Page 22 of Summer of Sacrifice

“Of course I am!” Sorscha spat, slapping the journal meant for her onto the tabletop. “It’s all fun and games searching through old junk in the bottom of a cave, but shite just got real again.” She gestured wildly at the journal. “Am I the only one scared out of their damned mind right now?”

“No.” Asa put a hand on the small of her back. “You’re not alone, Sorscha.”

She gave him a grateful smile, and Winnie added, “We’re all scared, Sister.”

Grimm cleared his throat. “Winnie is right. We’re all terrified, Sorscha. Chresedia, or whatever in Hades we want to call her these days, has been sucking the magic out of witches and mages for goddess knows how long and collecting their bodies to reanimate them. And we’re the rag-tag team that has to stop her.” He laughed darkly. “It’s fucking terrifying.”

Seleste summoned her journal and laid it on the table next to Sorscha’s. “All the more reason to get these figured out so we can do what needs to be done right now.”

Winnie nodded, and her journal appeared to meet theirs. Aggie gently pulled hers out of an oversized pocket in her skirt and slid it in place.

Seleste moved to spell them all open, selecting a careful incantation that would sort through and find any similarities and open to them. But the journals shot open simultaneously with such force that the smack of their covers on the table cracked through the room. They all looked blankly at one another until Asa spoke, outing himself as the culprit.

“Can we get on with this? Sorscha clearly needs a rest.” He looked at her, brow low and mouth in a grim line. “And probably food. Have you eaten today?”

Offence and annoyance contorted Sorscha’s features into a dark scowl. “Um, now is not the time, general.”

Gaius squirmed in his seat. “Sorscha, if you’re not eating…”

“Oh, my fucking goddess!” She threw her hands in the air. “Can all the men leave this room? Gods!”

Grimm ran a hand through his hair and stood with a lopsided grin. “That idea isn’t half bad. Gentlemen, shall we?”

The three of them stalked out, Asa cursing under his breath. When the door clicked shut behind them, Arielle put a hand on Aggie’s arm. “Should I go, too? This seems like a Sister moment.”

“No,” Seleste decided for them all, which earned her three sets of raised brows. Aggie’s in amused respect, Winnie’s in shock at her interference, and Sorscha’s in unadulterated amusement. And exhaustion. Asa was right. Sorscha needed a rest. “Arielle, I just witnessed your immense gift in the catacombs. We both know you could be of great help.”

“Not to mention,” Aggie interjected, “that you were there with Chresedia and Grimm in her compound.” Seleste watched curiously as Aggie’s cheeks coloured. “I also…have a favour to ask now that we are all together without interference.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything I can.”

“First things first, I agree with Seleste. You’re our best hope of sorting these journals out.”

Sorscha pinched the bridge of her nose. “But she can’t even see?—”

“Gods-dammit, Sorscha!” Aggie shot to her feet. “Shut your mouth if you can’t say something helpful.”

“I wasn’t trying to be an arse, Aggie!” Her magic shot out, and picked up her journal, slapping it back down on the table again. “But they’re pictures.”

“Stop it,” Winnie snarled. “The both of you.”

Neither Aggie nor Winnie nor Sorscha noticed Arielle standing and making her way to the open journals, her fingers gingerly tracing the images on the pages.

GRIMM

The sandstone and rock temple that Gaius called the healing abbey was a thing of myths. An incomprehensible number of candles littered the cathedral-high walls, their flames never once threatening the copious amount of plant life making up one entire wall and most of the ceiling. As they walked through the halls, Asa spoke briefly with no less than seven people, three of which seemed to be healers and four of which seemed to be patients on the mend—all of which were wearing the plain, matching clothing Sorscha never stopped complaining about.

Veering off into another corridor, Grimm caught the familiar scent of alchemical experimentation. A wave of memory assaulted him: Gaius bent over his desk in the lighthouse, Gaius droning on about this compound mixed with the other, Ludwig quizzing them both late into the night as young men…

Gaius ushered them into a cluttered alchemy chamber, and Grimm slid his hands into his pockets, leaning on the edge of a table. “This is the place that stole you away, hm?”

Gaius grinned wide enough to crack Grimm’s decrepit heart. He’d never seen his friend so happy.

“I’m not certain what it is exactly, but I feel I’ve known this way of life since before I was born. All through the Spring, travelling as a nomad and tinkering in a laboratory in Eldritch…” He shook his head, running a finger along a few of his beakers with a lover’s touch. “I was so conflicted. I felt so lost because I wanted both things.”

Asa grunted from the corner, nodding in what seemed like approval. “Quite the fit, then.”

“And the way you look at Arielle?” Grimm goaded his friend despite already knowing precisely how Gaius felt about Arielle. It was written all over them both.

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