A Ragged Magic Read Free Page A

avoid him, no way out. His face looms suddenly over mine, and I flinch, cry out.
    Without comment or notice, he uses a knife to slice off the remains of my gown. I gasp, sure this is it, not ready, ready, not ready — but he just rips and tears away the cloth, careful not to cut my skin. I weep and shake.
    He lights candles that smell acrid and strange, traces symbols in the air. He chants sharp, biting words, hissing words. I do not know this spell, but the air feels wrong, wrong, wrong.
    There is a knife. I see it descend. I feel the bite and pull of it on my leg, the sting, the pain. I am screaming, but there is no sound. A throbbing burn kindles deep in my bones. I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can only weep and suck air in and out.
    Out of the air, the symbols he traced begin to glow a pale purple. A kind of smoky fire fills the chamber, shapes writhe and hiss in the air, whispering words it hurts to hear. Gantry’s chanting has not stopped, and the shapes surround me, the cuts he is making on my body. Evil eyes glitter, mouths lap at my blood.
    I cannot move, I want out, out — why can’t I pass out?
    He moves me when he needs to, rearranging my body, cutting careful shapes, and I feel my soul leaving me, draining into the growing monsters. Demons, I think and try to jerk, try to do anything.
    The knife carves up my skin, all my skin, and I am not yet dead. I cannot stay here, cannot live here. I struggle to move, to die.
    My body shudders as the demons come closer to my face. Gantry curses, the ghostly flames surge and I gasp, gulp in bael-fire, choke.
    I cannot breathe, I cannot see. I am afraid to die, now — what happens to my soul? But I don’t want to stay here.
    Gantry curses and shouts. Ruined! I have ruined something.
    A small coal of triumph burns bitterly under my fear. Good, I managed something, anyway.
    Gantry rips at my bonds, shaking me.
    Bright pain burns everywhere, and still choking, rushing in my ears, I spin away into the dark.
    ～
    My wrists burn, I am panting, pulling, shackled to a stone wall to await further questioning or death.
    But there weren’t any questions before, only pain, and screeching, and chanting. The knife cutting deep in my body, carving and twisting my skin for an eternity. Gibbering cries fill my mind again and I remember the bishop’s curses, see his blue eyes glow purple as I gasp, inhale the demon bael-fire.
    The bael-fire burns, it breaks me. I breathe in screams without noise. My heels drum against the wall as I shudder, remembering, and I pull harder against the shackles.
    The iron burns; I feel it in my wrists so aching and cold, the only specific pain. All else melts into a roar of river-rushing blindness. Through the roar I hear the tapping blap of water on stone, the scuttling of small things, and my own gasping.
    I twist my wrists, egged on by stabs and jumbles of pain from my body. I know I am dying, but I can’t just let go. I try to cry out, try to escape, try to live.
    Cold water splashes over me, shocks me quiet. I hang from my wrists, wheezing, staring into the flare of torchlight beyond the bars. Bars. A cell. No demons anymore. Just the pain, and death on its way.
    “Shut up, witch!” A broad face with a scowl, broken teeth, a face that warps into whispering demons; dread fills my stomach.
    I twist my wrists harder, blood leaking down to my armpits.
    The guard laughs, then chokes, his eyes wide and white, twists back from the cell and smashes into the wall, hard. He grunts only once as he slides to the floor.
    A gleam of blond hair, a woman’s alto voice. “Connor, quick, give me the keys.”
    “My lady, are you sure this is wise?” A dark figure, a deep tone.
    “You threw the guard against the wall. It’s a little late to be asking that now.”
    I cannot see them, not clearly. Shivering, I search the shadows while my hair drips, sticks to my weeping wounds.
    The woman steps quickly into the cell as the door clangs softly open. The wavering