“Shadow,” Killian says, stepping up beside me. “You could die.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t particularly want to think about it, and I can’t argue – he’s right. I could die. I could die now, playing with magic and power that I know nothing about. I could die tomorrow, being in the presence of Sabers who find me intolerable. I could die in two days when my bubble runs out of room to shrink.
His bare feet are heavy on the steps and then heavier on the veranda.
“And that would make a mess of things,” he mutters.
“What kind of things?” I ask, because to me, me dying is only going to make a mess of me.
“Everything,” he says, his voice lowered so only I can hear. He holds his fingers up in front of his face and snaps them, igniting black smoke that quickly vanishes.
Vanishes like the line of prophecy that he tore from the note and disintegrated. The one thing to fight a grimm is something that’s finally dead, the words dance through my mind.
“Wait,” I say, stopping and grabbing his arm to make him stop beside me. “You don’t think I’m supposed to die?”
I find myself talking in low tones too, even though Roarke is already inside, and the other two are way back by the remains of the fire.
“Oh, I do. But your death involves the grimm – not healing this.” He grabs my fingers and pulls them up – sending sharp pain through every part of my mind and body. “If you die, it will not be at the hands of one of us – I’ve been working very hard to make sure of that.” He cradles my arm along the length of his, relieving the pressure and partly relieving the pain. “My light is not allowed to die a worthless death.”
Mud shifts and slides in long wet tendrils down from my hair, under my shirt, and along my spine. Helping me focus through the fading black in his eyes as nothing but emerald green meets my gaze.
I might be about to say something. I have no idea what, but I don’t get the chance before he growls, “You’re shaking. Get inside.”
By the time she’s dragged herself into the bedroom she’s shaking.
“Shock.”
An ominous sign – her system is already struggling, and we’re going to try to push more magic through it.
“Shower,” I suggest. Then clean clothes.
Killian grabs a towel and tosses it at her – which she fails to catch and stands for a long second with the thing draped over her head.
“Rub down,” the man grunts.
With the towel around her, she looks almost incapable of… anything. I’m hardly in any position to help her shower; damned sure not going there.
Options. Killian helps her shower – clearly not happening. Get Seth in here, and in the meantime her system keeps shutting down, trying to deal with the damage to her arm. Or we just get on with the healing.
I scoop her up. No argument. No resistance. It’s helped immensely by my tendril of desire that she latches on to. It’s so quick, so instinctive, that if I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t pick up on it.
Calm and fine, my power says.
Everything is okay, she echoes.
She wraps her good arm around my neck and draws in a long, pain-free breath.
I settle her onto the couch, the really big towel cocooning her, while Killian moves to hover beside the door. He stares out at the fire, Pax, and Seth.
“What do I do?” Kitten asks, a giddy excitement in her voice – now that the pain isn’t in control.
“When Sabers get help from a HealingSeed, the healer extends their energy, and our bodies latch on to it, direct it, tell it what to do. I don’t specifically have healing power, so I’m pretty sure this won’t work. The only way I think this may be possible is if you consciously focus on your arm and your body’s natural, if slow, healing ability. You need to Allure your body into healing. Allure it into thinking that my power is its own and use it accordingly.”
“And Killian’s going to stop me from hurting myself?”
Killian chuffs. The guy wants to get out of here more than help. He doesn’t want to fix the extra damage he’s done.
“That’s the idea,” I say, looking at Killian with a sincere promise that if this goes wrong because he lets it go wrong, there will be ongoing problems between us.
“I’ll stop you from killing yourself,” he says. “I promise.”
Words which are underlined by a pure desire that slips so quickly back into his Darkness I’m almost not even sure they were there.
Kitten smiles. “Okay, I’m in, you’re in, he’s in.”
“Describe what you were doing when you confronted that mortal mage?”
“I just got mad.”
I shake my head. “You can’t do that. Allure is like softly strumming a harp into a tune, not pounding a veil-drum.”
She frowns at me. Right – mortals wouldn’t know what a veil-drum is.
I grip her good arm, pulling it free from the towel and pushing her sleeve back. My fingers rest at the crook of her elbow, and heat from my power begins to slip into her skin. It instantly looks to draw back from her.
I push at its edges, forcing it into some kind of control, then slowly draw my fingers along her skin. I unavoidably enjoy the gasp of excitement that escapes her lips. I could take her pain all day and not hurt her soul. She could probably steal a little Allure from me all day and not feel it – if she used it properly. But what we’re about to do involves more than a little Allure.
I tease my finger along her arm, drawing
