Page 80 of Lourdes & the Mafia
The Spell Weaver turns from me, one hand picking up a cog, the other a bundle of purple fabric. It begins to twist the fabric around the cog.
Over and over and over.
“Remove the spell,” I order, my patience fraying thin.
The Spell Weaver does not respond.
Over and over the fabric goes.
Finally, its face twists, head twirling in a full circle. “Spells are delicate things. To break them, one must know the origins.” It lifts the fabric up with a third hand. “And who put it there in the first place.”
“Tell me, so I can punish them.” For an eternity.
“Have you heard the story of Gargoth the demon?” It drops the fabric and goes to pick up a string of lights. “He was told all his life he was one thing, and he believed it, so he became it, cursing himself.”
A growl rips through me. “Speak clearly, Spell Weaver.”
That black smile twists up again. “You have cursed yourself, my King. And only you can break the spell.”
What the fuck?
My magic lashes out, wrapping around the Spell Weaver’s throat and choking it. “I do not enjoy these games, Weaver.”
A gargled cackle escapes the creature. From one of its elbows, the flabby flesh distorts and a mouth pushes out from between the flabs. “No games, my King. Only truths.”
I release it and it slumps back to the ground. “What do you mean?”
“I am the Weaver of Spells.” It picks up a string of black thread. “I can weave them into being or cut them from existence. I can find curses and cure them or create them. Yours… is the easiest cure of all.”
“Tell me.”
The Spell Weaver begins to hum, wrapping the black thread around and through its fingers. “Heal your wounds.”
I blink. “What?!”
“Heal your wounds. Learn to love. It will heal you of your curse.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
The Weaver cackles. “You were predestined, and your body rejects all happiness and has created the curse itself. Learn to embrace your love for her.”
“I don’t love her.” The rejection of the sentiment comes to my lips automatically.
“You only know torture. Only know pain.” The threading stops. “Isn’t love the greatest pain of all?” It resumes several tasks at once to the point where I can’t keep track. “Heal yourself. Accept the pain. Only then will the curse you’ve placed upon yourself break.”
Then the Weaver opens half of its head, flashing obsidian teeth…
And it begins to cackle.
I leave in a cluster of smoke.
Yet its laughter follows me back to the castle.
Lourdes
Everythinghappenedsofast.One moment, the fresh air was pressing against me and I felt free, the next my body felt cold and those creatures attacked. And Kane, he was hurt, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Then they died. Ramiel and Lorenzo appeared.
