cloaked?”
Cassandra averted her gaze and mumbled. “I’d been using the book. We can read from it at any time, but if we perform any spells from it we have to remove the cloak or the spells won’t work. I forgot to conceal it again when I was finished with it.”
“Using it?” Connor questioned. “I thought the grimoire was full of black magic.”
“Not all of them are dark magic!” Cassandra replied hotly.
So it was her fault that the demon had the grimoire. That explained why she was so eager to help us locate the demon and get the book back. But she had to know that, when the book had been found, it could not be returned to her coven. It was far too dangerous to remain in the witches’ possession, even if they had managed to keep it safe for over two hundred years. The angels would take possession of the book as soon as we were able to get it from Barbatos, whatever Cassandra or the rest of her coven might desire.
“We’re ready to begin,” Silvia informed us. “Cassandra, you’ll need the chalice and the knife.”
Cassandra repeated the incantation several times while Silvia handled the unenviable task of killing the chicken. She was quick and proficient so that the bird didn’t suffer. Silvia drained the blood into a wooden chalice with the precision of someone that had performed the task a myriad of times. I stopped paying attention after the first five minutes, but Connor seemed fascinated by what was going on—unlike me, he’d never witnessed anything like it before.
Held aloft, the blood-filled chalice was offered to the Spirit then placed on the makeshift altar along with the bloodstained knife and the chicken’s head. Although Cassandra did most of the work, it was Silvia who was in control. On several occasions Cassandra looked to her for advice, and each time the older witch instructed her on what she had to do next. I wondered what position she held in the coven—it had to be one of importance because she knew exactly what she was doing, but to ask I would have had to interrupt the incantation. The spell was far too important to result in failure. We couldn’t afford the loss of any more precious hours. We only had one shot to locate the demon, so we had to make it count.
I hadn’t realised that Silvia was circling the room with the incense pot again until the thick, heavy smoke caught in my throat and made me cough. The air was filled with it, so much so that it was difficult to see what Cassandra was doing as she knelt in front of the altar, her chanting increasing in both volume and intensity. The rhythmic sound of it filled the warehouse as easily as if Cassandra was using a microphone and speakers. As I looked on, the whites of her eyes began to bleed into the iris until there was no colour left and her face contorted so much I thought I had to be seeing things. I looked to Connor to check if he’d witnessed it too, and if his expression hadn’t been enough to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating, his expletive of “ What the fuck ?” would have done the trick.
“What the hell happened to her eyes?” Oliver took a step forward, but Silvia grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
“You cannot interrupt,” she chastised. “Cassandra is in danger while the demon remains inside her. Let the spell take its course and she’ll be perfectly safe.”
I suspected Silvia’s and my idea of ‘perfectly safe’ differed quite considerably, but I kept my opinion to myself and continued to watch Cassandra’s face contort. Her head rolled around limply on her shoulders like she were a ragdoll being shaken violently by a cantankerous child. Connor was watching in open-mouthed astonishment. Even I was surprised by what I was witnessing. None of the summoning spells I’d watched in the past had turned out anything like this.
Cassandra’s face was twisted with ugliness—no, with evil. She threw her head back and laughed riotously, but the voice that came out of her mouth wasn’t her
Cassandra averted her gaze and mumbled. “I’d been using the book. We can read from it at any time, but if we perform any spells from it we have to remove the cloak or the spells won’t work. I forgot to conceal it again when I was finished with it.”
“Using it?” Connor questioned. “I thought the grimoire was full of black magic.”
“Not all of them are dark magic!” Cassandra replied hotly.
So it was her fault that the demon had the grimoire. That explained why she was so eager to help us locate the demon and get the book back. But she had to know that, when the book had been found, it could not be returned to her coven. It was far too dangerous to remain in the witches’ possession, even if they had managed to keep it safe for over two hundred years. The angels would take possession of the book as soon as we were able to get it from Barbatos, whatever Cassandra or the rest of her coven might desire.
“We’re ready to begin,” Silvia informed us. “Cassandra, you’ll need the chalice and the knife.”
Cassandra repeated the incantation several times while Silvia handled the unenviable task of killing the chicken. She was quick and proficient so that the bird didn’t suffer. Silvia drained the blood into a wooden chalice with the precision of someone that had performed the task a myriad of times. I stopped paying attention after the first five minutes, but Connor seemed fascinated by what was going on—unlike me, he’d never witnessed anything like it before.
Held aloft, the blood-filled chalice was offered to the Spirit then placed on the makeshift altar along with the bloodstained knife and the chicken’s head. Although Cassandra did most of the work, it was Silvia who was in control. On several occasions Cassandra looked to her for advice, and each time the older witch instructed her on what she had to do next. I wondered what position she held in the coven—it had to be one of importance because she knew exactly what she was doing, but to ask I would have had to interrupt the incantation. The spell was far too important to result in failure. We couldn’t afford the loss of any more precious hours. We only had one shot to locate the demon, so we had to make it count.
I hadn’t realised that Silvia was circling the room with the incense pot again until the thick, heavy smoke caught in my throat and made me cough. The air was filled with it, so much so that it was difficult to see what Cassandra was doing as she knelt in front of the altar, her chanting increasing in both volume and intensity. The rhythmic sound of it filled the warehouse as easily as if Cassandra was using a microphone and speakers. As I looked on, the whites of her eyes began to bleed into the iris until there was no colour left and her face contorted so much I thought I had to be seeing things. I looked to Connor to check if he’d witnessed it too, and if his expression hadn’t been enough to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating, his expletive of “ What the fuck ?” would have done the trick.
“What the hell happened to her eyes?” Oliver took a step forward, but Silvia grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
“You cannot interrupt,” she chastised. “Cassandra is in danger while the demon remains inside her. Let the spell take its course and she’ll be perfectly safe.”
I suspected Silvia’s and my idea of ‘perfectly safe’ differed quite considerably, but I kept my opinion to myself and continued to watch Cassandra’s face contort. Her head rolled around limply on her shoulders like she were a ragdoll being shaken violently by a cantankerous child. Connor was watching in open-mouthed astonishment. Even I was surprised by what I was witnessing. None of the summoning spells I’d watched in the past had turned out anything like this.
Cassandra’s face was twisted with ugliness—no, with evil. She threw her head back and laughed riotously, but the voice that came out of her mouth wasn’t her
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