Page 47 of Witches of Dubious Origin
I couldn’t argue that.
We both glanced at the Viking, strategizing how we were going to manage this. The Viking had his face pressed between the decorative iron bars that made up the doors. He was breathing through his nose, making his nostrils flare, and his eyes blazed with a rage so fierce I was surprised we didn’t feel the heat searing our skin.
I glanced down at his shoes and noted they were moccasin-like, with a leather upper that appeared to be soft. It might not be that difficult to get the needle to pass through. Of course, if we stabbed him in the foot, that could cause a problem.
“How’s your sewing?” Jasper asked.
“I can manage to fasten a button if required. You?”
“I’ve sewn up more wounds than I can count, including some of my own.”
“You’re the seamstress, then,” I said. “I’ll distract him while you slip the needle through his shoe.”
He made a face and I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t trust me to distract the Viking or he didn’t want to go near the man’s feet. I didn’t bother to ask, as our guest was rattling the wrought iron so ferociously I was afraid he really would the rip the door off its hinges.
“Get ready,” I said to Jasper. He nodded, slipping his phone into his pocket and holding the needle between his fingers.
I crossed to the statue of Gerard and snatched the grimoire off the marble box in his hand. The Viking went instantly still. His eyes went wide as he looked at me holding the book. I knew I had to keep his attention while Jasper attempted to bind him.
I held the book up high over my head while Jasper crouched low, preparing to approach the tomb. The Viking’s eyes locked on the book, tracking it as I twirled in place and chanted nonsense.
When Jasper moved in, I leapt from side to side, raising my face to the sky as if imploring the gods to help me raise the dead. We were in a cemetery. I assumed the Viking would expect nothing less. I kept going and going, hoping Jasper completed his task before I ran out of gibberish.
“Done.” Jasper leapt back from the gate. I lowered the book, wondering if such a simple thing as a needle could really hold captive two hundred pounds of furious undead guy.
I watched as the Viking gripped the bars. His gaze still on the book. When he tried to reach through the iron gate to grab it, his hands didn’t move. He couldn’t let go. He waslocked in place. I felt my jaw go slack as the Viking went into a frenzy, rattling the door of his prison.
Jasper didn’t seem to notice as he took what looked like a smudging stick out of the same black velvet pouch from his coat and lit the end on fire. Blowing out the flames, the clump of herbs started to smoke. He extended his arm away from his face and said, “Don’t breathe this in. It’s a strain of nightshade that will vanish you and I don’t have the antidote on me.”
I yanked my pajama top up over my nose and mouth and stayed upwind. I watched as Jasper circled the tomb, waving the smudging stick up and down. The Viking watched him, too, yelling at him when he passed by the doors. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but the Viking’s voice grew quieter with each pass and he seemed to fade like an old photograph until I couldn’t see or hear him at all. Jasper stopped walking and dropped the stick to the ground, where he extinguished it beneath the heel of his shoe.
“There.” Jasper brushed his hands off. “Our work here is done.”
“What did you do?” I asked. “How did you get rid of him?”
“Oh, he’s still there. That’s a masking spell—from Tariq,” he said. “That particular smudging stick causes whatever being its used on to be rendered mute in all forms. They can’t be seen or heard or smelled.”
“So no one coming to the cemetery will know he’s there?” I asked.
“Exactly.”
I stared at the tomb. There was no sign of the enragedwarrior who had terrified us all evening, but even through the smudging spell, I sensed him. I could feel his malevolent gaze upon us and it shook me to my core. I had no doubt if I ever ran into him again when he was loose, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.
“Who has access to this tomb?” Jasper asked.
“My friend Agatha Lively,” I said. “It belongs to her family.”
“You’ll need to tell her to stay away from here and to make certain no one else goes near it either, at least until we can get rid of her new tenant,” he said.
“All right.” I couldn’t wait for that conversation.
Jasper tapped a quick text into his phone. “Olive and Miles know what happened. We’re all in agreement that you can no longer stay in your house.”
“Funny you should mention that.” I stared him down in the darkness and asked, “How did you arrive at my house just when I was in need of assistance? And how did you just happen to have a needle that can hold someone captive and a smudging stick that could render them invisible?”
“I don’t think that’s the right question.” He took my arm and directed me to the dirt road that led out of the cemetery.
“What do you mean?” I asked. The sweat I’d produced while racing through the graveyard and being scared out of my wits was now cooling in the frigid night air and I shivered, clutching the grimoire to my chest.
