Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,102

heart. It was weird and awkward, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to risk losing contact with them again. I stood up, ignoring the remnants that continued to swarm around and through me, drew the knife from the sheath on my back, and swiftly made a shallow cut on my right forearm, well above the broken part.

As the blood beaded on my arm, I felt the frenzied remnants go still, attracted to the death magic in my blood. Ignoring them as best I could, I knelt down on the tiles, dipped my fingers in the blood, and drew a dark red circle. It was clumsy and a little lopsided, but it closed tight, and that was all that mattered.

It seemed like there should be words—an incantation, a spell, something—but Simon had told me that the stronger the witch, the less necessary rituals became. So I just stepped outside the circle, looked down on it, and concentrated on a single word, a single idea. And when I was ready, I said it out loud.

“Door.”

There was no puff of light, no smoke, no glitter of any kind. But the brown tile at the bottom of the amphitheater faded away, replaced by a dark, swirling smoke. It was neither ominous nor celestial; it was just an exit. A bridge.

I felt the attention of the remnants and raised both my arms. “Go,” I commanded them, in the same tone I used when I pressed vampires. “Be at rest. Be at peace. It’s time.”

One by one, the remnants drifted toward the circle I’d drawn—the bridge to the other side. They crossed over the line of blood, some hesitant, some greedy, and each one sank into the tile and vanished, not unlike the way the draugr moved through the earth.

My body, which had been in such pain only a few minutes earlier, thrilled with the magic. The pain was still there in the background, but it had been replaced, however temporarily, by something else. A radiance I had never expected.

I assumed Lysander was still at the top of the amphitheater, but as long as he didn’t come down here, I didn’t bother looking for him. My attention was on the remnants making their way across the line. Many of them passed through me on the way, but I felt nothing except a brief gust of cold. After a few minutes I closed my eyes and dropped into my boundary mindset, where I could see more detail.

They were smiling at me. Every single one of them. Smiles of gratitude, of relief, of incredible peace. I smiled back, tears running down my cheeks.

One of the remnants seemed just a little brighter and more alert than the others. He held back a little, and after all the others had gone through, he turned to me and extended a hand, palm up. Hesitantly, I moved my good hand to hover over his. He bent down and pressed his lips to my hand, the briefest kiss of cold. Thank you, he mouthed as he looked up at me. I nodded, and he took a step backward, his grateful eyes still on me. He vanished through the circle.

I released the mindset and crouched down, my broken wrist cradled to my chest. I licked a finger on my good hand and carefully wiped away a line of blood, breaking the circle.

Lysander floated up through the ground a few feet to the side, making me topple over in surprise. He had shrunk down to my own height—apparently directing the remnants was magically taxing. But his smile was cruel as he raised his hands to applaud. How had a thousands-year-old conduit learned about sarcastic applause?

“Very impressive,” he said, not sounding particularly impressed. “Someone has been teaching you.” He closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath, but I recognized the expression. He was feeling around with his magic too. Extending his senses, as Simon would say.

His eyes opened. “Perhaps the dead boundary witch here in Denver has taught you a few tricks? I must remember to pay her a visit later. Thank her for helping my daughter.” His smile said that he would be doing anything but thanking Nellie.

“Fuck you,” I managed to say, still clutching my broken wrist. “Get out of my state. Go crawl back into your hole.”

He laughed. “You still don’t understand, do you?” He gestured to the tiles, which still held the broken circle of blood. “None of this matters. You killed Emil, you laid the remnants to