Page 58 of Professor and the Seer
“Girl?” Frieda chose an interesting time to be offended. Her back straightened. “Listen here, you misogynistic asshole. You’re dead. By a woman, I should add.”
“Betrayed!” bellowed the ghost.
“Says the jerk who was planning to replace his wife. You deserved what you got.”
The spirit of Swain hissed. “She is the reason I didn’t fulfill my destiny.”
“A destiny of what? Playing with dead things?” Frieda scoffed. “Ooh, look at me, I’m a puppeteer.”
“You mock my greatness?” Surprise lilted the words.
As John inched closer, he had to wonder at Frieda’s plan.
“Why would I make fun of you when you’re already so pitiful?” She shook her head. “I mean, you spent how many years locked in a cabinet, stuck inside your own book?”
“When she murdered me, my grimoire was the only thing I could tether my soul to,” complained Swain.
“Pathetic. And now you’re back, pretending you’re big and bad.”
“While you stall in the hopes your lover will save you. Only he can’t. Professor Mosby isn’t a fighter. And you’re just a seer.”
“Just?” Frieda repeated. A chill wind suddenly slipped past John and circled around her, not only lifting her hair but floating her a few inches from the floor. The voice that emerged wasn’t one he’d ever heard. Every syllable she spoke rang out and hung heavily. “I am the prophetess foretold. One of the three. Blessed by he who was forgotten. I see the future. The past. And I shape the present.”
“Fancy words, girl.” An antagonizing taunt.
“My name is Pemphredo Grae, and I won’t be insulted by the likes of you.” With that, she spread her hands wide and shouted, “Begone!”
John had only a second to throw himself behind a bookcase before Frieda began suctioning. It took only a second for John to realize she didn’t appear to be pulling in magic, but she did something because Swain wailed, “No! What are you doing?”
“Taking away all your futures.” Much like a balloon that lost its air, the ominous spirit that used to be Swain shrank. With a pop, the ghost of the necromancer winked out of sight, and Frieda collapsed.
John ran to her side. “Frieda!” He slid to his knees and dragged her into his lap.
Her lashes fluttered. “Oh, that was unpleasant,” she murmured. “His possibilities tasted vile. I think I’m going to be sick.” She leaned away from him and dry heaved.
Or so it appeared. Globules of black smoke streaked with magic puffed from her lips and scattered.
John hugged her to him. “Frieda, let me help you. Give me the excess magic.”
She pushed at him weakly. “You don’t want it. It’s bad. So bad.” She puked up another ball of black mist. Dark magic that dissipated before he could grab it.
“I can handle it. It’s something I’ve learned to do because of my excursions into tainted places.” Exploring ruins had led to him building a tolerance for arcane curses. His old professor had called him a magic filter that not only cleansed dark magic but stored it for later, much like a battery.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she gasped, her face constricting in discomfort.
“But you are. I can’t stand to see you suffering. Let me help,” he pleaded, brushing his mouth to hers.
With a sigh, she whispered, “Don’t claim I didn’t warn you.”
Their lips touched, and with that intimate connection, it proved easy for him to take the dark magic flowing through her. After all, she’d already done the hard work of destroying Swain. A good thing, since John had been struggling to figure out how to contain the spirit. It wasn’t like he could fight it with his fists. All it would have taken was a single touch and he’d have been a husk like that poor boy on the floor.
Frieda, though, didn’t need to lay her hands on the ghost. Her issue was she didn’t yet know how to get rid of the aftertaste.
The darkness entered him, and while unpleasant, he handled it, his ability removing the bad and leaving only the good behind.
As to where the nasty parts went? When he ended the kiss, it was to turn his head and cough. He coughed hard enough a dark pebble emerged and hit the floor.
Frieda recovered enough to see it and say, “Did you just hork up a rock?”