#WitchcraftWednesday | ✔

Chapter 20: For the Memory

"I hate to be the guy to bring this up," Nathan says, "but I think we're going to have to break the spell before we bring the book back to Iceland."

He digs Veronika's kitchen knife deeper into the wood of her cabin door, working on defacing the protective symbol she carved into it to keep Nikulasson out. It isn't needed anymore: the bishop, pretty docile after Nathan's gracious offering of drugs, has been staying out of Veronika and Jinx's hair the past few days. The news predicts rain tonight, though, so Nathan thought it would be nice if the undead man could take shelter in the cabin—a little thank you for giving them a chance to set his situation right.

"Which spell?" Veronika looks up at him from where she's sitting in the grass with the book, wrapped in a plastic bag, in her lap. Jinx follows her gaze, regarding Nathan with her usual feline mask of haughty, half-interested inquisitiveness.

"The communication spell. The one that allows us to talk to Nikulasson and Jinx." Nathan takes a step back, appraising his handiwork with satisfaction. He ruined Veronika's door quite effectively, if he says so himself. The dull ache he feels in the scar the fire spell left on his body has lessened slightly now—it flared up before, as if reacting to Nikulasson, Jinx, the book, Veronika's symbol, all this supernatural, magical energy brought together in one place. Nathan wonders what this sensitivity means and how long it might last, but prefers to start thinking about it another day. He's got more than enough on his plate already.

"There's sense in that. If we're relinquishing ownership of the book, that has to include banishing its spells out of our lives. We have to let it go." Veronika takes the book out of its bag, opens it and plucks out the post-it note indicating it's her property. She states her words matter-of-factly, but there's a hint of disappointment in her tone, a distinct lack of excitement about the prospect. She turns to Jinx. "I don't think we'd be able to communicate quite like we used to, then. I'm sorry."

Jinx rolls around lazily, comfortable in the sun. Don't be, she says. We don't need to speak the same language for me to be your friend.

And people say cats are soulless.

"I'd better let Nikulasson know, too," Nathan says, turning away from Veronika and her animal companion. "Then we can take care of it before we go back to your place."

Veronika nods and Nathan wanders off towards Nikulasson and Jamie, engaged in a lively conversation a little further off. It's lively mostly on Jamie's part—from what little Nathan has gathered, she's been alternating between pestering the bishop about life in late medieval Iceland and initiating him into the Arcane Secrets of the Modern-day Smartphone. Despite her distress yesterday, she showed up remarkably well put together, albeit fashionably late and a little hungover. Though as far as good justifications for getting drunk go, Nathan thinks, being viciously cancelled is probably one of them.

"You know what I still don't understand, Bishop?" Nathan hears Jamie ask as he approaches. "Why they nicknamed you 'the cruel'. I mean, I guess you did try to murder Veronika, so there's that, but if we conveniently forget about that for a second, you haven't been very cruel at all."

Nikulasson's gaze darkens. "My own children feared and loathed me on my deathbed. That is what my cruelty brought me in life. It has lost its appeal."

"Fair enough," Jamie decides before taking note of Nathan. "Oh, hey. Are you done?"

Nathan nods, shoves his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, so we can get back to Veronika's place. But I need to let you two know Veronika and I agree we should undo the effects of the communication spell. If we're going to return the book to Iceland, we can't leave loose ends."

"I understand." Though he knows the bishop won't do him any harm, the hollow monotone of his voice still gives Nathan the creeps. "It increases the chances of your mission being successful. I approve of it."