Page 10 of Ivy & Bone

But to his surprise, she matched his expression with a grin of her own. “I’d like to see you try.”

For a moment, they glared at each other in a silent battle of will. But Cyrus had to admit she had the upper hand. As long as he was contained within this circle, he couldn’t do anything. Despite how his fury churned within him, demanding him to end this witch’s existence, he sighed and said, “If you’re only going to make useless requests of me, you might as well send me back.”

The witch gritted her teeth. “You’re not going anywhere until you bring her back.”

“I am not some demon you can summon at your will and pleasure. I am the god of the dead, and you will treat me with respect.”

“Really.” She crossed her arms and smirked. “Because it seems to me that I can summon you at my will and pleasure.”

Cyrus had had enough of this. He called upon his icy cold power, letting it flood his chest and rise higher and higher. Then, he unleashed his black flames. Even if he couldn’t cross the summoning circle, perhaps he could frighten her into submission. Or lure her closer so he could scorch her.

But the flames that burned within him suddenly . . . died. As if someone had doused the fire with a bucket of water. Shock rippled through him, and he went very still, his insides feeling just as empty as the last time he’d been in the mortal realm.

The satisfaction in the woman’s eyes brightened. “Looking for this?” She lifted one arm, and black flames—Cyrus’s black flames—erupted from her fingertips.

TRUTH

PRUE

Prue honestly hadn’t expected to channel the devil’s magic.

But when his anger had brimmed, she’d felt it swelling inside her, too. And her magic had known there was another presence lingering inside her. It felt exhilarating. And terrifying.

“What’s your name?” she asked him. The more she watched him, the more she realized he seemed younger than she’d anticipated. His silver hair had been misleading; he had no facial hair or wrinkles, and his voice, while deep, lacked the gravelly undertones of old age.

“Cyrus,” he said, then clamped his mouth shut, his eyes widening slightly. He quickly masked his expression into something apathetic, but not before Prue caught sight of the alarm in his face.

He couldn’t lie to her. He was bound to answer her questions. Good. At least that aspect of the spell was working.

“Cyrus as in . . . Osiris?” Prue asked.

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” he snarled.

Prue laughed. “And you’re a prickly one, aren’t you?”

“You don’t work with the dead for thousands of years without getting a bit prickly,” Cyrus said, his luminescent, silvery eyes gleaming. “That darkness becomes a part of you.”

Prue crossed her arms, trying to ignore the rising panic inside her. How much longer did she have before one of the witches found her? Had Mona provided her distraction yet? What if the veil closed before Cyrus could bring her back?

She took a deep breath and said, “So, will you help me? Or will I have to coerce you?”

Cyrus’s expression took on a hungry glint. A challenge. She regretted her words instantly as she realized he would love nothing more than for her to try.

She summoned his black flames again, igniting her forearm with the inky, rippling waves of fire. “Let’s not forget that I have magic. And you don’t.”

“Exactly why I can’t help you,” Cyrus said, spreading his arms. “How do you expect me to raise the dead when you’ve taken my powers?”

Prue smiled and retracted the flames, still amazed that her arm didn’t feel hot at all. “Give me your word you’ll do as I say, and I’ll release you from the circle.”

Cyrus clenched his teeth, and a muscle worked in his jaw. Fury blazed in his eyes. “No.” The word seemed wrenched from him, almost by force.

Prue almost laughed again. “I knew it.”

Cyrus swore. “How are you doing this? How are you making me respond?”

“You and I are bound, Cyrus. It’s how I can use your powers.” Prue lifted the pomegranate seed hanging around her neck. “Earth magic.”

Cyrus squinted at the necklace, then glanced down at the pomegranate seeds lining the pentagram. He crouched, leaning over and sniffing deeply.

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