Page 46 of Divine Oaths

“I can’t prove it was Alaster,” I said, and he stopped in front of the door. “Not yet. But I know he’s involved. And whether it’s ghosts or Pete and Jay trying to get revenge, I’m going to find out what’s happening with my powers. With or without your help.”

Speaking the words surfaced my memories of Nathan’s gore-soaked figure in the tunnel. Nathan died in the woodshop. If he really was a ghost, that explained his bloody form and the sawdust that covered his body. But when I’d gone into the woodshop, it hadn’t just been his presence I’d felt.

Suddenly, a realization hit me. “One of them was there—in the woodshop. Pete, or Jay. They turned on the machines. Kasem, I think one of them tried to kill me. Or maybe they were both targeting you again? Maybe they were trying to finish what they started in the alleyway?”

The light drained from Kasem’s eyes. I knew instinctively then that I was right. Kasem’s attackers were still after him. So why wouldn’t he help stop them and figure out what was happening with my powers? Why was he so adamant that Jojo was behind the stabbing instead of Alaster, or that ghosts were haunting the university?

“If Pete or Jay has returned to Westfield, if they’re working with Alaster or Jojo or whoever wants me dead, it means there will be more accidents, more attempts on my life, until the debt is paid. A life for a life. My numbered days are bound to theirs. And their ghosts will haunt me until I cross to the other side.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I said. But I couldn’t forget Nathan’s words.

Beware the mark of blood debts. His numbered days are bound to yours.

In the maze, Nathan’s words had been a broken utterance, but in the tunnel, he’d spewed that same warning.

“I’m supposed to die before my twenty-first birthday, before the terms of the will can be fulfilled and I claim my inheritance. And anyone who tries to change my fate is marked to die in my stead.”

I was processing everything, but all of this was too much.

“Like a prophecy?” I asked. “Is that why Nathan targeted me?” Fear flooded through me, a suffocating weight that made my head throb and my breath catch. “If my powers are bound to the future I saw of you inheriting the estate—if I’m connected to your lifeline now, then we need to help each other. Stop being cryptic and talking in circles. We have to trust each other.”

That seemed to shift something in him.

For a moment, Kasem hesitated. Then he lifted his shirt, revealing white bandages lining his abdomen. A hot flush burned against my cheeks as he unwound the coverings. My eyes traced his body, from his bare skin to his toned stomach, down to his lower abdomen, my heart racing. There was a scar there, at the site where the switchblade had impaled him months ago. But the wound was nothing like I’d ever seen before. It was almost like he’d been burned; the stretch of skin where the knife had met his flesh was iridescent, like oil on water.

“I’ve been different too, since then, since the stabbing. I’ve been having these dreams, dreams where I’m roaming Westfield even as my body sleeps. And when I try to wake from them, it’s like I’m trapped. Like I can’t breathe. Didn’t you see how the lights flickered and the room grew cold when the president struck me? Or how the wound on my cheek healed on its own? Even as I’m awake, things aren’t the same. It’s like my body and soul are at war with each other, and the world around me knows something’s wrong.”

All these months, we’d been navigating this weight of what had happened that night on our own. Yet, only now, dissecting our disparate experiences, were we able to piece things together.

Kasem took my hand, gently lifting the bracelet along my wrist.

As he spoke, a warm glow emanated from the cowrie shells and the gold ring. Along my wrist, a thin, translucent mark emerged. It was just as iridescent as the scar on his abdomen.

“She has survived. Release her now of her fate. Let her lifeline be free of the mark of death.”

A soft gold-and-silver light emanated from his scar and the bracelet, and with his words, pain seared my hand, and the marking on my wrist burned a clear white. The tissue there began to repair itself at his command, the mark sweltering until there was only the faintest impression of burn marks shaped like cowrie shells.

Shock radiated through me, making me stumble over my words. “Did—did you just cast a spell on me?”

Between ghosts and magic—all of this was disarming. It was like the world I thought I’d known, even with my powers, was giving way to something more wondrous and sinister.

Instead of answering, Kasem observed the mark on my wrist, uncertain.

“I wasn’t able to help Nathan,” he said. “And if what happened in the woodshop was Pete and Jay’s doing, they’ll have to kill me to transcend their fated deaths. But you survived the mark of death. It ordained you to die in the woodshop, but you lived. Your lifeline should’ve recorrected itself. Yet here it is, still bound to mine.” Kasem brushed his fingertip along the translucent marking on my wrist. His touch was an electric current that set my nerves on fire.

“If we’re both suffering like this, you with your powers unwinding, me with my dreams and sleep paralysis, then maybe you’re right. Maybe our fates can be unbound if we work together? I’ll bring you into my family’s world here at Westfield. I’ll help you unmoor your powers from my lifeline.”

Relief flooded through me, but he held up his hand, interrupting my premature celebration.

“But, Sianna,” he said, and my heart raced at the sound of my name on his lips. His eyes darkened and he drew closer, so close that I could feel the cool heat of his touch, so close that our lips were a breath apart.

“Even though you’ve been absolved of death’s mark, even though the bracelet has granted you its protection because of this, that doesn’t mean you aren’t in danger. Others could die. You still could. Because there’s a price for all of this, and you need to be sure you’re willing to pay it.”

I dug my nails into my palm, unsure how to answer.

I didn’t know if I could trust Kasem, not when he’d known my life was bound to his, yet hadn’t bothered trying to find me or warn me that I would die unless I killed him or survived my own fated death. Sure he’d saved me from the woodshop, but what if he hadn’t?

“What exactly do you need my powers for?” I demanded.