I wove a makeshift hobble on Nate’s legs, then moved to his wrists.
“I
heard you two were… close, but didn’t expect the bondage thing. So,
Nate’s your submissive? Interesting.” Either the big, bad, voodoo priest
was a teenager, or he was using distortion to mask his voice.
Blood from the hive suffused the sigils I’d drawn. I pulled the threads that should lead back to their maker and end him.
“Funny
how one kind of magic trammels another.” His voice was everywhere. “If
you’d studied like your daddy wanted, you might have lived.”
Nate lunged. Grinning. Lost to me.
_____________
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