Chapter 18 #2
He left me, half-limping, as he fell toward the nearest tree and pressed his hands against the base of the trunk.
“Come on, come on…” he muttered.
But nothing happened—assuming he was attempting to summon more magic mushrooms. A second later, a long line of what were almost assuredly French expletives only reinforced my suspicions.
“How do you know so many French curse words?” I asked, crouching down beside him. “I thought you were a kid when you lived there?”
“I was a teenager!” Miles snapped, and I raised my eyebrow at his tone. “Teenage boys curse a lot.”
“Not all of them…” I muttered, leaning away. Clearly he needed a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Miles said quickly, his shoulders slumping. He turned to me and buried his face between my shoulder and neck. He was shaking, and I tentatively raised my hand, petting his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to yell,” he said. “I just…”
He didn’t seem to be able to put it into words, but I understood.
Being disconnected from your abilities was the worst.
“Is there something blocking you?”
“How are you so calm right now?” he asked, pulling back as he looked into my face.
I shrugged. Little did he know that I was freaking out internally. However, I’d already mentally prepared for the possibility of a long and brutal winter in the wilderness.
“How far do you think we walked yesterday?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Miles sounded lost. “Maybe three miles?”
I pursed my lips at maybe .
But before we did anything, something else needed to be established. He hadn’t answered my earlier question—and the reason why could make all the difference.
“Do you know why you can’t do your mushroom thing?”
“No.” He glared at the ground. “I can feel the magic, almost like it should be working. So I don’t know why nothing is happening.”
“Could it be the forest?” I pressed, recalling his earlier statement that the roots messed with his powers. However, it wasn’t likely since it hadn’t been an issue before. “If you’re sure it’s not you, it must be something around us.”
My second question seemed to stir something in him, and without saying another word, he slammed his hand over the earth and closed his eyes.
“We’re right in the middle of a witch’s circle!” Miles exclaimed, opening his eyes. Surprise colored his flushed expression. “It’s huge! I can’t believe I didn’t feel it earlier.”
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
“There’s an extremely powerful witch nearby.” He held the tree for balance as he stood. His focus moved around us, frown deepening. “One even more powerful than the other Officers—except maybe Jonathon.”
“Is that possible?” I asked. Wasn’t he a Paragon Er Bashou?
“Maybe.” Miles frowned. “But unlikely…”
What was that supposed to mean?
“Anyway,” he continued. “It seems this circle is supposed to block any work by other witches. It’s trying to keep something out.” He glared despondently into the forest. “I can’t pinpoint where they are either.”
“Maybe it’s Bigfoot,” I offered. “And that’s how it’s stayed hidden so long.”
Miles glanced at me, sudden excitement in his gaze. “That’s a brilliant theory.”
“I was joking .” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “But didn’t you just use magic to heal yourself and also last night… to find the cave?”
Miles blinked, then glanced at where he’d fallen, frowning. “No, that was something else. Our archetypes—who we are—are tied to our element. That magic has more to do with our identity.”
Same difference.
“Regardless,” he continued, shaking his head. “We still have to press forward. We have to find a source of water. Barring that, I should be fine to throw together something to fight infection.” Miles looked at me again, his expression calmer, and eyes warm. “Thank you.”
I touched my lips. “For what?”
“For pulling me back,” he said. “You can stop now.”
What in the world was he talking about? “Stop what?”
He grabbed my hand and pressed the back of my knuckle against his unmarred cheek. My skin hummed where he touched me. The shadowy edges of the fog lifted; the day was suddenly clear once more. Something in our surroundings had shifted, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.
“I’m starting to understand what Julian meant,” he said. “You don’t need to be strong anymore. You can depend on me.”
That was jolly for him, but didn’t explain anything in the slightest.
“Can you give it to me now?” I asked. I’d reached forward, waiting with my hand out, as I sat on my knees in front of him. “You promised.”
“I did no such thing.” Miles clutched the knife to his chest as he leaned back toward the tree. His features were tight with alarm as he continued, “In fact, I told you ‘no’.”
“Actually,”—I twisted my hair into a knot at the top of my head; if I was going to do this, I could afford no distractions—“you asked if I ‘knew how to use it’, and I told you yes .”
“How is that a promise?”
I lowered my hands back to my side and studied him. The man looked almost adorable—jaw set and eyes round—staring as if he’d seen a monster. “But it’s not a ‘no’ either,” I reasoned.
His face was rife with caution, voice fearful, as he asked. “What are you going to do with it?”
I glanced toward a squirrel peacefully cleaning its adorable little face some distance away.
We’d found refuge in a moderately-sized clearing deep within the shelter of a thicket.
The space was fairytale-like, complete with a collection of late-season berries and a gently trickling stream.
On top of that, there were various herbs growing around the circle—some of which were definitely not native to the area.
Still, I wasn’t going to complain. Miles had been able to make some sort of poultice from them, lathering it on his leg and face, and that was good enough for me.
Still, there was the matter of food. We were both starving. Berries couldn’t exactly fill an empty stomach.
I sighed, watching the squirrel. It was moments like this that made me wish I’d the same foresight as Titus—that ax would sure be handy.
“I told you what I was going to do with it,” I said.
“You can’t just kill it!” he protested, not at all pleased by my statement. “My quest—”
“I really don’t think this is a pilgrimage anymore,” I pointed out, gaze flicking to his leg, and my concern deepened.
While he’d been able to limp through the forest well enough thanks to a handy walking stick he’d acquired, he was still in serious risk of falling ill with infection. “We need food.”
He groaned, shifting his weight as he moved to stand. “ Fine .” He sighed, bracing himself. “I’ll—”
I frowned at him, standing, and held my hand out to him once more.
“But…” He frowned at my hand. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
I blinked, my vision blurring at the lack of faith he had in me. He’d trusted me to confront James Cole, but not this. Why didn’t he believe that I could feed us?
Why was he trying to stop me?
“Don’t cry.” Miles pet my shoulder, his death grip loosening around the knife. “I’ll make sure we have something to— Hey !”
His statement ended in a shout as I snatched the blade and tossed it at the little furry beast, hitting it, point first, directly in the face.
“ Now will you eat it?” I asked.
“What the hell?” Miles was pressed against the tree, hand over his heart. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that!”
“Throw a knife?” Why, that was just silly. With practice, anyone could throw blades. “Do you still have a problem?”
“Well it’s dead now.” Miles looked past me, gazing at our food. “There’s no reason to waste it. Wait a minute.” He grabbed my chin. “Did you just trick me into giving up the knife?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I answered, my skin warming under the critical way his gaze moved over me. “Those were real tears.”
And they were… tears of frustration.
“Can you actually use weapons?” He was frowning at me. “Or was that just a lucky throw?”
“Um…” I tilted my head. Did it matter?
“Never mind.” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can deal with it later. Bring that thing over here so we can clean it, and then we’ll eat.”
Miles cooked—a perfect blend of spiced meat and salad. Even in the wilderness, he delivered. Yet here in the fading light, glowing warmth of the fire, and quiet atmosphere, I couldn’t quite get over the feeling that something was off.
As it had been since I’d killed dinner.
He glanced at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, with an appraising gleam in his eyes I didn’t quite appreciate.
“What?” I pulled my knees to my chin, trying to ignore the cold against my back. It wasn’t really all that bad—the thick shrubbery managed to block the wind—but we would have to make sure to keep the fire going.
Unlike last night, we’d have to sleep in shifts.
“Nothing,” he said, turning his attention to the fire. “It’s just… I never really thought about it before.”
“Thought about w-what?” I asked, my voice catching. That sort of judgmental look was never a good sign for someone like me. My heart was racing at the implications.
This was the longest we’d been alone together. Did he decide he didn’t like me very much after all?
“Don’t overanalyze,” Miles interrupted my musings. “I was just wondering, do you really know how to fight?”
I choked and pulled my knees closer to my chin.
He continued, asking the question I’d been dreading for weeks. “What happened when you fought Daniel Cole?”
“N-not sure.” I let out a shaky laugh. “It was a very c-confusing time.”
Miles narrowed his eyes, before he shrugged and tossed a squirrel bone to the side. “Don’t tell me then,” he said. “But whatever it is, nothing could ever make me think less of you.”
I found that hard to believe. It was a nice platitude, but in every relationship—or at least the healthy ones—there had to be boundaries. Something that one person could do that would be so atrocious, that there was no turning back.
“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Miles continued.