Dead Man's Deal The Asylum Tales - By Jocelynn Drake Page 0,20

a dead body at the bottom of the stairs. I would find mangled body parts and a lot of blood.

I had installed the protection spell when I was younger and didn’t know as many spells as I should have. It was the most dangerous and strongest spell I knew. I had picked up a few others over the intervening years, but I had never bothered to change it simply because this one, while frightening, was still the best.

With a half smile, I picked Sofie up and cradled her against my chest while rubbing my knuckles gently against her cheek. Slowly, the muscles in her body started to loosen and her breathing evened out.

“Better?” I asked.

Sofie took a deep breath, rolling one shoulder and then the other. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Have to be to try to escape the Towers and expect to live,” I said. “Do you want me to put you on the floor or on the table?”

The cat tore her eyes from the wall to look around the room, taking in the three walls of cabinets and the makeshift, chest-high table against the far wall. “Table.”

Keeping her close, I carried her to the table and set her on the flat surface amid the random flotsam I had collected over the years. There were bits of twigs, half-burned candles of every imaginable color, a row of old baby-food jars holding pieces of chalk arrayed in a line of colors, feathers, and a few dead animal parts—magic, as with potions, wasn’t always the prettiest of things to watch. Crystals of different shape, size, and color hung from leather thongs along the back wall.

There was also an old, wooden box at the back edge of the workbench. I could hear it humming as if resonating in time with some silent song that rose from my soul. The locked box held my wand. I had told the council that it had broken in my battle with Simon. I had even shown them the remains of a wand I had used a couple times and then snapped. I knew that if they allowed me to leave the Ivory Towers, I couldn’t let them take my wand. Regardless of what sanctions they put on me, I knew I would need my wand in order to survive a witch or warlock attack. I rarely took it out, rarely used it. The risk was too big.

Now I prayed that Sofie didn’t notice the box, couldn’t hear the humming. Sofie and I were friends, but I knew better than to try to push the friendship too far.

“Nice collection,” the cat said as she picked her way across the table. She leaned down, sniffing here and there, but always careful not to touch anything. “Albeit a little messy.”

“I don’t exactly have a housekeeper doing rounds down here,” I muttered. Rolling my shoulders, I forced my jaw to unclench and relax. I told myself that I didn’t have anything in common with other warlocks, but it was a lie. I didn’t know of another witch or warlock who was comfortable with someone else touching their collection. It was like letting a stranger rummage through your underwear drawer while reading your diary. “I don’t get to spend much time down here.”

Sofie paused and glanced over her shoulder at me. “That is probably for the best.” She continued on, stopping at the end of the table, where I had a large stack of black hardback journals. “What’s this?”

“Notes. For the most part, it’s potions that I’ve come up with for one thing or another.”

Sofie jumped up and sat on the top journal while staring at me with wide eyes. “And the parts that don’t fit in your ‘most’?”

Leaning against the table, I crossed one leg over the other and smiled at her. “Take a wild guess.”

“Gage,” she said sternly.

“Oh, come on, Sofie!” I angrily waved one hand at her and the journals. “Did you expect me to quit? I can’t. I can’t quit magic any more than I can quit breathing. At first, it started out with me making notes, listing all the curses, wards, enchantments, and charms that I learned while I was with Simon. It wasn’t about learning anything new. I didn’t want to forget anything that I had learned.”

“But . . .” she prompted when my voice died off.

I shrugged, my eyes dropping to the sundry bits on the top of the table. I picked up the severed leg of a raven. The claws were turned inward, still