Page 70 of House of Malice
Using her athame, Octavia slashed the witch’s wrists and throat, blood pouring over her dark clothing and onto the gravel under their feet. The metallic scent filled the air around them, but none of them stopped chanting.
The girl was now limp in Alatar’s and Rufus’ arms, her head lolling from side to side while Octavia tore through the front of her top and sliced ritual runes on her skin.
Their magic wasn’t visible. You couldn’t see it; you could only feel it, taste it, and sometimes smell it. But as their chants continued, the crystal cluster in Octavia’s hand glowed and pulsated with the energy that trickled away from the witch.
The wind around them rose, tearing at the large branches of trees that stretched above their heads. Demitria’s fingers twitched, but when Galliermo looked at her, he found no trace of fear or hesitation.
Howling wind tore the chants away from their lips, and for a moment, Galliermo thought they might have made a mistake and angered the Gods with this spell.
But once the last drop of life left the girl’s body, and the crystal in Octavia’s hands pulsed once before the glow dimmed, the wind disappeared just as fast as it had appeared. And there was only the silence of the night once more.
“Is it over?” Lyra asked, her voice shaky.
Octavia inspected the crystal in her palm. Then she nodded.
“Get her set up on the altar as per the original spell,” Octavia ordered, and they were spurred into action.
Earlier, they had set up a ritual altar as pictured in their Book that Fanhy spell outlined. There was a circle drawn with red chalk, a five-point star in the middle. Five bloodred pillar candles were stacked at each point of the star, and in the middle, Alatar sat the corpse of the girl.
He leaned her against the base of the statue, her head lolling to the side.
“Cut her damn hands off,” Octavia said to Rufus.
He hesitated for a moment but eventually obeyed his High Priestess and sangi.
“And her feet,” Octavia said. She kicked the girl’s feet with the pointed tip of her high-heeled boot. “Might be easier with a spell.”
Rufus cursed as he removed the girl’s shoes. He tossed them aside, somewhere in the bushes and then murmured a spell to sever the girl’s feet from her legs.
After, Alatar placed the feet and the hands at the four points of the star, next to the candles.
“Does this look good enough?” Reverie asked, arching an eyebrow. “Looks a bit messy for an experienced Fanhy witch.”
“Well, we don’t need to think that the matron of all the Fanhy covens is in Darly performing spells,” Octavia said, then rolled her eyes. “We just need it to be believable enough.”
Reverie shrugged and went to stand next to her sister. Lyra just stared at the corpse and the ritual altar, her face and lips pale.
“Is that all?” Demitria asked.
Alatar nodded, rising to his feet. “Mm-hmm. We’re done with the first murder.”
“Let’s do the cleansing spell to remove any traces of our presence,” Octavia said. “Quickly.”
They did. And once they were done, they walked back to their home, shrouded by a spell of darkness so nobody would see them wandering the night.
They had two more murders ahead of them.
31
Why the Hel Val had chosen this location for their meeting with Galia was beyond Alecto.
She crossed her arms, looking around the dark forest surrounding them. They were in the Old Ruins, freezing their asses off in the middle of the night.
“At least let’s go inside the damn tower,” Jolene said, yawning.
“I don’t want the door to see us,” Val said.
“The door can’t talk,” Andro said. “Not more than the damn riddles, I mean.”
