Spirit and Stone (A Novisarium Novel): The Magical Mark Halston #1 (An urban fantasy thriller) by OJ Lowe

Author:OJ Lowe [Lowe, OJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-02-10T22:00:00+00:00

Getting home had mostly been a blur, I couldn’t really remember it, nor could I recall stripping off and falling into bed. Only as I awoke did I realise the significance of what I’d done as I lay in musty-smelling bedding staring at a ceiling I hadn’t seen for months. Before, I hadn’t been able to come into this room. Certainly, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep in here, too many bad memories. If I closed my eyes, I thought I could still smell her perfume on the sheets.

Lunacy, right? It’d been months, no way the smell would still be here after all that time. That’s some shit-strong perfume, I guess.

Now though? It was like an itch, the faintest remnants of something that might have once bothered me, but I was over it. Truly. More than that, I raised both my hands, started the process of focusing my power. Simple spells, John had said. And I couldn’t think of too many more for an aquamancer than this.

Sometimes, you need your hands for a spell. Sometimes, you need a focus. Other times, you need nothing at all. It depends on your level of proficiency. A master can do it with nothing but a hard look. Everyone gets taught the hand gestures as a means of control. Sometimes we move beyond them. Sometimes, not always.

I threw out my hand, the tingling dancing across my skin as the fine spray of liquid erupted from my offered palm, dissolving into a fine puff of mist that sank across every exposed surface in the room. I’d used this for cleaning purposes once. It had that effect, quite cleansing to dirty surfaces I’d found. And it’d been so long since I’d cleaned in my bedroom that the germs had bred with each other and produced a litany of otherwise unkillable incestuous offspring. It was a rough job, someone had to do it.

I worked, couldn’t really picture myself doing anything else, scrubbed every surface flat, pausing only to apply liberal new coats of water across the wood and the glass, scrubbing until ancient stains faded. I was sure one of them was an ass-print from the last time I’d fucked Lauren. If that wasn’t a sobering thought, I didn’t know what was.

It all went. Every stain, every smell, every slight memento. I didn’t need them. I’d let the ghosts lurk in this room long enough. Time to let them die, kill them even.

Maybe that time with Charisma had done me more good than I’d immediately realised.

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