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Delphine pointed that bone toward him and continued telling the story. “The rootworker sought passage through the lion’s land, a request she posed with great respect.”
Finally, I could move some of my body. My fists clenched at my sides.
“The lion, in his arrogance, saw not a formidable adversary but a mere nuisance. So, he barred her way, with a growl and a flash of teeth, determined to show his dominance.” A dark chuckle escaped from behind the elephant mask. “But the rootworker, she did not cower. She did not flee. Instead, she offered the lion a warning, one he was too proud to heed.”
I frowned. “And what was the warning?”
“Not all strength comes from tooth and nail. Some battles are won with the mind, with the heart, with the very essence of one’s being.”
The air grew colder.
Freezing.
“The lion was amused and intrigued. He demanded a demonstration of this power, and it was a challenge she readily accepted.” Delphine put the bone back at her side.
I could barely focus on the story. All my attention remained on Emily. Her still body among those writhing serpents.
Please, be okay.
“With but a whisper and a gesture, she summoned a force unseen, a magic so potent it brought the mighty lion to his knees, not through pain, but through an overwhelming sense of his own limitations, his own vulnerability.”
My heart raced.
“In the end,” Delphine’s voice softened, “the lion learned that true strength lies not in the might of one’s claws but in the wisdom to recognize the power in others, to know when to fight and when to yield.”
I rolled my eyes.
“And the rootworker, she passed through his land unharmed, leaving behind a lion forever changed, his pride tempered with a newfound respect for the unseen forces that shape our world.”
I leaned my head to the side. “There’s a problem with that story.”
“And what is the problem?”
“The lion did have claws and fangs, but he also had nukes.”
Delphine went stiff.
“And in the end, a spell is a spell, a chant is a chant, but nukes are fucking nukes.” I sneered. “And if my mouse and I have any problems here, even more, if we don’t return to Russia in perfect health, then a particular witch, rootworker, voodoo queen, banshee, whatever you want to call her, well. . .she will not walk on, unharmed.”
I gestured to the chanting masked people. “And her supposed kin will not walk either, and her land with the beautiful garden and a house that has lasted in her family for generations, and her city steeped in music, food, and history. . .it will all go POOF! After the lion roars.”
She shook her head. “Stubborn lion.”
“Yet, have you ever heard a lion roar? Better yet, have you heard the stories of when I roar?”
Maxwell got closer to me. “Hey, man. This ritual situation is ending soon. I say we just let it all rock out, get Em, and go.”
“Why is she naked?”
“Her clothes were burned,” Delphine said. “She can’t put that old energy back on her with the new energy.”
I pointed to my mouse. “What are all those snakes doing in there? Is she okay? Is my mouse alright?”
“She is fine, lion. Why would I harm her when she has been harmed by my family enough?” Delphine’s voice no longer held any calm or softness. “I am healing her. That was the deal.”
“The deal wasn’t snakes and strangers around her—”
“The deal was healing, boy. Now shut up before you need some healing of your own.” With the bone, she pointed to the jar filled with the Eye of the Gator. “I see you got it.”
