pattern that would unwind it. Bacchus’s skin pebbled under her touch.
Don’t think about that. Focus.
It took her a moment longer. There. Bottom left. Then bottom, center, top left, top right. It took her a few heartbeats to find each thread, and she paused between the sixth and seventh—this was a master spell, after all, and the Cowls had never hired her to vanquish something so complex. The spell resisted her, complacent in its roost on Bacchus’s skin. It was as though it grumbled, No, I’m helping him. See? But Elsie picked at it, bringing up her other hand to finish the job.
To the eyes of the two aspectors, it probably looked like she was playing make-believe. But the unwinding had done its work—the rune’s scent soured before it pulsed a faint shimmer she could just barely see as it gave up its life.
A second, darker symbol appeared beneath it, a faded blue tinted green from the pigments of Bacchus’s skin. No shimmer, as though someone had laid it in reverse, and the glow was beneath the skin, not above it.
“Oh.” She took a half step backward, looking at it. It was unlike any other rune she’d ever seen. It sat almost like a child’s drawing that had failed to wash clean. It was a third of the size of the temporal spell. Elsie didn’t need to touch it to see it was a master-level spell. And the fact that she could see it meant it was physical.
“What is it?” Bacchus asked, his voice strangled. She thought she could hear his heartbeat now.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I’ve never seen its like before. And it doesn’t . . . There’s no light to it.”
“Light?” asked Master Pierrelo.
Elsie nodded. “Physical runes have a sort of shimmer to them. This one looks like it was smeared on with wet chalk. I . . . Do you have something I can write with?”
“Physical?” Bacchus asked, touching the rune Elsie knew he couldn’t see.
The master aspector ducked away from her peripheral vision, but she didn’t follow him with her eyes. She didn’t want to look away from the rune. It didn’t pose any danger to her, but it was strange. She didn’t like it.
“What’s wrong?” Bacchus asked.
She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts around it. Before Master Pierrelo returned, she whispered, “It’s like someone didn’t want you to find it.”
His muscles tensed.
“Here.” Master Pierrelo handed her a piece of stationery and a charcoal nub. Backing up to the chair that had half of Bacchus’s wardrobe slung over it, she leaned on the armrest and sketched the rune to the best of her ability.
“Do you recognize it?” She held up the drawing so both men could see.
Both brows furrowed. “No,” Bacchus said.
Master Pierrelo shook his head. “One doesn’t need a knowledge of runes to use magic; they’re just an invisible force to mark that it happened. They’re the language of magic itself, I suppose.”
“Information about them is freely shared?” Elsie asked. “I could research this?”
Master Pierrelo nodded. “I believe so, yes. At one of the atheneums.”
Atheneums that Elsie didn’t have access to. Biting her lip, Elsie set the drawing down and approached Bacchus once more. She didn’t bother asking for permission this time; she planted both hands atop that dark rune.
Firm, indeed.
She hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Bacchus’s voice leaked genuine concern.
“This is one hell of a knot,” she said. Master Pierrelo clucked his tongue in disapproval at her language. “Perhaps we should return to London and learn what it is before I try to remove it.”
Try. Although she was quite sure she could. Elsie had never met a spell she couldn’t untie. Some just took more effort than others.
“No.” Bacchus’s voice was sharp. “No, I want it gone. It was hidden and placed without my knowledge. I cannot see how it would be beneficial.”
Master Pierrelo shrugged. “Perhaps it was instituted by your parents for good reason when you were a child.”
But Bacchus shook his head. “I want it gone.”
Elsie looked up at him. This close, with her hands still pressed against his skin—it felt intimate. And yet it didn’t bother her. No, just the opposite.
But seeing the trepidation in Bacchus’s countenance, she pulled free of the reverie and set to work, prodding the rune, searching for its end. It was well hidden, blast it. She carefully moved her fingers toward its center, searching. She probably looked like a new lover who didn’t know what she was doing, but she had to find the end. She tried