“I—what, now?” I asked, his sudden declaration catching me off guard. “Alright, how do you plan on disposing of it?”
“I considered stabbing it with the Umbra Noctis,” he admitted. “But that idea was fraught with potential disaster. For instance, if the Book managed to strengthen itself with the poisons and curses imbued in the blade. Then I considered tossing it in the ocean, or even burying it. But I think the most obvious solution—” Casimir stood, stoking the fire with a poker as he sent me a conspiratorial smile “—Is to burn it.”
I swallowed hard. “Shall I do the honors?” I offered, praying Casimir would mistake my nervousness for eager anticipation.
“As you like,” he replied, handing me the heavy leather tome.
Slowly, I approached the flames.
Casimir watched, eyes shining, as I tossed the book into the fire.At once, the pages curled beneath the flames, sending sparks shooting into the air. The soft leather darkened to a charcoal black. After a few minutes, all that remained was a pile of ash.
Casimir frowned.
Nervously, I wrung my hands behind my back. Was that a flash of suspicion lurking in his gaze? Was he, at this moment, doubting whether the book he’d just watched turn to ash was theBook of Erebos? Based on my past interactions with the sprite, I could imagine the realBook of Ereboswould have screamed the moment its bindings made contact with the flames, sputtering ink as it burned. I waited, hardly daring to breathe as Casimir continued frowning into the hearth.
His inquisitive eyes found mine. “I admit, I’m surprised it went out without a fight,” he murmured.
I stared back at him, my features carefully blank. “It probably burned too quickly for the sprite to react,” I suggested.
He held my gaze for another heartbeat, and then shrugged.
I sighed in relief, hardly believing my own success. Guilt twisted in my gut as I recalled my last private conversation with the Book:
“I will do everything in my power to keep you—well, not alive, but intact.”
“Go on, girl, I’m listening…”
“On Saturday night, the Darkseer plans to destroy you. I don’t know by what means he intends to do it, but I cannot allow that to happen.”
As if to underscore the point, my bloodbargain seared painfully.
“Oh! But what treachery is this?” the sprite rasped. “Of all the Daemons who might’ve wished upon my ruin…”
“Yes, yes, how horrible for you,”I cut in impatiently. “It’s nothing personal. He just doesn’t want you to fall into the wrong hands.Now, how would one go about destroying a magical book?”
“Mark me well, girl, for I’ll not repeat myself. Only mortal fools do not fear mortality. But for one as immortal as I, ‘that is not dead which can eternal lie.’”
Again, that phrase from H.P. Lovecraft.“That is not dead which can eternal lie.” Did that mean that the Book couldn’t be destroyed?
“Even if you remain a sprite, if your vessel is destroyed, what will become of you?”I asked. And more importantly, what would the Book’s physical destruction mean for my bloodbargain with Evren? Would my heart stop if I failed to save the Book? What horrors might the bloodmagic bring upon my head?
The Book sighed. “I do not wish to depart from this vessel, which I have called home for o’er a century.”
“What do you propose we do, then?”
The sprite huffed impatiently. “From the Labyrinth, you shall procure a tome of similar composition and size,”the voice instructed. “On the night in question, the Darkseer will give in to distraction, at which time, you shall switch my vessel for a counterfeit.”
My mouth fell open. “You want me to swap you with another book? What, right underneath Casimir’s nose?”
“Unless you would prefer to endure the consequences of your bargain, I suggest you obey me. Remember, every opponent has a weakness. You must root it out and exploit it.”
My gaze darted to a corner of the room where the realBook of Ereboslay tucked safely inside my bag. I’d waited until Casimir’s craving for a cigarette led him to venture outside just long enough for me to swap the trueBook of Ereboswith the counterfeit. It hadn’t been difficult to find a tome of similar weight and size, and with a bit of black paint, I’d duplicated the Moros eye on the cover.
Along my forearm, my Zarvex rune pulsed, though not unpleasantly. The magic sung beneath my veins, exalting in my success, even as shame churned the contents of my stomach. In capitalizing on Casimir’s weakness for nicotine, I had at once appeased the magical bargain that bound me to Evren while deceiving my closest ally. More than my ally, Casimir was—well, I didn’t know if there was a name for what he was.My Darkseer. The phrase left a bitter flavor in my mouth.
Did it even matter what he was to me? After this betrayal, there would be no going back.
Later,Casimir and I sat on either end of his couch, imagining the atomic-level meltdown that would inevitably occur when Devereaux realized theBook of Ereboswas gone, and thus the blood ritual could not take place. We shared an expensive-tasting bottle of whiskey Casimir had procured from a cabinet, passing it back and forth until the acrid liquor made my head swirl. I was grateful for the whiskey as a useful nostrum for assuaging my guilt where the Book was concerned. The Book was intact, and Devereaux would have it for the ritual tomorrow.