Page 48 of Summer of Sacrifice

Athania tipped her head back and cackled as if she was enjoying his vice-like grip of shadow clasping itself around her neck just as much as she was enjoying his torment and confusion.

“That’s right. Our kind, caring, fool of a goddess, Lady Magie de la Nuit, gave me a vein of her own power. And we both know where that came from.”

This monster of a woman carried a kernel of Primordial magic, not just power bestowed upon a witch bloodline. No. NO.

Thanasim shifted back into his godly form, hands shaking. It couldn’t be. Asteria would never have trusted anyone with that kernel of magic given to her by Hespa. She couldn’t… Because if she had, if what Athania said was true…

“Utter pandemonium,” Athania whispered as her heightened magic—stolen from creatures imbued with power that came from Asteria—gathered around her in a sea of red sparks. “We both know that when your darling Asteria was reborn as Lady Magic, Hespa set all magic within her. The Goddess Three gave it to her to bestow from that point forward.”

Athania walked a circle around him like he were the prey and she the huntress. Never had he wanted to rip someone’s throat out more. But she was right, he could not. It would have cataclysmic effects…

“And sweet Asteria gave me a vein of that original, Primordial Source of Magic.” She tipped her head back and breathed deeply before exhaling and smiling with cruelty. “I don’t have what she does. I cannot be reborn and keep it. And she no longer houses the entirety of the Source under her protection. That means if I die, so does magic. And all the creatures with that power wrapped around their souls will die too.” A crack echoed down the alley as she clapped her hands together. “A pity, really.”

Despite his vision going spotted with rage, Thanasim only let cool calculation play across his features. He knew exactly what must be done. Goddess help him.

Thirteen coils of his power leeched from the shadows, swimming toward Athania too quickly for her to react. They seeped into her eyes, nose, mouth, choking her screams out.

Asteria, he bellowed in the bond, bind this witch to us. Hurry. Do it now.

With Athania gagging and thrashing, Asteria appeared next to Thanasim, aglow with all the magic she possessed. He knew she could see his plan with stark clarity, just as easily as he could see her rapid pulse at the hollow of her neck.

You’re certain? She looked at him with tears glistening in her eyes.

I see no other way.

Asteria lifted her hands, light shooting forth to twine around his shadow vines, chanting her spell until the alleyway glowed.

“Throw her,” Asteria hissed when the spell was complete. All their fates sealed like a fucking tomb.

Thanasim roared, launching forward and plunging his hand into Athania’s sternum. Together, they half-materialised in the space between the Netherrealm and Life, and he threw her into another realm, where magic was already all but extinct.

“Grimm!” She was shaking him. He was sitting on the ground, covered in dirt and dead leaves. “Thank the gods,” she breathed when his eyes met hers.

Woozy, he stood, taking Agatha’s hand to centre himself. “I know what happened.” The words sounded far away. He felt far away. “And I know know what we have to do next.”

Seleste, Then

SELESTE

She was glad for the coolness of the lemonade jar. Not only because it was sweltering outside, but because there was a flutter of butterflies madly flitting within her abdomen. It was something Seleste hadn’t felt in at least a century—not where a man was concerned, anyway.

She touched her fingertips to the moisture collecting on the outside of the glass and dabbed it on either side of her neck to cool herself. Then, she stood straighter and knocked on the door of Lord Bardot’s châlet, ignoring the fact that this private, unchaperoned meeting was grossly inappropriate for someone within the beau monde.

The thud of his footsteps against floorboards could be heard even through the door. It swung open, and Seleste tried not to notice how handsome he looked in his waistcoat and shirt, the top two buttons at his neck undone and sleeves rolled up to stave off the heat. He smiled at her, and a rush of panic shot up from her toes.

“Lemonade!” she blurted by way of greeting, thrusting the jar out toward him. The lid must not have been screwed on properly, because it popped off and lemonade sloshed onto Lord Bardot’s waistcoat. “Oh my…” Selest gasped and covered her mouth.

Smooth, she could almost hear Aggie snigger while Sorscha drawled, Maybe he’ll take off that shirt now, and Winnie tisked, You shouldn’t be there at all.

But Lord Bardot chuckled, sending all the butterflies in her stomach to swooping. Part of her hadn’t been sure this stoic man ever laughed.

“No apologies necessary. It will only help cool me off.” He took the jar from her still-extended hand and stepped aside, gesturing toward his small Summer home. “Please, come in.”

Seleste obliged, eternally grateful a blush would not show on her as easily as it would on Winnie’s fair cheeks. “I’m not usually so clumsy,” she murmured, looking around aimlessly for a towel.

“It’s nothing.” He left the door open, for propriety’s sake she assumed, and set the lemonade on his table. “Thank you for this.”

“I brought you blueberry biscuits as well. She smiled and pulled the wrapped bundle out of her apron pocket. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it to teatime today.”

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