Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Intent?” she asked.
“You have to tell the magic what you want it to do, and then it does it.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Not at all. But warding is the easiest, at least. If I wanted to ward this box, all I would have to do is think about wanting it and then use my magic to make it so.”
“Would that put the ward language all over the box?”
He grinned. “Not unless my intent was for it to be there. It can be masked so only I could see it, but it would be weaker. A ward is stronger the more it’s seared into something. The library has the strongest wards, as they’re carved into the frame. This is a temporary ward. It doesn’t need to last two or three hundred years.”
“I see,” she said, eyes wide.
“So, I want you to focus your intent on the box. And I want you to reach out to it and seal it shut.”
She looked at him dubiously. “That’s it?”
“If you don’t think you can do it, then you’re right.”
Well, she wouldn’t have that. She could do this.
Kierse focused all her intent on the box. The little wooden square. The metal clasp. The slick edges. This was her box, and no one else could get inside it. She would stop anyone who sought access. She pushed her will toward it, but nothing happened.
She sighed. “I don’t think it worked.”
“No. You would have felt it, but I hardly expected for it to work on the first try.”
She nodded and returned her concentration to the box. She would exert her will on the thing. And so she tried again and again and again. Nothing happened. No matter how much she focused, she couldn’t seem to get to the point of exerting her will on the box. It was just a box. She wasn’t even warding anything within it.
She slumped backward. “Ugh. I don’t have it.”
“Keep the box,” he said with a nod. “And keep practicing.”
“Okay,” she said, disappointed in herself.
“This isn’t the only thing we have to work on. You’re going to like this part.”
Her eyes perked up. “Oh?”
“Reconnaissance,” he said with a feral grin. “Tonight, we go to the underworld.”
Interlude
Edgar had many functions for his boss.
Cleanup was his favorite.
He knew that it was supposed to be his least favorite. Despite its name, it was a messy business. But he enjoyed it nonetheless.
He strode to the door of the hospital, The Covenant sign shining bright on the side of the back entrance. He’d disabled the video footage before he’d arrived. No one needed to see what came next. He wasted no time with subtleties. Edgar slammed a brick down onto the door handle and felt it rattle loose. He hauled the door open and stepped into the freshly sterile environment.
Personally, he wasn’t fond of hospitals. Too many bad memories. He’d had seizures as a child and still had them on occasion now. But when he was young, his parents hadn’t wanted to hear the word “epilepsy.” The townsfolk whispered that he had demons in him. His parents were particularly religious, and he’d gone through a few exorcisms before he’d taken matters into his own hands and gone to a doctor. His parents believed something was wrong with him until the day they died.
Maybe there was, but it had nothing to do with his epilepsy.
When he first met Graves, he’d run away from home. He was tired of the constant attention to his illness with little attention to him. He thought he was meant for more. So, he’d left his small town behind and hitchhiked into the big city.
He had been there not even two weeks before his apartment was ransacked, all of his money stolen, and he’d been held at gunpoint for even the shoes on his feet. Stupid small-town boy. Worse, he had started seizing as they ran off with his clothes. He hadn’t had a seizure in nearly a year by then. Bad timing.
Graves had been coming out of a theater when he saw Edgar seizing on the ground. One hand on him, and his life had changed. Graves had gotten him cleaned up and given him something he never knew he’d always been craving—purpose.
Edgar was an eager student. He learned everything Graves would teach him and beyond. He had no magic of his own, but he could do everything else that Graves required. Now, he was an invaluable asset. Something Graves had honed over the last thirty-five years. It didn’t bother Edgar that he got older while Graves stayed the same age. Edgar didn’t feel like he was older. He just looked it. And Graves didn’t look older, but he felt it.
He was someone worth dedicating his life to.
Including cleaning up his messes.
Edgar stepped into Dr. Mafi’s lab. He felt no remorse for what he was about to do. He wanted to feel bad for the good doctor, but she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.