Page 31 of Too Hexed to Handle

I remove my own hand, but I do step closer, allowing his glove to graze my cheek, even though the closer I get, the more I can sense the darkness in the enchantments, like his hands are forever wrapped by the fear and misery in the magic. It must be awful for him.

He blinks, clearly surprised by my lack of reaction. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe the emeralds aren’t a cure for anything. But do you know what might help us both?’ He dips his head until we’re eye level. His breath is like frost on my face when he answers his own question with, ‘Revenge.’

‘On . . . who? How?’

His eyes gleam. ‘The Souleater who did this to us, of course.’

11

My mouth hangs ajar for what I suspect may be an inordinate amount of time, but I can’t bring myself to care. ‘How do you know who did this to us? Or where they are?’

He paces the room without answering, stopping at a hole in the wall and staring at the city of Rerta far below; a giant overlooking a miniature kingdom.

Wind ruffles strands of his hair. ‘After I was hexed, I followed the Souleater across Rerta, and into Shiverholde. I watched them attack your festival. It was unbelievable, the amount of magic they consumed that night.’

‘You sound like you admire them.’

‘The Souleater? No. But the power they have? Anyone who says it’s not magnificent is either a fool or a liar.’

‘There is nothing magnificent about a Souleater. Nothing.’ My voice trembles. Thankfully, the hexmark on my arm is a good enough excuse for my hatred of them that he doesn’t see it for what it truly is – a hatred of myself. ‘Anyone who can’t see that is the fool or liar.’

He tuts. ‘If you don’t appreciate your enemies’ strengths, you’ll never learn to best them.’

‘Is that what you want the cure for? To best that Souleater?’

There’s a slight pause before he answers. ‘You saw them that night. They have too much magic for me to attack outright. But if I can use the cure to eliminate their powers . . . they’ll be nothing. They’ll be ordinary at last. And then . . .’ His voice drops to a whisper. ‘Then I’ll kill them.’

I shiver. Between Astin, Brandon and Damian, this trip is turning into a whole alphabet of men who think murdering people is the only solution to a problem. It isn’t. Stooping to a Souleater’s level makes us as bad as they are, and I want no part in it.

Besides, what he’s planning is dangerous. If he’s caught . . . ‘What if they saw your advert in the paper? Or if any Souleater did, for that matter?’ I remember Astin’s concerns they might infiltrate the party. ‘They won’t want you finding the cure. Couldn’t you have pretended it was something else?’

‘A calculated risk. So many people have searched for the potion, I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist coming to find out if I really had discovered where it is. I advertised outside of Rerta, where the Souleater in question wouldn’t see it.’

‘Why – Wait. Are they in Rerta? Right now?’

He nods, and I have to fight to hide my tremble. The Souleater who ruined my life is less than a day’s walk from me. The Souleater Astin desperately wants to kill. After the attack on Shiverholde, it was easier to pretend they’d travelled far, far away; a distant threat that would never revisit. But knowing they’re nearby . . . I edge closer to the table, in case I need to use it for support. My knees are making several attempts to buckle. If I come face to face with them again, I may fall apart entirely.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Damian goes on. ‘Another Souleater may have seen the advert, of course, but I suspect most are too busy locking themselves inside to be interested in snooping. This is hardly their favourite time of year.’

He’s got that part right, at least.

Abandoning his view of the city, he returns to my side of the room, stopping when his boots are a few inches from mine. ‘Do you know what I thought, when I saw your hexmark?’

‘What?’

He swallows, and I wish I could sense his emotions. His lack of smell is distracting. There’s an emptiness to him beneath his clothes, like his inability to touch ripped away his ability to feel anything at all. Once again, I’m forced to rely on the softness in his tone when he says, ‘I thought it was nice not to be alone in this.’

‘I –’

He leans closer. ‘Join me, Daisy. Help me find the cure. You have more motivation than any other competitor. We can stop that Souleater before they hurt anyone else.’

‘You can do that without killing them,’ I remind him. ‘If you used the cure to take away their magic, wouldn’t that be punishment enough?’ I bite my lip. On a selfish level, pleading for their life might ruin mine. ‘How big is this cure, exactly? Would it be enough to rid us of every Souleater? Or more than one, at least?’

He straightens. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it.’

‘But you say you’re sure it exists. And you can’t get it yourself? Why?’

Another pause, like he’s deliberating how much he wants to tell me. I must have asked one question too many – or touched some kind of nerve – because his voice is clipped when he answers. ‘It’s warded against me.’