Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [108]
“Something more important that this?” Cassandra swept a hand across the table piled with books.
“You can read just fine, Cass,” Aaron said. “Pull out a chair and let’s get to work.”
Wherever Adam was taking me, it wasn’t within the walls of Cortez headquarters. Something so secret that he didn’t dare discuss it where they could be listening in? When he pulled up to his hotel, I was sure that was it. We walked to his door.
I waved at the DO NOT DISTURB tag in his lock. “Better take that out or you won’t get your room cleaned.”
“I don’t want it cleaned.” He covered my eyes. “I told you it was a secret,” he said when I objected.
He opened the door and prodded me inside. Then he took his hand away and I knew why he didn’t want the maid service coming in. The bed had been pushed against the wall, opening up the middle of the floor. Using electrical tape, he’d “drawn” symbols on the carpet. Censers and candles and books were scattered over the tables.
“A black mass?” I said. “For me? You shouldn’t have!” I hugged him.
“If I’d really set up a black mass, you wouldn’t be hugging me. You’d be on the phone to Paige, telling her I’ve been possessed again.”
“Mmm, not sure I’d call Paige. Remember what you tried to do when you were possessed?”
“That was not me. And don’t remind me. I’m still creeped out.” He walked to the symbols. “Okay, so take your place at the north point and we’ll begin.”
“Begin what?”
“Does it matter? You trust me, right?”
I knelt by a censer of vervain and lit it. Once it was going, I blew the smoke in his face.
“Cut it out,” he said between coughs. “I’m not possessed, okay? I was kidding about not telling you. Well, I did think it would be nice if I could spring it on you without the explanation, but the ritual requires active participation.”
“What ritual?”
“A Savannah Special. I’m going to give you back your powers.”
I stared at him.
“I’m . . . going . . . to . . .” he enunciated slowly.
“Give me back my powers? You can do that?”
His grin was so dazzling I swear my knees weakened. Then he rubbed it away.
“Sorry. Got a little carried away and forgot the qualifier. I’m going to attempt to give you back your powers. I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I didn’t think the ritual would work, but I can’t promise anything, of course.”
“You found a ritual . . .”
He strode to a stack of books on the desk and picked one up. “It starts here. An account of a family of witches in ancient Greece whose powers seemed to be drying up from lack of use. When increased practice didn’t help, they spent twenty years searching for a cure and finally found it here.”
He pointed to a ritual written in spidery strokes. “Not your situation, I know, but it was the starting point. From there, I found two other cases that referenced the first.” He lifted two books. “Both are only partial accounts. In one a sorcerer gave up his spellcasting in a demon pact. The other sorcerer swore he didn’t, but either he was lying or tricked. They both adapted the earlier ritual. One sorcerer’s worked, the other’s didn’t.”
He pushed the books aside. “Still not quite right, so I branched out from there—”
He kept going, referencing and cross-referencing accounts until my head was swimming.
Finally he turned to me. “So that’s it. If this works, we’ll have your powers restored in a couple of hours.”
I looked at the pile of books, and I couldn’t imagine how much work this had taken. Then I looked at the circles under his eyes and the faint lines by his mouth, and I could imagine it.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“I’ll settle for a thanks and a beer if it works.” He paused. “Maybe a few beers.” He led me back to the ritual circle. “Before we start, though, I want to say that I didn’t do this because I think you need your powers back. You’d be okay without them, Savannah. Just not as safe. And not as happy.” He looked at me. “I know how much they mean to you, and I want you to be happy.”
I glanced at him, and I thought of what he’d done here. Of all the hours he’d spent digging for an answer, even when