. And so far, there hasn’t been anything we can’t do. I’m counting on that. Let’s get them together and find a solution, like we always do.”
I agreed, of course. But in the back of my mind, I didn’t hold much hope.