Nick was going to die. He’d given me his story. He’d offered me his love. And even though he was about to fall with a stake in his heart, I loved him back.
There was magic in that thought.
I. Loved. Nicholas Raines.
Power exploded in my mind. Energy rocketed through my body. A primal force filled me like Hecate’s grace, like the spirit of the goddess that pervaded every spell I’d ever cast.
I didn’t bother with the offering, with touching my head, my throat, my heart. Hecate was in me; Hecate was me. She knew the purity of the ancient magic I offered.
I raised my hands overhead, pointing my fingers at the Gnome King’s axe. I targeted the oaken shaft that was impossibly still tumbling, still driving toward my beloved’s heart.
“Dark shies!” I shouted, ripping my throat with the words. “Light vies, clear eyes,” I barely formed the syllables, frantic to reach the ones that mattered, the ones that sealed the spell. “Fire rise!”
The axe burst into flame.
Not just the shaft, not just the oaken stake. The blades burned too, iron melting in an eldritch fire. The entire scorching weapon crashed against Nick’s chest, shattering on impact.
His leather jacket shed debris as if it were made of glass. The remnants of the battle axe dropped onto the grass beneath him, greedy flames seeking a purchase.
I swayed toward the fire, drawn by the magic I’d released. A dam had burst inside me, and I was tumbling forward, harvesting the sudden power.
I spread my arms wide and invoked the goddess who made all witchcraft possible:
“Mother Hecate, wise and strong
To yourself I do belong.
Keep me safe, all danger bar,
Destroy all threats, both near and far.
As you shelter me ’neath your veil
My love for you will never fail.”
My love for Hecate. My love for Nick. Love gave me the power to turn upon the Gnome King.
I hadn’t brought my tools—crystals or herbs or sacred athame with its double cutting blade. But we were standing in nature, beneath a cloudless sky.
I stretched my fingers toward the nearest cenotaph, the sandstone marker that honored the dead. Sandstone had the power of increasing concentration. It showed the seeker truth amid darkness.
My mother had taught me the power of sandstone before I’d ever set foot in the magicarium. Even when she rocked me in my cradle, she whispered of crystals and gemstones, of rocks that formed the backbone of the world. She’d based her magic in stone, the magic she’d lost for me. I could never forget the power she yearned for, the forces she’d once worked.
Now, I extended my senses into the cenotaph. I drew its innate energy into me. I let it open my eyes, granting me clear vision as I sought to fight my enemies. Looking upon the cemetery, I saw everything under a silvery light, the same eldritch glow that had consumed the Gnome King’s double-edged axe.
Nick shone in the darkness, his rugged face lean and terrible as he sprang upon the king. Strength rippled off him, coursing through his shoulders, down his back, flowing over his thighs and calves and feet. He was a vampire warrior in his prime, trained to fight, granted extraordinary physical power. He threw back his head, and his fangs sparked in the moonlight.
I’d kindled my magic with the fire spell. I’d stoked it higher by invoking Hecate. I’d burst it into full flame by embracing the sandstone’s power.
Each use of magic doubled my reserve. I thrust my energy toward the marble angel who’d sheltered me, drawing on the crystalline structure of her sculpted face, her body, her gown and wings. The inherent qualities of marble cascaded back to me, echoing my mother’s knowledge. Marble was stolid protection and safety and security.
I gathered the marble’s energy to cast a ring around our battle. Before I could say the words, though, before I could force the magic, I felt another surge of power. This one was a familiar flood, one I’d drawn on for more than a dozen years. I glanced beyond Nick and the Gnome King, past the dozen elemental warriors near the deep-gouged trench.
Rebecca Sartain stood at the far edge of the pit. Her sword glowed blue in the moonlight. Her body shimmered with warder’s magic, with the force that had allowed her to reach to me, even though I’d ordered her from my side, even though I’d rejected her assistance.
“Becs!” I thought, conveying a thousand emotions in a single syllable. I’m sorry. I missed you. I love you. I love Nick. I need… I need… I need…
She knew what I needed. Her warder’s magic merged with the milky marble band I’d gathered. She touched the border with the tip of her sword, casting a circle sacred to Hecate. She shielded mundane eyes from any glimpse of the magic I was working. She had my back, and I didn’t need to waste another second thinking about the outside world.
Kneeling, I scooped up handfuls of barley and corn, the fake “drugs” I’d brought to buy some time. Perhaps Hecate had guided my hands as I raided Natasha’s kitchen, because the grains were traditional offerings to the guardians of earth, long tied to the magic of those elementals.
I closed my eyes and felt the subtle, satisfying energy of the harvest. I extended my own roiling magic, feeding it to the scattered seeds. I took one breath, another, and I pushed my power outward.
A wall of green and gold surged into being. Corn stalks rose higher than my head, heavy with thick ears of corn. Barley waved at my knees, each plant topped with a fistful of grain.
The gnomes stumbled through the sudden crops, blinded by the unexpected tangle of stalks and leaves. Half the warriors slid into the tunnel they’d created between the graves, tumbling back to the earthen depths from which they’d sprung. They scrambled to climb out of the trench, but panic made them clumsy. A few turned tail and disappeared completely beneath the earth.
The grains’ sudden growth doubled my magic again, filling my heart and lungs. I thrummed with power. I was filled with potential. I cast about for more tools, for weapons I could use.
There were oak trees beyond the edges of my marble circle. With Becs’s aid, I could break the barrier and retrieve the wood, ancient symbol of strength and stability, of health and potency and all good luck.
But oak could be fashioned into stakes. I dared not trust the magic of cornered gnomes. I couldn’t assume I could spare Nick’s heart a second time.
Iron, then. It was trapped in the hinges of the angel’s mausoleum door. I drew on the metal, on its strength and durability. Iron was drawn from the earth, but it was tamed by fire, tempered by water, cooled by air. Iron was more powerful than any one of the elements alone.
I spun its power inside my mind, drawing out a constant, steady thread. I wove the iron, over and under, forcing its shape with my magic. I thinned it and spread it and cast it into a perfect untangled net.
Throwing a desperate glance to the far side of my marble circle, I found Nick and the Gnome King scrabbling in the earth. The elemental’s heels beat against the ground, a jerking tattoo as he fought for a purchase. Nick bent over the arch of his throat, drinking deeply.
I stiffened my wrists, commanding my iron web to rise above the earth. I tilted my hands and directed it toward the tunnel. I tested it with my mind, tugging, stretching, making sure it could do all that I required.
Ancient lessons that I’d mastered in the magicarium rippled beneath my work. Iron was strong. Iron was durable. But those virtues came with a cost. Iron was heavy. It was binding. It pulled even the strongest worker down.
My shoulders shook under the weight of the net I’d woven. My body trembled with the strain. I tried to cry out, but my throat was stretched, my jaw locked.
Nick! I thought, with all the power and the passion we had shared—in my bed, in his bed, on a forested mountaintop beneath the stars.
He pulled back from his prey. Turning his head, he instantly read my intention. Without hesitation, he kicked the Gnome King into the trench between the graves.
I dropped the iron net over the gash in the ground. It crushed the towering cornstalks and trampled the waving barley. It broke the marble circle, sending shards of milky light sparking across the cemetery. With the sound of a thousand prison doors slamming shut, the gaping earth folded in upon itself, closing the gash and filling the hole.
The Gnome King and his army were gone.
Becs rushed forward, but Nick reached me first. His arms closed around me as darkness filled my mind.