Page 40 of The Blood Witch
I open my mouth to snap that Grammy did see it coming, but something else Jamie just said makes me pause.
The great Osteomancer…
For some reason, these three taunting words send my mind reeling.
The strange dreams.
The overfull feeling of magic.
My ability to wield power so easily when it takes others years to master.
The feeling I had at my last reading, where I had access to more magic than I technically should have…
I thought what I was experiencing was normal—not that I would really know what normal feels like when it comes to magic. It’s not as though I’ve had previous experience to compare it to. But I’ve never given what I felt and could do much thought until now.
Elon’s flat tone starts in my head,she’s looking for the witch who has the source line for our magic.
I don’t know why that didn’t resonate with me before, but...
Fuck.
I’m pretty sure I’m the source line Jamie is looking for.
The great Osteomancer.
Shock rings through my mind like a gong that’s been hit too hard and now the noise is overwhelmingly loud. My body practically vibrates with understanding. Is this what’s been happening to me, what’s been making me feel so powerful? I mean, my line has always been strong. Jamie just brought it up like it was common knowledge. Even Rogan mentioned it when we first met. He was trying to magic-shame me by pointing out that my grandmother was powerful and probably one of the most gifted Osteomancers left. I never thought much about that fact before, but in this context, the truth feels blinding.
I do everything to school my face as Jamie rants. I struggle to tune into what she’s saying over the sound of my too fast pulse in my ears. Maybe I’m wrong and Elon is the source like Jamie thinks he is, but in my gut, I don’t truly believe that’s the case.
“You think you’re saving her, Leni? Well, newsflash: you don’t decide who lives and dies here, I do, and your kindness just killed her, like her cowardice killed her husband,” Jamie spits at me, and then she trudges out of the church, once again slamming the doors behind her.
I stare after her, finally understanding why some parents remove doors in their house to prevent this same, very annoying behavior from their children. Terror climbs up the back of my throat, and anger floods my every thought. It’s all I can do not to scream as I think about her words and being trapped here. I don’t want to wrap my mind around what’s happened to all the witches who came before me. To think about how many stood in this very cell, hoping someone would find them, that something would stop this madwoman from stealing what she has no right to take.
But understanding is pulling me under against my will, and impotent fury is an ever growing spark inside of me, one I have no fucking outlet for. I look all around me, desperate to find something that might temper my rage. My frenzied search lands on the owl skull. The reason I’m now in a demon-marked cell, staring death right in its bleak and miserable eyes. How could I have been so blind?
Why didn’t I see these corrupted bones for what they were?
I would have noticed an animal skull in my room before. I don’t care how distracted I was by dick, I should have known better than to pick that thing up.
I stand up and stomp over to the skull. Apparently, I didn’t throw it hard enough the first time to knock it out of my cell. I pluck it from the ground, and with an agonized bellow, chuck it as hard as I can against the wall. A fissure forms in the bone, but it doesn’t splinter the way I want, so I pick it up from the seam of two stone blocks and throw it again like I’m a pitcher in the major leagues. Skull fragments explode against the wall, and I immediately sweep them into a pile with my hands. I pick through the remnants, looking for the sharpest, most lethal looking options and setting them aside.
If a crazy bitch wants to use these bones to trap me here, then I’ll go ahead and use them to open her throat. This loon messed with the wrong witch.
Time to get to work.
12
Iclench my teeth so hard against the inferno threatening to melt my bones, that I swear my teeth are going to crumble to nothing any minute now. Fire burns through my veins, and I fight against its desire to melt me from the inside out and push the bone dust to try and find a crack or a hole in the mortar cementing the stones of the church wall in front of me.
Sweat pours off my brow as I swallow down a scream, my throat raw and abused from fighting the demon magic of this cell for too long. I feel drained, exhausted, but I know I have to do this now, have to try and find a way, before Jamie comes back and does who knows what.
If I can just find the smallest weakness in the wall, then I can shove the bone powder through and see if I can destabilize it even more. The only problem is, agony doesn’t even begin to describe what this cell is doing to me for trying to use my magic. In between passing out for the past handful of hours, I’ve already placed the sharp skull fragments I set aside around my cell so I can grab and use one if the opportunity presents itself. But the rest of the bones could be of some use, or would be, if using my magic didn’t give me the excruciating understanding of what it feels like to live inside a volcano.
Black dots start to form threateningly in my vision, and I let go of the magic before I’m forced to pass out again. The bone dust floats to the ground, and I let out a frustrated exhale. I’ve still only been able to make it travel halfway up the wall. I need to focus, but I don’t know how much more physically I can take. With a disgruntled growl, I slap the stones of the wall and then slide down it to rest for a bit before I try again.
“Feel better?” Elon asks, a critical eyebrow raised as though he just witnessed some ridiculous tantrum. “Finally come to terms with the fact that there’s no getting out of here?”
Damn, and I thought Rogan was a judgy fucker, but the award for haughty prick definitely goes to his brother.
