Page 37 of Devils and the Dead
“The dead elves believe she would have done the same if they turned over the Everbloom, and that holding it back gave them the only leverage they have.”
“Some leverage.” The fairy rolled her eyes. “Dead, cursed elves can’t exactly bargain. Although, if she wasn’t willing to give them lenience if they returned the stolen item, then I guess they had no reason to tell her where it was hidden.”
“It’s been roughly thirty years since they were cursed,” I pointed out. “What are the chances that the queen might be willing to bargain now? If we find the Everbloom and offer to give it back if she reverses the curse, do you think she will?”
Mirabelle pursed her lips. “It’ll depend on how valuable the item is, and how pissed off she is at the elves who stole it. The desire for vengeance is often far more important than any artifact, and her cursing them definitely sent a message to anyone who was considering doing the same. If she reverses the curse, she might appear weak.”
I let out a breath, feeling absolutely frustrated. I couldn’t help Maude. I probably couldn’t help the elves either. Or Clinton’s pack. There had to besomethingI could do.
“Everbloom.” Mirabelle tapped a long ice-blue nail on the glass counter. “Enchanted flowers are highly prized. Perhaps the queen’s anger has dampened down a bit, and she’s missing her possession. She might be willing to trade. And you’re in a position to offer something in addition to the stolen item to sweeten the deal.”
“Me?” I eyed her in astonishment, wondering what a necromancer could give an elven queen.
“Well, not you specifically. Your sister Bronwyn creates some beautiful enchanted items, many of them fit for fae royalty. If you offer the Everbloomandone of Bronwyn’s lovely sculptures, their queen might consider the bargain.”
I knew Bronwyn would agree to help, but that wasn’t my only obstacle. I needed to find the Everbloom, then figure out how to go through the mists into the elven lands, find the queen, make my offer, and hope she was in a bargaining mood. It would be easier if Sylvie could break the curse, and I fully intended to try that option first. But I needed a plan B.
And I needed to do something fast, before Clinton’s pack dissolved, ran back to Dallas, and we were back where we started with the werewolves.
Chapter 17
Babylon
“This isn’t going to be easy.” Sylvie and I stared down at the bleeding log that Fists had hidden in the rear of his wood lot. “I haven’t even lit a candle and I can feel the magic pouring off that thing.”
“But do you think you can break the curse?” I asked.
I’d gone from Mirabelle’s jewelry shop straight to my sister’s house, then drove her up Savior Mountain to the werewolf compound. Clinton and a handful of the others were a respectful hundred feet away. I was ready to have them move farther back depending on what Sylvie was planning. Breaking spells always resulted in a magical backlash. Usually that backlash could be contained or redirected, but sometimes things went boom and I didn’t want Clinton or his people to be hurt.
“Nope. Not the slightest chance, but if being with Eshu has taught me anything, sometimes the longshot happens when you least expect it.”
I glanced around nervously. “With Eshu, that longshot usually comes with chaos and destruction.”
Sylvie chuckled. “True. Which is one of the reasons I didn’t bring him today.”
A demon partner amplified a witch’s abilities, and witches also enhanced a demon’s power in return. But Eshu wasn’t truly a demon, and his effects on Sylvie’s powers often produced unexpected and disastrous outcomes.
Sylvie lit a dark red candle and changed as she waved it over the log. After a few minutes, she blew out the flame and set the candle down.
“The spell is woven into the wood.” She frowned. “Tightly woven. And it binds the dead elf’s soul and body both. Hurting the wood causes the elf great pain.”
“So we can’t cut the body out of the tree?” That had been one of our options. Sylvie had thought if the spell had been mainly confined to the tree, removing the remains would break the magic.
“No. If we managed it, the spell would continue to bind them together. I doubt even transporting the bones outside of Accident would break the spell.”
“Can you unravel it?” I asked. That had been a second option. Sylvie said that curses were like knitting. If you snipped a thread and pulled, sometimes the whole thing came apart.”
“That’s what I’m going to attempt.” She glanced over at the werewolves. “You guys might want to move about twenty yards more away.”
“Myhouseisn’t twenty yards more away,” one of them pointed out in a panicked voice.
Sylvie waved a hand. “This won’t hurt your house. It probably won’t hurt you either, but it’s best to take precautions.”
The werewolves moved back—they moved far back. I could barely see them hiding behind the trees at the edge of the compound. Sylvie glanced around to make sure the area was clear, then she pulled a velvet bag out of her pocket. Opening the bag, she carefully removed several shards of glass.
I leaned closer and realized they weren’t glass, they were pieces of a broken mirror.
“Shatter.” With that one word, Sylvie plunged the piece of mirror into the tree. Her magic pressed against me, nearly forcing me to the ground. I gasped, amazed at how her power had grown over the last year. I didn’t often witness Sylvie’s luck magic in process. Usually she gave me a charm that she’d already crafted, but it wasn’t usual for me to be present when she created them.
