Page 11 of Mending Mayhem
“What magic? It’s just glue.” I took it from her and examined the label. It looked and felt completely mundane, but knowing my sister… “Ash, what did you do?”
She held up her hands. “Not me. It kept getting clogged, so Cinder cast a spell on it so the glue would never dry unless we wanted it to.”
“She magically changed the chemical makeup.” Shade took the tube from my hand. “That’s genius.”
“Then why couldn’t we feel the magic when we used it?” Miles took a turn holding it.
“Because she focused it only on the contents,” Ash said. “She can cast spells through objects.”
“And we just turned all we have of Mayhem from bone to sand.” I ran my fingers through the grains, and they crumbled even more, turning to a fine powder. Cinder and I would have words if we made it through this ordeal.
“What now?” Miles asked. “We can’t summon him without his skull, can we? I mean, not unless someone wants to sacrifice their life so he can burn through them.”
“And that is out of the question.” My heart sank. How could I have been such an idiot? I’d screwed us six ways to Sunday when, if I had stopped to check on Ash after I lobbed off Mayhem’s head, I would have known I didn’t have to vanquish him.
Then I didn’t bother setting up a ward on the skull because I let Higgins get to me.
And now, this demon…this man…who’d shown me a shred of humanity, of vulnerability he’d probably never shown anyone else, was rotting in a dark prison because I didn’t stop to consider the consequences of my actions. To realize there might be a better way to handle the situation than through violence. My chest tightened, a fist of longing squeezing my heart because, goddess dammit, I missed Mayhem and now I might never see him again.
No. No, I couldn’t think that way. I would get him back if I had to go to Hell and bargain with Lucifer myself. Whoa. Where did that come from? It didn’t matter. We needed him, and we would save him.
“It’s still his skull.” I shot to my feet and paced in front of the television. “Even if it’s turned to dust, it’s all there. We can still summon him.” I squared my gaze on Chaos. “Right?”
“I believe so,” he said.
Nausea churned in my stomach. “You believe so? If we’re going to do it the way you suggested, I need you to be certain.”
He ran his fingers through the grains. “It’s still bone. It will work.”
A flash of red sparked inside the box, and a stream of black smoke rose in a spiral from the center.
“What’s happening now?” I dropped to my knees and peered inside. “Holy Hecate. It’s turning to ash.”
“Super crap.” My sister blinked at me, her eyes widening. “Ashes can’t be resurrected without a phoenix spell.”
“Phoenix spell?” Chaos asked.
“It’s the darkest of dark. A form of necromancy.” I gripped the table so tightly, my nails made indentions in the wood. “We have to summon him before his skull completely burns away. Go get the grimoire. Now.”
4
EMBER
“Bring the box downstairs.” Ash shot to her feet. “All the supplies are in my studio.”
I scooped the shoebox into my arms and carried it down, my insides tying into knots with each step I took. The bone powder glowed red as the burning spread from the center outward. By the time I reached the studio, half of it had turned to ashes.
“Here’s the containment spell.” Shade picked up the grimoire. “Does everyone remember it?”
“We don’t have time for that.” I poured a ring of salt and set the box on the floor as I kneeled to draw Mayhem’s sigil. “And we don’t have time to do it your way,” I said to Ash.
“This is dangerous.” She set candles at the five points of the pentagram and lit them with her magic.
“Do you have a better idea?” I drew his mark from memory, the familiar pin-pricking sensation dancing up my arm as I completed the final swoop.
“It must be done,” Chaos said.
I set the shoebox on top of the sigil and rose, dusting my hands against my pants before scanning the summoning spell. We joined hands around the circle in our usual positions, and the smoke thickened in the box, the bone burning until only a thin ring remained.