Bad Luck, Baby

27 - Bad Options

I stared at Al, not really comprehending his words, but Ro bristled.

"Impossible," he said, arms crossed and eyes ablaze. "Daemons cannot harm their witches. You know that."

Al shook his head. "Daemons can't harm their witches of their own free will. If another witch commands you to do so... That's another matter entirely."

"No," Ro argued stubbornly, "I was bound to Oscar's will, and to his will alone—believe me, he made sure of it. Even if another witch knew my name, the familiar-bond would have prevented them from using it."

Al sighed. "I highly doubt whoever gave the command phrased it so baldly as, 'go murder Oscar.' More than likely, it would be something far more subtle. 'Give this to Oscar for me; it will make him feel better,' or something like that—something that wouldn't countermand your existing directives. Oscar ordered you to check all his food for curses and poisons, and he trusted you. So, if you handed him something—a glass of water, a cup of tea, a—"

"Packet of mint cookies," Ro murmured. His strange complexion had turned an unhealthy shade of gray and his eyes dimmed to a dull gold. "I gave him a packet of cookies with his evening coffee, but..."

"But where did they come from?" Al pressed, his interest sharpening. "Do you recall?"

Ro shook his head. "They were his favorites."

"Were they?" Al leaned forward, green eyes fixed on Ro. "Try to remember."

Ro's brows pinched; then he blinked and his expression went blank.

"No, they weren't," he whispered. "Oscar didn't care for sweets at all. But he was hungry and distracted, so... he ate them, anyway."

He turned towards me, stricken.

"Ellie, you have to let me go," he said. "If there's even a chance this ludicrous theory is true, I need to be as far away from you as possible—in another realm, preferably.

It felt like a wave of ice washed through me, and my heart constricted at his words, but Al spoke before I found my voice.

"No good, I'm afraid," he said. "Yes, Ellie could banish you to the furthest reaches of the Elder Void, but if another witch knows your name, they could just as easily summon you back. They've already proven themselves powerful enough to do so."

"Physical confinement, then," Ro said decisively. "Bind me with a seal, or..." He paused and bit his lip before continuing more quietly. "I'm sure Oscar's jewelry collection is around here, somewhere."

For a moment, I didn't know what he was talking about; then I remembered the picture in the Book of Thrones, and all the gold chains and rings and piercings my father had forced Ro to wear. Kyrie had called them 'obedience bonds.'

"No way." I shook my head. "I won't do that to you, Ro."

"It wouldn't be forever," he said, and reached for my hand. "And I'll wear them willingly, for you."

"It's not a bad idea," Al said thoughtfully, "but there's a tradeoff. Ro is a very powerful weapon, Ellie. If you strip his power and restrain him then, yes—he can't be used against you. But he won't be able to defend you, either."

I frowned, not liking the idea at all, and Al went on.

"Besides, Ellie may not be a target at all."

"I think Jamie would disagree," I muttered.

"Perhaps," Al allowed, "or perhaps your unfortunate roommate was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Listen—" he leaned forward, "—whoever knows Ro's name has only used it once, as far as we know, which leaves at least two possibilities. One, they don't want to kill you at all—if they did, you'd be dead already. Or two, they don't know you exist. Either way, they seem to have had no further interest in Ro since Oscar's death."