The Toad Prince

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nadaria hurried through the house, heading back to her room with the hex jar wrapped in her robe. Once there, she looked through the bag of herbs and oils from the healer’s hut. She grabbed the rosemary oil and went to the closet.

Rifling through, she found a red cotton scarf and snatched it. Sorin’s time capsule room was next, and she went to the ball-point pen. On a blank sheet of paper she wrote, Aurelia- Enemy of Mine. Nadaria folded the paper nine times and tucked it away in the red scarf.

“I really need paprika,” she muttered to Roux.

Nadaria hustled down to the kitchen. The candles flared to life when she opened the door and she found the spice cabinet. Nothing was labeled, so she scanned until she saw the deep red spice.

“Yes!” she hissed, snatching it along with some matches she found in a drawer.

On a last thought, she grabbed an empty jar and made her way all the way back out to the back garden. At Mikolas’ gravesite, she placed her hand on the cool ground. Grave dirt was powerful and possessed the qualities of the person buried there. In his case, it would be the personification of purity and innocence. It was important to ask permission first, though.

“Hi, sweetheart. Do you mind if I use some of your grave dirt to help your dad, and your Papa Aurelian, and everyone else here?”

A sudden, strong, warm breeze whipped her hair, and she grinned at the resounding approval she’d received.

Nadaria took one handful and put it in the jar.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, patting the ground. “Your dad… he will come soon, I think, okay?”

The wind swept her hair again, and she stood, walking quickly but carefully through the castle grounds with her armful of items.

Her heart thudded in her chest. This was the apex of her career as a witch. She’d never countered anything so powerful, and she didn’t even have her full magic intact. Doubt chewed at her nerves, making her stomach tie itself into a tight knot.

She half-jogged down the driveway and saw Sorin’s outline in the night, pacing.

When he saw her, he hurried to meet her, grabbing her upper arms.

“What is going on? Aurelian said you unearthed a hex jar in the tree spot.”

“Yes,” she said, holding it tighter in her arms. “I need to dispose of it at a crossroads with a spell.”

“Do you want to get Boian?”

“No. Time is not of the essence, but care is. We can’t break it before we get there, or…”

She pinched her face, and he lifted his brows expectantly. “Or what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… I know we can’t break it. It would be bad.”

“Okay. I brought you this.”

Sorin held out a small, simple dagger forged of iron that was now rusting.

She nodded, taking it. “Cool. Thank you. Can you put it on me? I don’t want to put this stuff down unless I have to.”

He wrapped the belt and scabbard around her waist, securing it. Carefully, she opened the vial of rosemary oil, and dabbed some on her finger. On his forehead, she drew a pentagram, each point of the star representing an element, and the top point signifying spirit. As she drew a circle, connecting them all into a pentacle, she said,

"Earth, Water, Fire, Air

Under the crown of Spirit, I call you here

Tonight evil will abound

but Sorin is safe, for my circle’s drawn round."

He stared at her, and then knit his brow. “I felt nothing.”

“That’s okay, you didn’t need to. Just an extra precaution.”

Sorin regarded her, and then muttered, “You’re afraid of it, aren’t you?”

Nadaria swallowed and pursed her lips. “It’s the darkest, most powerful magic I’ve ever faced, and I’m ill-equipped and possibly outgunned.”

“I believe in you more than I’ve ever believed in anyone else in my entire life.”

She blushed and dumped more rosemary oil in her hand, rubbing it all over his neck and under the collar of his shirt.

He chuckled, and she grinned, holding her tongue between her teeth as she lifted her eyebrows twice. “At least it’s an excuse to get you all oiled up.”

One of his eyebrows arched, and his stupidly adorable lopsided smirk appeared. Sorin had a sweet dimple when he did that, and she sighed, smitten with it.

The sweet interaction calmed some of her rabid nerves, and Nadaria moved Sorin’s rebel strand of hair back to its spot. The familiar action grounded her more, and she took some of the oil on her finger, and cast the same protection spell on herself, replacing his name with hers.

Nadaria nodded that she was ready and he said, “Okay. We should be able to walk it in less than an hour if we keep a good pace, and nothing too drastic happens. Like, say, a giant mob of the undead attack us.”

“Pssh, yeah, it could happen. But that’s why I hang out with you. You can handle that, right? You’ve got, like, super strength and speed and stuff.”

He sighed. “Just don’t die, okay? Promise?”

“I promise that I always do my best to avoid that outcome.”

“Why doesn’t that comfort me?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.

They walked in relative silence down the road, and a soft rain started to fall. It was just a sprinkle, but it comforted Nadaria. Rain was her old familiar friend, and it made her feel like she was on the correct path. But further in the distance, strikes of lightning cracked across the sky, and thunder rumbled its warning.

Sorin had his hand on her lower back, walking with quick strides and hurrying her along. He actually thought they might be the luckiest people in the world when they made it two-thirds of the way without encountering an undead. But as soon as he thought it, sticks started breaking in the forest to their left.

Soft groans and wails filled the wet air when the undead spotted them, and he pushed at Nadaria’s back to pressure her into a jog. The soft rain turned to a sudden downpour, and lightning snapped across the sky above their heads.

The incline grew steeper, and the silt of the road turned to soggy mud, making it slick. Nadaria kept her balance well, sliding, and almost surfing in some places.

Sorin braved a glance back and hissed in a sharp breath. There were at least fifteen behind them, tripping and slipping in a stumble to get to them. He could probably disable that many, but it would be a fight. He looked at her, and she was a picture of determined focus, eyes on the crossroads that were just coming into view.

The storm had turned into a gully-washer, pouring buckets. It ran in growing rivers down the road, as lightning cracked and thunder roared. The massive storm was almost as loud as Nadaria’s racing pulse in her ears.

Sorin’s hand left her, and he yelled, “Go!”

She looked back and watched him pick up an enormous fallen tree several times his size. With impressive strength, he swung it like a bat and took the legs out from under several of the undead.

When she turned forward, she screamed in surprise at a hand swiping for her. It was the woman from the healer’s hut, and the side of her head was flattened where Nadaria had smashed the frying pan against her rotting skull. Stumbling in shock, Nadaria slipped and fell to her butt. The storm was so intense that she slid several feet in the mud and water before she could stop herself and scramble to her feet.

She clutched the robe with the hex jar, determined to keep it safe above all else. A hand laced into her hair and yanked, making her yelp in pain. She ripped the dagger free from her waist and whirled, shoving it through the side of the healer’s neck and through her spine. The undead woman fell, but started stirring, and Nadaria wondered if they could even be killed.

A hand was on her shoulder before she could get the blade free, followed immediately by teeth sinking into her upper arm. She yelped again, but the undead was torn free from her, and a growl of aggression rippled through the air.

Sorin had it by the upper arm, and she watched in stunned horror as his fingers sank through the soft flesh at the back of its neck and ripped part of its spine free of its body. He looked fierce, scary even, his eyes glowing red, and his fangs elongated. His nails had grown long and black, like claws.

Nadaria moved on from her shock though, turning and sliding the rest of the way down the incline until she stopped on the more level ground of the crossroads where the village was on her left.

She dug with her fingers, ripping at the soggy ground. With shaking hands, she took the rest of the rosemary oil and dumped it on her head. It mixed in hair with the falling rain.

Sorin had drawn a sword, and seemed to be everywhere, all around her, keeping the undead at bay. They swarmed like insects, wailing and squealing with excitement.

Nadaria tore the red scarf in half, laying one piece in the bottom of the hole. She removed the hex jar from her robe and took a deep breath, trying to find peace and level her emotions while a storm raged and undead swirled around her in chaos.

“Question. How long is this going to take?” Sorin yelled, his voice strained.

“Longer if you don’t shut it!” she snapped, and heard his trademark exasperated sigh in response.

With her thumbnail, she chipped the black wax away from the metal ring of the lid. Taking another deep breath, she twisted the ring off, and then dug her fingernail under the lid.

The seal broke, releasing the magic and the smell. From the vile scent of it, she knew the black toad had created the spell base with blood and urine.

Nadaria nearly dropped it, fumbling to keep her hold on it. She turned over her shoulder and retched, vomiting on the ground next to her. Behind her, she heard Sorin gagging, too.

“Oh, Goddess,” she mumbled. “Be with me.”

She dumped the innards of the jar onto the cloth she’d placed, trying not to look too close. Her queasy stomach was on edge already. The finger slid out, eliciting wicked, horrific evil. Nadaria hurried, trying not to listen to Sorin, who grunted with pain and then hissed in a sharp breath.

She draped the other half of the red cloth over the contents and then dumped the entire bottle of paprika on top. Last, she hunched over the hole and removed the paper. She tore it into nine pieces, repeating:

“Enemy of mine, the hex is broke

Positive energy I evoke

Enemy of mine your power is gone

Love help me ensure the spell is undone.”

She spread the pieces over the paprika, and with trembling hands took the matches out of her bra where she’d tucked them. Everything was soaked, despite her best efforts, and for the first time in her life, she cursed the rain.

She struck several matches, trying to get the shreds of paper to burn.

“Come on! Help me out here!” she hissed, slapping the ground.

As she did, something slammed into her back, propelling her forward so her body covered the hole. Teeth sunk into her lower back by her hip, and she cried out.

“I’m sorry!” she heard Sorin yell, ripping the undead off of her. “There’s many.”

But she was focused, and sat back without answering him. The matches had spilled, all of them in the hole now, and she smirked.

Thank you.

Nadaria lit one, and it flared the rest of life, burning until she smelled the scent of roasted paprika. She hoped that was enough.

One handful at a time, she filled the hole.

“Enemy of mine go away”

After every handful, she sprinkled some of Miklos’ grave dirt.

“So shall it be from this day.”

She repeated that until the hole was filled. When she placed her hands over the spot, she could feel the evil roiling, trying to break free of her spell and escape. She almost lost her grip on it, but Miklos’ pure, beautiful energy held fast, and she pushed all the love she possessed into her next words.

Yelling and manifesting as much bright, loving energy as she could, she finished the spell.

"My spell will last for eternity!

This evil is set free by me!"

The dirt burned hot like fire beneath her hands, searing her skin, but she pushed back and gritted,

"This is my will, so mote it be!"

The heat ripped up her arms, her skin erupting with blisters like it was on fire. Nadaria held, closing her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. She thought of Codi, Aurelian, and Nicoleta. All of them were back in their prison, counting on her. Her ears found the movement of Sorin behind her, protecting her, and her heart swelled. She imagined how he made her feel. His soft gaze, and sweet words.

And she won.

It felt like a small explosion under her hands as the light conquered the dark and chased it away. Her hand snapped up, her palm to the sky, and she felt for her power. The rain droplets screeched to halt, levitating above her hand, and she grinned. But her smile quickly faded when she couldn’t ice them. Plus, the undead were still able.

Her heart sank, and a fear she’d tried not to entertain was confirmed. There were more jars. Probably hidden all over the property. To break the spell, they’d all have to be destroyed. Layer by layer.

Her hands were torched, the skin blistered and burned like she stuck them in boiling water and held them there.

“Nadaria!” Sorin called. “Is it done?”

She felt tired and woozy, but she stood. Turning, she used what power she’d freed in herself, and called all the water she could find to the road.

Sorin’s eyes widened as a vicious roaring river ripped down the mountain, heading straight for them. He turned to Nadaria and saw she held her hands out. She was calling it.

“Oh, s**t,” he whispered, running to her, and panicking because the undead converged on her as well.

He wrapped his arms around her, expecting the current to blast him in the back. After several seconds, his brain caught up to his panic, and he realized he was still standing. She’d diverted the water around their feet, washing the undead away, but leaving them standing on their own little island.

Her arms dropped, and she slumped against him, groaning.

The water stopped and turned back into the small flowing streams of the downpour. The road was washed out everywhere but where they stood.

“Are you okay?” she mumbled into his chest, and his eyes whipped down to her.

“Am I okay? My gods, woman, are you okay?”

“I think so. Are you?”

“I’m just bitten a little,” he said, lifting her to the cradle of his arms. Large, exhausted bags colored the skin under her eyes, and when he saw the burns he hissed in a sharp breath, “Gods. Your arms.”

She winced and folded them against her body. “Yeah. It hurts a little.”

“Is it done? Do we need to do more, or can I take you back to the castle?”

“It’s done. That jar, anyway.”

“You think there’s more?”

“Yes. She was a fire witch, wasn’t she? Aurelia.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

She gently waved the fingers of her blistered hands and giggled. “Just a guess.”

Sorin hopped down into the washed out road, and then kissed her forehead, her cheek and finally her lips. He held her close, in awe of her.

“You are so special, bubblegum witch.”

She laid her head against his chest and mumbled, “I had excellent help. I wouldn’t have done it without Miklos. Or you.”

He tensed, squeezing his eyes shut, and then nodded. When he looked back down, Sorin saw she already slept in his arms, and he smiled, starting the hike back to the house.