Read Online Magic at the Gate by Devon Monk - Free Book Online Page A

a not exactly what I had asked.
    “Will you help me open a gate to life and let me take Zayvion’s soul through with me if I give you my magic?”
    “Yes.” And that too was true.
    Holding the concentration necessary to support the spell was exhausting. No wonder my dad had looked so sick after casting only three spells.
    That was all the truth I could endure. Literally four questions worth. Any more and I’d pass out. I drew a circle around the glyph with the tip of the blood blade, then slashed through the spell, breaking it. I did not pass out. Go, me.
    I tipped my chin, stared straight into Mikhail’s eyes, and forced myself to say it before I could change my mind. “I came here to bring Zayvion home. I know the price I have to pay. I’ll give you my magic, but I don’t know how.”
    Relief washed across his face as he closed his hand, dampening the light from his palm. It was strange to think that the devil might have been worried that I would say no. What did he have riding on my agreement? I hadn’t thought to ask him what he planned to do with the magic. How stupid could I be?
    Fear returned, thick, nightmarish. I had no idea if I was doing the right thing. I wanted to grab Zayvion and run. But there was nowhere to go.
    “You will clear your mind and recite a mantra,” Mikhail said. “You will reach into your chest and withdraw the flame that burns there.”
    I nodded calmly as I walked back over to Zay. A part of my mind was screaming.
    “And the gate?” I asked without screaming at all.
    “I will open the gate first. Once the gate is opened, I will break magic’s hold on the guardian.”
    “No. That’s not good enough. I want something more than your word on this.”
    He scowled at me. I scowled back. I was not going to back down. This was too important. I wasn’t going to screw it up on a technicality.
    Dad swore under his breath.
    The corner of Mikhail’s mouth quirked up. “You do not know what you ask.” He strode to me, every footfall echoing through the room. It was as if he were made of heavier stuff than anything else in death. As if he was a part of the pillars that held the earth to the sky.
    “I give you my seal.” He caught my left hand in his own and pressed his thumb into the cut on my palm.
    A sweet warmth filled me. Something bit deep beneath my skin and I tasted blood in the back of my throat. I gasped at the pain, and at the pleasure. I jerked my hand out of his hold.
    My palm was just my palm. A slight shadow smudged the point where his thumb had been, but the wound was gone. I might not be able to see anything there, but I knew that magic, Death magic, curled there, planted like a seed beneath my skin.
    It was more than a guarantee—it was a part of him. I knew he was telling the truth—that he would free Zayvion and open a gate, as if he had just worked a much stronger Truth spell on me.
    And it was the only guarantee I was going to get.
    I put my hand back on Stone, took a deep breath, and recited my “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,” song again, trying to push aside the terror at what I was about to do.
    I stared at Mikhail. He waited, didn’t move, didn’t send the Hungers that shifted at the edges of the room like shadows stirred by the wind to jump, to attack.
    Okay, here was the part where it got tricky. I was supposed to reach into my own chest.
    I sheathed the dagger so I didn’t accidentally stab myself, and then pressed the fingertips of my right hand against my sternum. I pressed deeper. My fingers sank into my chest like they were sliding through soft sand.
    Ew, ew, ew.
    But I didn’t let it break my concentration. Didn’t look away from Mikhail’s eyes. Blue, like Cody’s. Filled with a curious intelligence, sorrow, and hope. Very human. Almost likable.
    Yeah, well, if the devil went around looking like a monster, he’d never be able to pay his rent.
    I continued pressing inward. I didn’t know if I was doing this right, but Mikhail seemed calm, the