Dark King by C N Crawford

Author:C N Crawford [Crawford, C N]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

My pulse started to race as I tried to resist the strange pull between us. “Before you heal me, we should protect ourselves against the fuath. At any moment, spirits could come flying in here, and there’s nothing to guard us from them. There’s a protection against the curse.”

“And you know it?” he asked.

“I might be able to remember it.” With my shoulders against the concrete wall, I closed my eyes, trying to remember how it looked in the ancient curse book. It was a fae rune… I tried to imagine the shop vividly—how it smelled of dried herbs, the sound of Elvis on the crackling record player, Gina sitting on the countertop eating Pop-Tarts. I’d sit by the bookshelves and pore over the curse book, looking for something good…

On the page about the fuath, someone had drawn an image of a human eating another person to illustrate possession. Blood dripped down the man’s chin. It was one of those weird medieval drawings where people had really calm, bored facial expressions while something horrific was happening.

On the opposite page, there were instructions about protecting your loved ones with your blood. The picture—now I could see it so vividly in my mind’s eye. It looked like a sort of sharp flower with triangular petals.

I opened my eyes. “I’ve got it,” I said. “Once we do this, the fuath won’t be able to possess our bodies. But this is about to get a little weird. And you need to take off your shirt.”

He did as he was told, dropping his T-shirt on the floor. My gaze swept over his muscled, warrior’s body, glistening from the rainwater.

Now, that tug between us felt even stronger.

“We need blood from each of us.” I pricked my fingertip with the tip of the dagger, then handed the blade to him. Droplets of blood pooled on my finger.

Then, I painted on his chest. His skin was silky smooth, with steel underneath. I stroked the symbol over his chest—around the blackened bullet hole—the dark heart of the sun.

When I’d finished, he looked down at it.

Was this perhaps a sign of trust? He’d just let me mark him with my blood, using a magical symbol that could be anything.

I pulled the neckline of my dress open. “Now you need to do the same thing with your blood. See? I told you it was weird.”

Lyr jabbed himself with the dagger—probably harder than he needed to, his body beaming with gold for a moment. He painted me with his blood, and it dripped down my chest. He copied the symbol, and as he did, magic shivered over my skin.

I wasn’t entirely clear about the logistics beyond this. If the blood washed off, did we have to reapply, or did this last forever? The ancient texts often left out helpful details like that.

Lyr finished with a precise swoop of red, then his eyes met mine. “What other curses do you know about?”

I shrugged. “I memorized a whole book of them. So, you’ll have to be more specific.

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