Chapter 14

I pulled up outside the long row of terraced houses in the affluent Bootham area of the city. Each of the houses that lined the road had a mock Tudor look to them with whitewashed walls and black timber fascia.

The street was narrow, and the houses had barely two feet of front garden, which was just enough space to place some potted plants and allow the owners to claim their homes didn't open directly onto the street like the poorer peoples did.

Each of those gardens was well maintained with a riotous mix of colourful plants that filled the night air with their perfume. The pavements and gutters were clean, and the houses quiet. No children running around, or loud music playing.

It was simply a quiet, genteel, area of the city and I found myself relaxing the tension in my muscles that I hadn't even realised I was carrying.

The house I wanted had a red painted door with a brass knocker, and neatly shaped shrubbery in front of the window. It looked like every other house on the street, and I was sure none of the neighbours knew of what went on inside.

I knocked twice on the door and waited, my irritation growing as no one responded. It was the opposite side of the city to where I lived, and a good deal out of my way. If the warlock wasn't home, I would be pissed.

Raising my hand to knock once again, my brow furrowed as a light flickered on and the distant sound of footsteps approaching stayed my hand.

The door opened and I blinked, surprised.

Not what I was expecting at all.

"Well?" he asked. "What do you want?"

Lucien Blackthorn, Warlock, egotist and, apparently, a total prick.

He stood before me dressed in black trousers and bare feet. His black shirt hung open, revealing a slim, pale, body with the hint of a tattoo on his right breast, hidden from view by the shirt. His dark tousled hair was worn loose and hung almost to his shoulders.

 Leaning against the doorframe, he crossed his arms as he studied me, much as I studied him, and there was a twitch of his lips that could have been amusement. Which, considering how I looked, wasn't surprising.

Hardly at my best.

Eyes, a blue so pale they reminded me of ice, flashed a deep, rich, violet flecked with red, and I almost stepped back as my eyes responded in kind, even though I tried desperately to clamp down on that happening.

"Interesting," he murmured, head tilting as he looked at me with renewed interest.

"How did you do that?" I managed to gasp.

"One of my many gifts."

It was a violation! Forcing me to reveal what I was like that. Fury rose in my breast, and I glared at him, biting back the things I wanted to say as I reminded myself that I needed something from him.

"You going to invite me in or should we talk, loudly, out here?"

Another twitch of his lips. He was definitely laughing at me.

He turned away from the door with a shrug and raised a hand, fingers crooking to gesture me inside after him. I grimaced and stepped across his threshold, feeling somewhat like I was crossing into the lion's den, full of danger.

I closed the door behind me and walked the length of the hallway before turning right into a quite spacious, and richly appointed, study.

The warlock crossed to a high-backed leather chair beside the fireplace and settled into it. He raised one pale, long-fingered hand, and gestured to the chair opposite.

I ignored him as I looked around.

Books filled every spare inch of space. Shelves full of them lined two of the four walls, and there were piles of them on the sideboard and end tables, as well as forming small towers on the hardwood floor.

There was a brass clock on the mantle above the fire, the tick-tock of it counting the seconds filling the air in a comforting manner. A table behind his chair held an assortment of bottles, many of them quite expensive and easily recognisable from those I had seen in my grandparents' home.

The black painted walls were covered in sigils and wards, too many to count, let alone decipher the meaning of.

I breathed deep of the air, cool despite the summers evening warmth and lack of windows in the dark room that should have had it feeling like a sweatbox. I chewed on my lower lip and considered what I was doing.

Lucien was watching me, eyes unblinking, and I felt myself wilt a little beneath that stare. There was power in it.

More than I had.

I took a seat, sinking into the chair opposite him, the scent of the leather strong as I was enveloped in the soft cushioned embrace.

"So," Lucien said. "What can I do for you?"

I licked dry lips. "Belladonna."

He lifted a brow, surprised, and then furrowed it as his eyes glinted with annoyance.

"A herb."

"Yes."

"Who provided you with my address?"

I almost flinched back at the anger in his voice but was proud of myself for keeping my face still as I rested my hands on chairs arms.

"Does that matter?"

"Considering the waste of my time that this is," he almost snarled the words. "Yes, it is."

"Do you have the herb or not?"

He snorted and shook his head. "Of course I do."

"Then sell me some and I'll be away and will stop wasting your time."

Lucien burst out of the chair, the movement almost violent, and I did flinch then, pressing myself back into the cushions of my seat. But he moved swiftly past me to the sideboard and pulled open a cupboard, taking out a jar that he brought back to his seat as he dropped back into it.

"What do you want it for?"

"None of your business."

He fixed me with a look that told me he was rapidly losing patience. "It is if you want me to sell you this. I need to know how much you need, and what type. Does it have to have been gathered during the day or beneath a full moon? From field, or river, or atop a damned hill?"

"Oh." My cheeks were flaming, and I shrank back even further. I should have known that. "A ritual of dissolution."

"Then a single sprig, cut with a silver blade beneath a crescent moon," he muttered, opening the jar. "That will work best."

He pulled out a slightly eerie looking sprig, with oval-shaped, dark green leaves that had a smooth texture and a slightly pointed tip. There were several small, bell-shaped flowers hanging from the stem, each a dusky purple.

Lucien set it aside and resealed the jar before he looked at me again. "Anything else?"

I already had the grave dirt, and I had the waning moon so long as I completed the ritual that night. Chalk, I had, and any cooking pan would work in place of a brazier. The only other ingredient I could think I might find easier to get directly from him, wasn't a big thing at all.

"Rainwater," I said, shrugging. "Enough to fill a bowl."

Lucien nodded slowly. "I have that. From the highlands of Scotland, superior quality as it was gathered directly by me."

Which, by his tone, I assumed meant something.

"Any rainwater will do." Cheapest preferred. "Whatever you have."

Another trip to the cupboard and he returned with a small glass jar filled with water that he placed beside the sprig of Belladonna.

"How much?" I asked, lifting my chin towards them.

"Can do you both for seventy-five."

I stared at him a moment and then laughed. "You're joking?"

"No."

Since I had about fifteen quid to my name, that was way out of my price range, and I was pretty sure he knew that. Much as he knew that if I was coming to him, I had few other options.

I was starting to understand why people kept telling me I wouldn't like him.

"Tell you what," he said, smiling. "I'll give it to you for nothing. Just tell me who sent you to waste my time."

I felt a definite chill at that, and I shook my head. No way would I give up Peter to him. There was something predatory about the way he leaned forward, asking me that question, and I wasn't sure I cared to know why he wanted to know.

"No," I repeated. "I can pay you later."

"Pay me later," he scoffed. "You think me a shopkeeper, willing to sell you something on tick, accepting pennies a week because you have the temerity to come asking for what you cannot afford!"

"Like I had a choice," I muttered and glared right back at him, meeting the angry embers of his eyes with my own burning fury. "I'll leave my car here. It's worth more than you've asked for. I'll bring you the money at the end of the week."

"I have no need for your car and no desire to bargain like some market trader." He rose to his feet and waved towards the door which opened as if commanded. "Go. Leave. You have wasted enough of my time."

I could feel the passage of time, the slow crawl of my crimes catching up to me. There was a gnawing urgency now that I had decided to stay, and I was loathe to leave the ritual for another night as there were far too few before I would lose the waning moon and have to wait another month.

In short, I was desperate.

And he was a warlock.

Bargaining was something he knew. Something he understood. It was part of who he was, and a warlock who couldn't bargain, was not a warlock for long.

"A trade," I said, as he took a menacing step towards me. He stopped and stared down at me, head tilting this way and that.

"Trade?"

"Yes, a bargain if you will."

He lowered his arm and lifted his chin, eyes narrowing in thought as he considered.

"I could do that. What do you propose?"

I wracked my brain for everything I could remember about warlocks, which as it turned out, was a depressingly small amount. What I did know, was that when they made a bargain, they would not break it.

Which gave me a chance.

"I need to complete the ritual of dissolution, tonight. Now."

His eyes dropped to the table and the items there, and then back to me.

"What do you have?"

My mouth was dry, and my tongue darted out, wetting my lips. Risky, far too risky, but what choice did I have. He was intrigued enough to bargain, and I could include anything I wanted in that bargain. He just had to accept it.

"Personal effects," I said. "And… a knife."

The corner of his mouth twitched. A smile. I was sure.

"Murder weapon?"

"No."

"What connection?"

"Used to dismember."

His eyes widened as his nostrils flared, excited. He could sense the possibilities in the bargain to be made.

"Grave dirt?"

"Gathered myself."

A slight nod and he tapped his chin with one elegant finger.

"Chalk, I will discount, brazier and matches too."

"Decent of you." I rolled my eyes.

"Your blood?"

"Not part of the bargain."

"Fair enough."

"Silence," I said, and he blinked, thoughts disturbed. "You will not speak of me or this ritual together or speculate with anyone on my role in any crime."

He shrugged, uncaring. "Agreed."

"What price?" Another double tap of his finger against his chin and then a widening of his smile that made my heart sink. "A favour to be asked, in the future."

That could mean anything from picking up his dry cleaning to murdering someone. I wasn't stupid enough to fall for that.

"Stipulations," I said, quite firmly. "Narrow your focus."

He waved a hand, smile not slipping as he dismissed my concern. "The favour will be small, innocuous, and not anything that will bring you personal harm."

"Nothing sexual." There were some depravities required in a variety of rituals that I wanted no part in. "With you or anyone else." I thought for a moment. "Anything else."

"Agreed."

"Agreed," I said with a sigh.

Lucien gathered the ritual items and went back to the cupboard. He pulled out a variety of items that would be needed and looked back over his shoulder at me.

"The doors unlocked. Go and gather the things you need."

I did as he bid, muttering all the while, and returned to find him standing in the hallway. He waved me in to a different room and I followed him cautiously.

"Don't I have to sign something," I asked as he closed the door. The black painted room was lit only by the flickering light of a dozen blood-red candles placed around the wooden floor. "Like, a contract or something?"

"No," Lucien said, not looking at me as he moved to the centre of the room and pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. "The bargain is agreed, and failure to adhere by it will have dire consequences."

Great.

I watched in silence as he drew a wide circle on the floor, three feet in width. Symbols were drawn inside and out, with a practiced hand. It was clear he knew what he was doing, and he was doing it far better than I could have.

He divided the circle into quadrants, marking each with a sigil that represented one of the four elements. Fire, water, earth and air. Then he turned to me and held out a hand.

I hesitated for just a moment before passing over the watch, signet ring and knife. He placed these in the centre of the circle and held out his hand again. I passed over the Tupperware container with the grave dirt in it.

He cocked one brow at the container and shook his head but didn't say anything. He simply pulled off the lid and sprinkled the dirt over the three items as he recited quietly.

"Through earth, I bind thee; from root to dust, thou art cast."

Lucien next gathered the brazier and spoke a word. Flickering orange flame burst forth and he held the bowl in his left hand as he lifted the watch with his right and passed it through the flames.

"Through fire, I cleanse thee; no ash remains, no shadow lingers."

Next, he poured the rainwater into a wide bowl and submerged the knife in it.

"Through water, I drown thee; no ripple follows, no spirit pursues."

Finally, he lit a stick of incense and fanned the air above the signet ring, whispering, "Through air, I scatter thee; no trace is carried on the wind."

Then it was my turn. I swallowed hard and stepped forward. I pulled out my knife and flicked open the blade before reaching up and grasping a small clump of my hair. I sawed the blade thorough it and dropped the hair into the fire.

"From flesh to flame," I said. "I sever all bonds. No blood remembers; no soul recalls."

Lucien nodded approvingly and lifted the belladonna above the circle. He crushed it in his hands and scattered it over the items he had placed back there as he said, "With poison, I end thee; no tether shall bind, no force shall claim."

The watch he lifted and dropped into the fire and nodded to me. I knelt down beside him and used my knife to cut a deep scratch in the soft gold of the ring, defacing it. Lucien then reached for the knife and snapped the blade with a show of strength I hadn't realised he had.

"With this act, I undo all," he said. "No name, no bond, no memory remains."

One last nod to me and I held my hand over the flame, palm down. With a grimace I drew the blade of my knife across the palm and squeezed my hand into a fist, forcing the blood from the shallow cut to drip into the flames.

A burst of violet light erupted from the flame and the candles flickered as Lucien settled back on his heels. He grinned up at me as I shook my hand, wincing at the pain.

"The ritual is done," he declared. "You may leave and take these items with you."

He poured the rainwater over the flame extinguishing it and passed across the ring and watch, which was cool to the touch despite being in the flame. He gave me both pieces of the knife and laughed as he saw the look I gave him.

"My part of the bargain is complete," he said. "I'll call on you soon for yours."

Just great.

I pushed the worry over what that favour might be to the back of my mind. The ritual was complete. I was safe. No scrying witch, nor necromancer contacting the man's spirit would be able to reveal his killer.

No one would know what I had done.

Now all I needed to do was find someone to blame, before Marko lost his patience and took matters into his own hands.

I just wasn't sure how.