Page 55 of Bound
Chapter 20
Gage
Though Amoret shivers in the seat next to me, she has not lifted her eyes from the autopsy photos since I gave them to her. I am not familiar with any of the symbols on Liam’s body. But their sinister cast now makes more sense.
A weaving.
But to what end?
“This symbol here,” Amoret mutters as she gestures to a round sigil on Liam’s chest, “it is a heart cast.”
I peer sidelong at her. “I understand energy fields, Amoret. But my magick is raw. Dumb it down for me.”
She glances over. “You are a smart man, Gage.” The iron is back in her voice and I blink at the innocent compliment.
“Okay,” I intone. “Then refresh my memory?”
Though her lips quirk, she goes back to the photos. “A heart cast is a way to draw magick from a person’s life force. A soul cast draws spirit in a similar fashion.”
“So, they drained Liam?”
“Not like you are thinking,” she admits. “A heart cast is used as a transference. It is a raw, complicated practice. One that requires a steady hand.” Her vibrant eyes dart over the photograph. “This is not steady. It was rushed.”
Unease ripples through me. “You can tell that from a photograph?”
“The lines are bisected, rounded where they should be squared off.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Her head turns back to me, her gaze steady. “My magick is rare, Gage. Even under the Hill.” Something like pain flashes across her pretty, heart-shaped face. “Branwen encouraged me to learn as much about magick as I could. To help me understand how my gift works.”
When she glances down, her gaze is fixed away from the gruesome photos. “For a long time, I studied weavings similar to this. In the hopes there was a way to garner power without having to borrow it from someone else.”
The frustrated lilt to her voice is one I know only too well. We both tried to adapt to a magick we never wanted. One that seems more like a curse than any real gift.
“But even these may be out of my knowledge.” She nibbles at the corner of her lip. “I wish Jarrah was here.”
Jealousy, hot and deadly bubbles in my gut. “Why?”
She looks up at me. “He is the one that taught me about many of these sigils. His mother was a weaver for the Black Tower.”
I stare at her.
Her head whips up, vibrant gaze locked out the front windshield. “Gage!”
I turn, spying taillights stopped in the road. Slamming on the brakes, I throw my arm out as the car rocks forward and screeches to a stop. I jerk in my seatbelt, the long strap the only thing keeping me from hitting the steering wheel.
I glance at Amoret. “Are you okay?”
Her chest heaves, lilac and sapphire light swirling in her eyes. “Yes,” she pants. “I think.”
My head drops back on the headrest, heart racing.
“Um, Gage?”
“Huh?” I croak, cracking one eye.
“Your hand is tearing my dress.”
