Garden of Dreams and Desires - Kristen Painter Page 0,28
clean sheet of paper before filling a glass with water. Then she popped open the paint tray, picked a brush and wet it. She swirled the brush in green paint and began to cover the candle with paint in long, sloppy strokes.
“Hey, what are you doing? You’re ruining the candle.”
“No, I’m not.” The candle’s sides were swathed in green. Zara put the brush down and held the candle by the top and bottom, careful not to touch the paint. She turned the candle longways, laid it on the paper and rolled it from one end to the other. Returning the candle to the counter, she pushed the paper toward Giselle. “There are your sigils.”
Giselle looked closer. The designs on the candle had left behind a print like a rubber stamp. “Unbelievable.” Seen on paper like that, the confusing markings made sense. There, in the green paint, one sigil stood out. She pointed at it. “This has to be the one. It’s the only sigil that’s repeated.”
Zara seemed to almost tremble with excitement. “I was wrong not to share more about the process of preparing for the spell with you. I’m sorry about that. I was a little ashamed to tell you I didn’t have everything I needed.”
“Zara, we’re a team. Or at least we should be. It seems that’s what mother wanted. I want it, too. I want to help.”
“I agree that mother intended us to do this together. Why else would she divide the parts this way?” She smiled. “I’m happy you feel that way. I do, too. We’re so much stronger together.”
“Good. Then that’s settled.” Giselle glanced at the sigil again. “You think that’s the right one for the chaos spell?”
“Absolutely.”
Giselle wasn’t so sure. “If this is the right sigil, why didn’t the spell work when Mother cast it? It ended up turning inward and destroying her.”
Zara’s happiness faded a bit. “I… I don’t know.” She studied the candle. “And if it is the same one, it’ll kill us, too.”
“Maybe she thought it was the right one. Look, as much as I want to break the fae’s grip on us, I don’t want you casting this spell if it could… hurt you.” A rare ache of emotion filled Giselle’s gut. “I can’t lose you, too, Zara.”
“You won’t. I’m more powerful than Mother, especially thanks to Ian’s ink work. And while I’ll be casting the spell, there will be three of us controlling it.” She paused for a moment, hefting the candle. “I think I know a way to test it. Won’t take me long.”
“That would be great. Then we can go back to filling the well with souls and preparing to cast the ruina vox.”
“About that.” Zara set the candle down. “That’s not exactly the spell we’re going to cast.”
That was news. “What have you been working on all this time then?”
“The information in the grimoires Mother left me was for something… stronger. From her notes, it seems the spell she cast was meant to be more of a test run. The one she was practicing for, and the one we’re going to cast, is the ruina vox totem.”
“Which is what?”
“The ruina vox was meant to temporarily disrupt all fae magic throughout the city.”
“Right. For about twenty-four hours. Just long enough for us to cast a few more spells that would destroy the fae strongholds and take out a few of their key people. What’s the new spell do?”
Zara’s eyes took on an unusually brittle light. “The ruina vox totem won’t just work for twenty-four hours. It will destroy the power of any fae on Orleans Parish soil for good.”
Augustine was sitting at the breakfast table with Lally when Ava Mae walked into the kitchen. Being unsure about last night made her even less certain about how to greet him. She kept it simple with a smile and “Good morning.”
He nodded. “How’d you sleep?”
Was that supposed to mean something? She had no idea. “Fine. You?”
He smiled and nodded. “Good. Really good.”
She bit her lip. That sounded like something had happened last night. She tried to think, but again came up empty. Feeling utterly foolish but not wanting him to know, she smiled right back as she made her way to get coffee. “I’m happy to hear that.”
Lally shot her the same questioning side-eye she’d been giving Ava Mae every morning. “Where you off to all dressed up like that? The circus in town?”
Harlow’s laugh echoed in Ava Mae’s head. She’s right, you know. Only clowns wear that many