Page 97 of The Deathless One
Callum tsked. “Such confidence for a man about to be bound to me. Perhaps the first thing I will do is make you punish yourself for every threat you have given me. It is you who should be careful, Deathless One. For you cannot die, and an eternity is a very long time to be enslaved.”
Jessamine spent a few days feeling sorry for herself, mostly because she was quite certain that she was going to die in here. They’d forgotten to bring her food for an entire day now. That she could handle, but the water? She’d started standing underneath that window and catching the noxious liquid that splattered in.
Not vomiting the moment it hit her lips was impressive, but it took more effort than she wanted to admit.
Eventually, she just wanted to give up. Nothing was going her way, she wasn’t ever going to get out of here, everyone she’d ever trusted had betrayed her, and in the end, did any of this matter? She was supposed to be dead. Dying one more time was probably just fate intervening with a swiftThis wasn’t supposed to happen.Youweren’t supposed to happen.
But those thoughts lasted for all of a few hours before she pulled herself back together again. Because she wasn’t the kind of person who could give up that easily. And if anything would make her mother roll over in her grave, it was her daughter backing down from a fight.
She didn’t have her spell books or any ingredients, but she was still powerful in her own right. She could still do something with herself, so she started stacking crates, one on top of the other, creating a stair that wasn’t remotely safe or sturdy, but it would do.
Then she crawled up to the window and stuck her hand out into the rain. Peering outside, she could see they weren’t on a street after all, but aninterior courtyard. That was good. There was still rain here, though, and she could use that to her advantage.
Muttering a common chant, she cast an old spell that she’d found in one of the books a while ago. It wasn’t much of a spell, really. Just a way to send messages between witches using natural elements, like drops of water.
The rain would take her request to Sybil. It would tell her where Jessamine was, because with this spell, she also cast aside everything she had claimed before. She was no longer a woman who didn’t believe in the gods. The gods weren’t dead.
There was still one out there.
Dropping the pad of her finger to the metal grating, she sawed her flesh over a rusted edge. “I believe in him,” she whispered at the end of the spell. “The Deathless One is the god I worship, and in his name I dedicate this pain and blood.”
It wasn’t much of a sacrifice, but it bound her to him in a whole new way. She was no longer just a gravesinger now, she was a worshipper. And if she was lucky, maybe that meant she was now part of his coven. Any other god would have scoffed at the meager spike of pain and the smear of blood that was quickly washed away by the rain. But for her? It was everything. She hoped he could feel it, too.
She didn’t have to wait long. Nearly an hour later, there was the pitter-patter of feet and a dark face that leaned down to look through the grate. “Would you look at what they trapped in the sewers again?”
“Sybil,” she breathed. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
Raindrops gathered like pearls on the twisted strands of Sybil’s hair. She had a mask over her face, and already there was magic crackling around her body, cloaking her in shadows as she crouched outside the window.
For all that the Iron Knuckles thought they knew how to contain a witch, they clearly didn’t know how to keep them out.
Sybil grinned, her eyes crinkling from behind the mask. “The Deathless One already sent a message to me, love. It took me almost a week to get here once I convinced myself to leave the manor. But your last littlespell brought me right to you, which is perfect. Now, do you want to get out of here?”
“I mean, yes. But how are you going to get me out?”
“Magic.” Sybil yanked the mask down and shook her head. “How else?”
“I don’t know any spell that can turn me invisible. They’ve got all the lights on in the hall. I can see them underneath the door.” She eyed the space between the bars. “And I’m too big to fit through those. If Elric was here, I suppose I could crack all my ribs to get out and then he could piece me back together, but I haven’t felt him in ages.”
“Neither have I. I suppose you just have to trust that I remember enough spells to get you out.” Sybil stepped back a bit, her hands in front of her and more of that magic boiling in her chest. “He gave me just enough, I think. Now if you don’t mind, run as soon as it’s big enough.”
“As soon as what is big enough?”
Jessamine tripped over her own feet, trying to get away from the wall as it rumbled. The very stones of the building, the metal and wood that held it together, groaned as magic forced the entire building to move, creating more space around the window. Just enough for the bars to break free, and suddenly, she could definitely fit between them.
“Trust,” she whispered, before bolting up the crates.
Shouts already echoed through the halls behind her, and she knew there were only a few moments before someone blasted through the door.
She threw her body out into the rain just as Sybil released the spell. Breathing hard, the dark witch stared with wide eyes at the damage she’d done while the building creaked around them. They both stared, watching the entire thing sway before it seemed to settle once more.
“Did you almost take down the whole building?” Jessamine asked.
“I think so.”
“How did you do that?”
Sybil looked down at her hands and then back to Jessamine. “I have no idea.”
