Page 44 of The Deathless One
“For all that you think I’m untrustworthy, I am bound to see you back on your throne, Jessamine.” His shape warped, melting into the shadows as they usually did when he was about to disappear, but then she saw him hesitate.
His shadows lingered in the room. And she didn’t think that was because he wanted to watch what she did next.
“Do you have something else to say?”
“He has a book in his possession that is very important to me. When we go to see him, we need to take it back.”
A book? Frowning, she hopped off the stool and took a step closer to him. “A spell book?”
“Something much worse than that.”
“You won’t give me a clearer answer, will you?”
“No.” The shadows drifted apart a little again before sticking back together. “You’ll know it when you see it, nightmare. And then I need you to take it back for me.”
Frustrated, she tossed her hands in the air and spat, “You won’t give me a reason why?”
“Because I said so.” The growled words were sharper than before, all edged in anger and madness. “I may be your patron, Jessamine Harmsworth, but you so easily forget that you do not control me.”
“You’re the one who insists I summon you—or do you no longer want that?”
A cry of rage blasted toward her like a swarm of bats. She raised her arms to protect herself from his anger, only to feel the shadows pass over her like a cool wind as he disappeared.
It took her a long time to drop her arms. Even longer to take a step onshaking knees that threatened to send her tumbling onto the floor. But she managed to stagger back to the island and sink down onto the stool again.
“The Owl’s Nest,” she muttered, before glancing down at her skirt.
There were two charcoal handprints there. Black stains through the very fabric, and she should have been frightened at the sight of them. She should have quaked with the fear that there were lingering marks every time he touched her, but instead…
That wicked thing inside her rejoiced. She enjoyed wearing his mark. She enjoyed knowing where he had touched her and that she had felt him.
But oh, she was afraid of the thing inside her. Because now that it had awakened, she wouldn’t easily cajole it back to sleep.
The witches and their god all prepared to journey together to the Owl’s Nest. Unfortunately, that meant that the Deathless One was relegated to a small hand mirror perched over Jessamine’s shoulder, the better to preserve his power for when it was most needed. When he looked through the mirror, its handle strapped to her pack, his view swayed with her as she walked, and he found himself nauseous almost immediately.
Why wouldn’t Jessamine just summon him? It was an argument they’d had for hours before the two women finally persuaded him that they weren’t going to do it. Neither of them trusted him in any sort of physical form.
He supposed he couldn’t blame them, but he’d forgotten what it felt like to be disappointed. He wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling. It made him uncomfortable, and a little itchy. Of course, he blamed them for this feeling.
Witches.
“Ready?” Jessamine asked for the last time. Her hand came into view as she straightened her pack.
A thread of nerves coiled through her voice, as though she wasn’t all that ready herself. She had been more than prepared only a few hours ago to go on her own, and yet, this required all three of them.
He’d needed to spend time convincing Sybil. The usually stoic woman had nearly crumpled into a panic attack at the thought of leaving the manor. The last time he’d sent her on an errand, he hadn’t stayed to see how she had reacted.
The Deathless One had thought to push her until she pointed a gnarled finger in the direction of the blooming statues, a reminder of how witches worshipped the dead. Her meaning was clear. Even the gods had died in this realm, and she feared what that meant for a mortal like her. He had so easily forgotten that mortals feared death.
So he’d threatened to kill her if she stayed in the manor. That had gotten her moving.
“If we’d left hours ago, we would have already been there,” he grumbled.
Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.
Jessamine tapped the mirror hard enough that he felt the impact echo through his realm, and Sybil stepped in front of the mirror to give him a long stare.
At least it was the practiced witch who responded, “Times have changed since you last died, Deathless One. It is not safe for us to wander the streets whenever we wish.”
