Incubus (87 page)

the consistency of a smooth, thick gravy.

“Perfect,” he said. “Now for the magic.” He scooped a spoonful of the powder from his bowl into

the flour mixture. A warm yellow spread into the mixture. Seth continued to add powder until the

whole pot was full of the vibrant yellow-gold color.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Not bad for our first attempt at an ancient ritual, huh?” Seth grinned, then bent over and turned

off the stove. “Now we wait for it to cool.”

I looked at the windows. Judging by the sky outside, the sun had risen. “Seth,” I said. He followed

my gaze, and read my concern.

“It’s okay. We’ve got a little time before the sun crests the mountain.” Seth dumped the unneeded

powder into the empty bag we’d used to transport the flour. Then he poured the steaming mixture

from the pot into the wooden bowl slowly, letting the icy air cool the liquid as he worked. Five

minutes later, the mixture was no longer steaming.

“One final ingredient,” Seth said. He met my eyes.

“Right.” I forced myself to smile. “Hand it over.”

“I’d say be careful, but...” Seth pulled a small knife out of the bag, and removed the cardboard

sheath he’d taped around the blade. He’d sharpened it last night, while I’d snuck into the Guard’s

house for the vessel. He gave it to me, handle first.

I took the knife, suddenly uncomfortable, awkward. “Where should I—?”

“Into the bowl,” Seth said.

I was keenly aware of him watching as I summoned my courage. This was nothing compared to

what I’d gone through with Ais. So why was I so afraid?

“Screw it,” I muttered. I held my left hand over the pot and sliced the knife across my palm. It was

sharper than I’d expected. Pain shot through my hand as the skin of my palm opened up like a ravine.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a torrent of blood swelled out of the wound. Instinctively, I

balled my fist, jerking my hand up. Seth caught my wrist.

“Careful,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” I said. “Reflex. I’m good.” Seth released my hand. I held my hand over the pot, then

unclenched my fist slightly. Another wave of pain radiated from the wound, but this time I didn’t

move. Blood flowed freely from my hand, staining the golden mixture a ruddy red. I watched it with

sick fascination.

“Braedyn, breathe,” Seth said, laying a hand against my shoulder.

I startled, pulling my eyes away from the pot. It felt like I was snapping out of a trance. But Seth

wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fastened on the bowl resting on the floor between us.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured. Then he sucked his breath in sharply. I looked down. The

mixture was changing. It had been pure red moments ago, but now it seemed threaded through with

metallic swirls. As I watched, the entire mixture took on the sheen of liquid silver, until even the

drops of blood spilling from my hand seemed to transform just as they connected with the surface.

“There,” Seth breathed. “Hard part’s over.” He handed me a clean white cloth. “You rest. I’ve got it

from here.”

Numbly, I wrapped the cloth around my hand. Seth collected the leftover ingredients, empty

bottles, and used equipment back into the duffle bag. He moved with focused purpose; no wasted

motion, no hesitation.

When he’d finished packing, he picked up the wooden bowl. He walked it with extreme care to the

center of the seal. As I watched, he dipped his fingers into the mixture, then laid them against the

stone floor. He began to paint a series of symbols onto the seal. Every once in a while he’d stop, look

at the vessel, then return to his work. By the time he was done, there was a ring of symbols gleaming

darkly on the dusty stone. The bowl was almost entirely empty.

Seth stepped back to admire his work, wiping the silvery stuff off his hand. Then he joined me at

the edge of the seal, crouching to look into my face. “How’s the hand?”

But I was still staring at the seal. “Is that it?” I asked.

“Yes,” Seth said, giving me an odd look. “Why?”

“I just— “ I looked at him, worried. “How are we supposed to know if it worked?” Instead of

answering, Seth turned to look at the windows. The sky was full blue now. We could see the crest of

the mountain, edged in gold, through the sanctuary’s windows.

“Wait for it.” Seth’s eyes locked to the crest with a burning anticipation. For a few breathless

moments, we watched the mountaintop. And then the sun rose that essential hair’s breadth farther.

Light speared into the sanctuary. “Now... watch.” Seth pointed down.

I let my eyes follow his gesture. The silvery glyphs Seth had painted onto the seal seemed to

undulate, as if a mirage were distorting them to my eyes. And then—they receded, like water sucked

deep into the cracked face of a desert after a storm. 30 seconds after the sun had touched the seal, none

of the marks Seth had painted onto the stone remained.

Without warning, a powerful tugging sensation pulled me toward the seal. I let out a ragged gasp.

Seth didn’t seem to hear me.
It worked.
The thought seemed to release something inside me. My head

felt light, almost giddy.

“Does that answer your question?” Seth asked. Fierce satisfaction burned in his eyes. “Thank you,

Braedyn. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

I stood, feeling shaky. Seth cupped a hand under my elbow, steadying me. I gave him a weak

smile. “We make a good team.”

Seth grinned back at me. “I think we can even make it back before seven.”

“Then let’s not waste time celebrating.” I moved toward the seal.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Seth asked, catching my hand.

“We have to get the vessel back before the Guard notices it’s missing,” I said.

“No,” Seth said, alarmed. “We can’t move it. The ritual isn’t finished until moonlight falls on the

seal, remember? We don’t know what moving the vessel might do, and we can’t risk disrupting the

ritual.”

I looked back at the small bronze vase. If anyone noticed it was missing... Then an idea bloomed in

my head. “The chest,” I said. “We can return that.”

“Yes. Good.” Seth picked up the duffle bag and tossed it over his shoulder. “Let’s get moving.” I

followed Seth toward the mission’s doors, glancing back at the vessel one last time.

Moonrise couldn’t come soon enough.

Once we were back inside the town limits, Seth pulled over and let me out of the trunk. I drove the rest

of the way home. Neither Seth nor I felt much like talking. We both knew we weren’t home safe until

we’d made it back undetected. I killed the engine half a block away from my house and coasted down

the gentle slope of our road. I pulled to a stop at the curb where I’d parked my car yesterday. Seth and

I traded an anxious glance, then got out of the car. We left the duffle in the back of the car—we’d deal

with that later; trying to take it in now would make sneaking inside that much harder. We were

starting up the path to the front door when I saw Dad through the dining room window. He was in the

kitchen, probably making coffee.

“Get back,” I hissed, pulling Seth behind a massive oak tree.

“Any ideas?” he asked.

“We can’t go in the front door.”

“I figured that much.” Seth gave me a pained look.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Come closer.”

Seth looked at me, questions springing into his eyes. Impatient, I pulled him close. His breath

caught. I felt a stab of irritation, but I’d deal with his crush later. First things first; we had to get inside

before Dad realized we were gone. I concentrated on my Lilitu wings, drawing on their power. The

familiar ripping sensation spread down my back. Wings both intangible and somehow present

unfurled behind me. I arched my back and felt the wings respond, stretching to their very tips. I’d

never extended them fully before; the feeling took my breath away. I felt—strong wasn’t the right

word.
Invulnerable.
Seth was watching me, intrigued.

This wasn’t the moment to lose focus. I willed the wings to curve around me, like the folds of a

living cloak. Seth choked out a startled breath; from his perspective, I’d just vanished into thin air.

“Hold still,” I murmured. I willed the cloak to expand slightly, including Seth under its protection.

He breathed out in amazement when he saw me standing before him again. “There. We’re hidden.” I

couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice.

Seth looked uncertain. “You think we can walk through the front door without your dad noticing?”

he asked.

“No,” I said. “But we’re not going in the front door. Follow me.”

We walked together to the back of my house. I kept Seth cloaked from both Dad and anyone at the

Guard’s house who might be watching. We reached the backyard without incident. Seth crouched

beneath the window to the guest room while I reached up and tried to open the window.

“I think it’s locked,” Seth said. He looked worried.

I crouched beside him, thinking. “Okay. I’m going to climb into my room. I’ll open your window

from inside. Just give me a few minutes to throw Dad off the scent.”

“Okay.” He backed partway into a hedge. It might be scratchy, but it kept him neatly screened

from view.

I retreated back to the trellis leading up to my bedroom window. I picked my way gingerly through

the thorns of the climbing rose up to the second floor. My window was closed but not latched. I slid it

open with my palm, then eased myself inside, taking care not to fall to the floor. I pulled the pillows

out from under my covers, throwing the sheets back as if I’d just gotten out of bed. I dug through my

closet for a fresh shirt, pulled it on, then headed downstairs.

Dad looked up as I entered the kitchen. “Morning,” he said.

“Morning.” I picked up an orange out of our fruit bowl and stared out the kitchen window, trying

to keep my voice neutral. Outside, I could see a group of Guardsmen hustle into a car parked on the

street. “What’s up with the Guard?” I asked, glad for the conversation topic.

“Still searching for your mystery man,” Dad said. I glanced back at him. He was buttering a slice

of toast.

“So they’re all on patrol?” I asked. Dad finished buttering the toast. He put it on a plate and slid

the plate toward me across the kitchen island. I picked up a piece of toast. “Thanks.” I took a big bite

of toast. It was warm and crisp and delicious. Dad was watching me closely. I forced myself to

swallow. “Something wrong?”

“I know you know it’s winter solstice,” Dad said. The toast suddenly lost some of its flavor. “You

can talk to me,” Dad said. “I know how frustrated you’ve been. How hard it must be for you to trust

us.” He walked around the island and took my shoulders in his hands. “I just wanted to let you know,

I’m proud of you, honey.”

I set my half-eaten toast back on the plate, feeling ill. “I should see if Seth’s up.”

Dad studied me with a searching look, but let me go. “Sure. I’ll throw some more bread in the

toaster.”

I walked into the hallway, forcing myself not to run. Shame and guilt clawed their way through my

middle. I paused at Seth’s door and knocked. “Seth? You up?” It was an act for Dad’s benefit, but I

needed to make it sound real. “Sure, I think there’s a spare towel in your closet. I’ll show you.” I

walked into the room.

Seth was watching me from the other side of the window. I crossed the room quickly and unlocked

it. Seth reached a hand up. I took it and helped him climb into the room. The whole production took

less than a minute.

“You’re getting ready for a shower,” I whispered.

Seth understood immediately. He pulled his shirt off, revealing a chest chiseled with tight,

compact muscles. I stared for a moment, stunned. I wouldn’t have expected that kind of definition

from such a skinny guy. Seth caught me staring and smiled. Blushing, I turned my back on him. I

heard him finish taking off his clothes, then pull on the robe he’d been wearing over his pajamas last

night.