"Asher Voss, Lord of the Ninth Realm," I whispered, my voice shaking like hell as I finished the last sigil with my own blood, gods, this was insane. "I'm calling you because I'm out of options. I need power to protect what's left of my family, and I'll pay whatever you want."
The ritual circle lit up under my knees, silver fire shooting along lines that shouldn't even exist. I was summoning something that should never, ever be summoned. My grandmother's pendant burned like crazy against my skin and the whole room went freezing cold. Shadows started moving in ways that made my stomach turn.
I'd screwed up big time.
~ONE HOUR EARLIER~
Death smells like smoke and iron.
I know that smell way too well now. Burning sage mixed with blood, it sticks to everything. Your clothes, your hair, your skin. We'd had five attacks in three months and this time we barely made it out alive.
"Yvaine, we have to decide something." Maeve's hands were shaking as she bandaged Elena's arm. My sister didn't even cry out anymore. None of us did.
I stared at the candles flickering against the basement walls of our latest safe house, number three this month. Rain was hammering the tiny window up near the ceiling, almost loud enough to drown out everyone's scared breathing. Twelve people left in the Tinley Coven.
Just twelve. A year ago we had thirty-six.
"We can't keep running like this," I said, rubbing my temples. The silver in my hair was doing that thing again, curling up tight when I got stressed. Stupid Tinley genetics, our hair always gives us away.
"The hunters are getting better at tracking us," Elena muttered, testing her bandaged arm. "That last trap, they knew exactly how to counter our wards."
The witch hunters weren't just crazy guys with torches anymore. Now they were organized and had all this tech that messed with our magic. Someone was definitely helping them, someone who knew way too much about how our powers worked.
"What about the Council?" asked Lily, sixteen and still hopeful. "Can't they help us?"
Maeve snorted. "The Council only protects their own interests, kid. We've always been too unpredictable for them."
She was right. The Witch Council kept everyone in line by only allowing certain types of magic, healing, elements, basic protection stuff. Anything that touched the soul was forbidden. And the Tinleys? We'd always danced right along that edge.
My great-grandmother discovered we could mess with the energy between soul and body. Healing that should be impossible, or ripping life right out of someone. The Council called it dangerous and told us to stop. We agreed publicly but kept doing it in secret.
Now hunters were targeting bloodlines like ours. Someone had sold us out.
"We have two choices," I said, standing up. "Give up, let the Council bind our magic and split up our family..."
"Which kills everything we are," Maeve finished.
"Or we protect ourselves without them."
Heavy silence. Everyone knew what that meant, using magic the Council banned centuries ago.
"How bad was tonight really?" I asked Maeve.
Her face went grim. "They found our decoy site in an hour. If you hadn't felt them coming..." She didn't finish.
I remembered that weird prickly feeling earlier, the certainty that made me insist we leave immediately. That wasn't normal Tinley magic. Something else was waking up in me, getting stronger with each attack.
"They won't stop," I said quietly. "Next time we might not make it out."
"Then we fight," Marcus said from the corner. He wasn't Tinley blood but he'd been with us since we were kids. The only non-witch I trusted completely.
"We are fighting," Elena said tiredly. "We're losing."
"Because you're holding back," Marcus shot back, looking at me. "Your grandmother told us what the Tinleys can really do."
My hand went to the silver pendant at my throat, Grandmother's last gift. Inside was a lock of her silver hair, still warm sometimes against my skin.
"The old ways are forbidden for a reason," Maeve warned, but she sounded scared.
"So is burning witches," I snapped. "But the hunters don't care about rules."
I moved to our decision circle in the center of the room. At twenty-seven, leadership had fallen to me when Grandmother died. Too young, but nobody argued.
"Here's where we stand," I said. "The hunters know our scent. They have tech designed specifically for Tinley magic. Twenty-four of us are dead in less than a year."
I let that sink in.
"The Council's help comes with a price we can't pay. So we rely on ourselves."
"What are you suggesting?" Elena asked, though her eyes already knew.
"We use everything in our bloodline. Not just the approved stuff, everything."
"Soul magic," Maeve whispered, making the sign over her heart. "Yvaine, that could corrupt, "
"Will being pure matter when we're all dead?"
Before anyone could answer, glass shattered. Something crashed through the window, spewing thick purple smoke.
"Damper fog!" Maeve cried.
The sweet smell hit me and my magic died like a snuffed candle. My hair went limp, silver threads turning gray.
"They found us," Elena gasped, grabbing her bag. "Move!"
The door splintered. Dark figures in hunter masks filled the doorway.
"Scatter protocol!" I yelled. "Rendezvous point three in two days!"
Everyone rushed for our escape tunnel. Marcus grabbed me but I pulled away.
"Get them out! I'll distract the hunters!"
"You can't use magic in the fog, "
"Don't need magic to be bait," I said, grabbing a candlestick.
Marcus looked torn but nodded. "Two minutes, then you run too."
I faced the hunters, heart pounding. Without magic, I was still a Tinley. And Tinleys were survivors first.
I hurled the candlestick, catching the first hunter in the mask. He stumbled back, buying seconds for my family to escape.
Then I ran, not toward the tunnel where they'd follow, but up the stairs. Let them chase me instead.
I burst into the kitchen, boots thundering behind me. The fog was thinner up here and I felt a flicker of magic returning. Not enough to fight, but maybe enough to survive.
I headed for the back door but skidded to a halt as it crashed open. Three more hunters.
Crap.
I spun into what used to be a study. No exit, stupid mistake. I slammed the door, knowing it wouldn't hold.
My eyes scanned frantically. Desk, empty shelves, fireplace...
The fireplace. Heart hammering, I ran to it and pressed stones in the pattern Grandmother taught me: "Every Tinley home has secrets, little silver."
Nothing. Then grinding from deep in the chimney, and the back wall swung inward.
I squeezed through just as the door burst open.
The passage was pitch black, smelling of dust and old magic. I felt my way forward until the passage widened and my hands hit a wooden door.
It opened easily.
Moonlight flooded a small circular room with dirt floors and faded runes on the walls. In the center sat a stone altar, and on it, glowing faintly, lay a book bound in silvery scales.
My pendant burned hot as I approached. The book pulsed in response, silver threads in my hair brightening.
I touched the binding and the cover flew open, pages flipping until they stopped on an intricate ritual circle drawn in moving ink. Above it, elegant writing that made my blood freeze:
"The Summoning of Asher Voss, Lord of the Ninth Realm, a ritual of last resort."
A demon summoning ritual. The most forbidden magic of all.
I should have run. But distant shouts told me the hunters had found my passage. We were out of options.
My family was scattered. Twenty-four dead. The Council would rather see us neutered than protected. Hunters closing in.
If this was our last resort, fine.
I knelt, pulled out my silver dagger, and started reading the words that would damn my soul, if it meant saving what was left of my bloodline.