Page 146 of Summoned
Shit.
Madeline’s fingers twitch in the air. The strap on Nicole’s thigh snaps with a whip-like sound. The dagger cuts a straight line through the air and lands in Madeline’s hand.
Nicole lunges forward as if to chase it, but then stops herself. Her hands curl into fists, nostrils flaring.
Madeline examines the blade with a calmness that unnerves me. “You gave your most desperate harvest a dagger?”
I shrug. “She had to dig me out somehow, didn’t she?”
Madeline flips the blade over. My heart lodges in my throat. She knows damn well that a witcher like me would never surrender his only magically charged artifact to someone he didn’t care about. He’d keep it to drain any remaining magic if his power ever faltered.
When she examines the engraving, I know we’re fucked. Another thing a black witcher would never do for a mortal he didn’t care about? Defile a magical artifact with a sentimentalinscription.
The air vibrates. The harvests scatter across the graveyard like a startled flock of birds. My own magic shoots into my fingertips.
“Gaetano, Gaetano…” Madeline murmurs, still staring at the dagger.
The blade flies through the air like a bullet, aimed straight at Nicole. I throw myself in its way, catching it with my body. It cuts through my shoulder and lodges in the muscle. Pain erupts down my whole arm. “Stay behind me!” I shout.
Nicole’s ragged breath brushes against my back as she presses herself close. Her fingers skim my skin—soft and brief, yet warm enough to boost my resolve.
I grit my teeth and grab the dagger’s hilt, pulling it free. The scent of my blood floods my senses.
As the blade hits the ground with a quietclink, a fresh jolt of electricity rushes down my spine. It seeps beneath my skin, slips into my bloodstream, and races toward my cells…
Madeline’s specialty. Paralytic magic.
She used it on me five centuries ago. This time, I recognize the signs right away.
“Hold on to me!” I bark over my shoulder.
Nicole clutches my ribs. I conceal us behind an invisible veil and shift us sideways, leaving an illusion of us both in our original positions. Madeline’s magic strikes the false image dead-on. I try to teleport us out of the castle, but the air hums with static—some kind of confinement spell.
Nicole’s still a harvest, damn it. I should be able to leave. I should be able to…
As I struggle to break through Madeline’s protections, it hits me:Nicole is still a harvest. Our contract remains active, and its deadline is midnight.
I don’t know how many minutes are left, but if we don’tcomplete the harvest on time, we’ll both face the consequences of a broken magical pact.
I scatter multiple illusions of Nicole and myself across the graveyard. Madeline blasts a few, but she can’t hit them all. Still, if we keep this up much longer, I’ll burn through the last of my magic.
“What do we do?” Nicole whispers behind me, her palm grazing just above the dagger wound.
I cover her hand with mine. “We get out.” Pain grips my chest. It’s a lie. I have no idea what we’re doing.
A few steps away, Madeline suddenly pulls back her magic. The air feels lighter, as if cleansed. Then she does the most unusual thing: she picks up the dagger from the ground and slices it across her palm, leaving a deep red line beneath the blade. Clenching her fist, she allows the blood to drip onto her finger.
She glances at the illusions I’ve set up like sentinels around her. Her lips curl as her voice echoes over the graveyard, “I summon you, Black Joker, wanderer of shadows and whisper in the void. Come forth from the darkness and hear my wish.”
Nicole’s fingers dig into my skin. “What is she doing?!”
The curse’s threads start to twist through my soul, binding around my bones and gradually stretching toward Madeline. Warm liquid runs down my cheek. I wipe it away and see the bloodstained tear smear across my dirty thumb.
Panic rushes through my chest as a bridge forms between me and the witch. One that can’t be burned.
“She’s summoning me…”
“You have two choices, Gaetano!” Madeline’s voice cuts through the silence. “Keep running like a coward. Midnight is minutes away. If you haven’t claimed your little bitch’s soul by then, you’ll both suffer the penalty for a broken contract.”
