Page 91 of The Unweaver

Their hands joined around the rotting corpse. Lazlo’s bony fingers on her left and Bane’s long fingers on her right. Bane’s thumb stroked her jumping pulse, and she shot him a dubious look.

“Close your eyes,” Lazlo said in a sonorous voice. “Whatever you hear, whatever pain you feel, whatever your mind screams for, do not look or let go. To do otherwise invites certain death.”

Cora forced her eyes shut, clutching their hands in a bone-crunching grip as the Sciomancer chanted in a long-dead tongue.

Something hummed in response, low and resonant. Something that seemed to surround Cora and percolate into her skin. She had a fierce urge to run. It took all her willpower not to move.

The hum grew into a roar that swelled into a gale blasting through the room. Her hair and clothes whipped around her. The walls rattled and jars crashed to the buckling floor.

Strobing pulses of blinding light pierced her eyelids, making her eyes water. She had never wanted to blink so desperately. To open her eyes and look upon the beasts unseen, stalking ever closer.

Lazlo’s voice was tinny in the tempest. His chant broke off with a pained gasp. “The— the block is too— too—”

The wind died. In its place, Cora felt a dark presence settle over them, teeming withwrongness. Like a snarling creature, snapping its fangs in her face, fanning her with its foul breath, putrid and sulfurous. Burning cold skittered across her nerves. Pain sank its teeth into her bones.

“Wrong!” Lazlo bellowed.

Screams. Someone was screaming. Bloodcurdling screams that rent the still air.My screams, she realized as another tore out of her throat. The room echoed with shouts and guttural cries. Around the pentagram, everyone was immersed in their own internal torture. Bane gripped her hand tighter, an anchor in the storm.

“Wrong.” Groaning, Lazlo’s grip slackened and he slumped forward. Cora yanked him upright, her eyes still screwed shut, teeth clenched against another anguished cry.

The strobing and snarling ceased. For a second there was only the vacuum of silence. Then a thousand tiny spears slipped between Cora’s ribs and seeped their poison. A distillation of wrongness that funneled into her heart until it overflowed. She choked on a cry, unable to breathe as dark magic poured inside her.

The wrongness paced the bars of her ribcage, clicking its long nails.

Death, it growled through the sutures of her thoughts.Feed.

The spears retreated with the sound of a dead weight dropping.Lazlo. Her eyes flew open. The Sciomancer, face creased in agony, had collapsed and the room was in ruins. His bloodshot eyes spun around as he babbled incoherently. Whatever devilry had occurred, it had drained the ancient mage of his energy and sanity.

Bane rushed over and knelt beside him. Clamping an arm around Lazlo for support, Bane helped him sit up and whispered soothing words, wiping the sweat from his pale brow.

Cora’s gaze snapped to Teddy. He looked atrocious. No different from before. She didn’t know whether that meant the ritual was a success or failure, and Lazlo was in no place to answer. Giddy despair filled her.

A cry drew her attention. Ravi was weeping on the floor with his head in his hands and Anita at his side. The women’sgazes met over his bent head. The hell they had been through was etched on their faces. Anita offered Ravi a hand up, and he struggled to his feet. Cora roped an arm around his back to steady him.

Sniffling, Ravi turned to thank her when he realized who—what—held him. He flinched and fled to the opposite corner with a terrified, backward glance. Cora watched him go, feeling hollow.

Bane carried Lazlo like a wrinkly child swaddled in a patched cloak. “Anita, take Teddy’s body back to the club. See that it’s preserved. The club will be packed from New Year’s Eve. Make sure Sloane shadow cloaks you. Then have yourselves a bottle or five of the best champagne behind the bar and I’ll see you in a week.”

Anita released a relieved breath. “Right-o, Mal.”

Bile rose in Cora’s throat as she watched Ravi float her decaying brother out of sight, Anita following them out. Bane carried Lazlo to the library and Cora trailed after like a ghost. Gingerly, he set Lazlo in the wingback chair before the fireplace. The old man seemed to sink within himself. Bane poured everyone a tall glass of spirits. Cora drank hers without tasting it.

“Here you are, old friend.” Bane tipped the glass to Lazlo’s quivering lips. “Easy does it.”

Lazlo’s wits returned one sip at a time. When he finished the glass, his eyes were clearer, though he still slumped with weariness.

“Did it…” Her throat constricted. “Did it work?”

Lazlo gave a tired nod. “It did.”

Exultation surged in her chest.It worked!All that was left was to break the curse and reunite the fractured pieces of him.

Her cheer took a nosedive when she caught their expressions.

Lazlo’s gaze settled heavily on Bane. “It is much worse than expected, Mal.”

Bane glanced at Cora’s crumbling features and poured her another drink. “Go on, Lazlo.”

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