Chapter 17 Savior #2
Jaga tries to pull her hand out of mine, but I’m never letting go.
I aim with my other hand. When the rarog opens its beak to spit fire, I send a powerful rope of shadow right into its throat.
It chokes on it, its flames going out at once.
The sky, lit with fire just a moment ago, grows black.
The firebird goes away to lick its wounds in Wyraj.
The night is even darker now, aftershocks of the inferno flickering across my vision every time I blink.
I pull more from Jaga. Oh, she’s almost infinite. Stronger than me, yes, I admit it freely. It’s so arousing, so fucking stunning. This woman who once drank from me because she was too weak to stand feeds me now.
“S-stop.”
The waves crash so loudly, I can easily pretend I haven’t heard her.
Her whisper was so quiet. Jaga’s fading.
She can’t stop me, and for a moment, I toy with the thought of taking all her magic, then breathing more and more into her, then fucking her magic back into her, oh, how enormous her soul would grow.
Yet, she said to stop. I pull away with an unhappy sigh, shaking my head to clear it. Have I fucked up again? Yes. I can’t do anything right with her. And Chors…
Shit. My son is drowning.
“Wait here.”
I run the few steps to the edge of the cliff, arching my body into a perfect dive.
I break the surface like a knife and use my shadows to propel me toward the faint, silvery sheen of his magic.
I grab him around the middle and propel us through shadows back to Jaga.
My final attack on the rarog spent almost everything I took from her, and I have little left.
When we’re back on the cliff, Chors lying unconscious and wet in the grass, she stares at his throat that’s singed black. Steam sizzles out of the charred mess even after being submerged. Her jaw is slack, eyes dim.
“Heal him.”
She looks up at me with lack of comprehension. “I… I have little magic. Shouldn’t you…?”
“For fuck’s sake.”
I grab the back of her head and seal my lips with hers, forcibly breathing in. This is different from sharing magic. My breath is the soul giving power, and I have plenty of air as long as I breathe in. By giving her this, I don’t deprive myself.
Jaga’s soul brims red.
She pushes me away, and I land on my ass, laughing. She’s extraordinary. Why did she keep this a secret—a thing so perfect?
“You’re Weles, the god of healing,” she snaps at me, wiping her lips as if my touch disgusts her.
“I’m tapped out. You heal him.”
Chors moans softly, a frown tightening his forehead. Jaga swears under her breath and takes his face in her palms, closing her green eye to study his wounds. I sit back, wet and uncomfortable, and happier than ever. This is my family, all of us together, and it’s utterly perfect.
We fought together, united against a common enemy. It must mean something—all three of us being on the same side for once.
“I know it hurts,” she murmurs, her obstinate hostility gone. “Let me take out the pain.”
“You don’t have a container,” I point out.
But Jaga has already coaxed the hot, burning coal of Chors’ pain out of his throat. She takes it in her palm with a grimace and flings it right into the sea.
“He can fish it out after I’m done. Or grow a new one. Chors doesn’t lack for pain, does he?”
“He’ll grow a new one,” I confirm when his charred skin bubbles and sheds, Jaga’s magic speeding up the growth of healthy tissue underneath.
“I used to take out his pain every new moon until he begged me to stop. He said it was worse to have it back after a period of ease. Let your soul spread out, love. I’ll take a look while you work. ”
Her jaw clenches, and I expect her to deny me. But Jaga sighs in frustration and nods sharply, her eyes never leaving my son’s face.
“Fine. Since you saw it anyway. By the way, you lied, you slimy snake. You said you didn’t want to go with us.”
I laugh, leaning back on my hands, my face turned up to the moon. “I believe my exact words were, ‘Go. I have things to do.’ It was a completely true statement. I deceived you, but I didn’t lie.”
Her lips purse, and I’d like to believe it’s a sign of her fighting a smile.
“You’re a disgrace.”
And yet, her soul comes free of its bounds a moment later.
I gasp, taking it in. It’s a shimmery, fiery thing, like rubies and polished copper bathed in fire, like molten metals colored with blood, like wine and poppies.
It smells like herbs and storm, and I sit up, tracing the fluttering edges of it with my finger, minding not to touch.
It’s like fabric fluttering in the wind, a divine cloak made of magic, yet it doesn’t obey the movements of air. It undulates and shrinks to Jaga’s private rhythm, something sacred and shamefully intimate.
Chors takes in a rasping breath. His voice is gritty, but at least, he can speak. She healed him.
“It’s bigger.”
I nod, measuring the longest tendrils with my gaze. Jaga is done with her task and watches me, mistrustful and angry like always. I make sure to let my awe show on my face.
“Yes, it grew, but not much. I’ll hazard a guess the biggest moments of growth happen at full magical depletion. The first time in your grave, the second—when you died in Nyja’s arena. Let me give you a breath, love. Just one. We’ll see what happens.”
“Oh, you just love this,” she hisses. “Experimenting on me.”
I look into her face and smile. “You asked for help, and I am the most qualified. But even I haven’t seen anything like this before. Only a very unique set of circumstances could have led to someone unlocking their soul like this. They are heavily guarded.”
“A unique set of circumstances,” she scoffs with a baleful glare. “Meaning you screwing with my life. I’ve had enough.”
“You’re just afraid you’ll fall for me again,” I say with a wide grin, unable to help myself. “Come on, are you so weak a little kiss will sway you? Coward.”
Jaga throws her head back and screams, and I laugh, the sound of our voices mixing with the roar of the sea.
Chors sits up, running his fingers over the delicate, fresh skin on his throat.
She healed his side, too, and pink skin flashes through the holes burned in his shirt.
When he catches my eye, he shakes his head with reproach.
Jaga’s scream cuts off. She’s out of breath.
“I know,” I sigh, still smiling. “But I can’t help myself. If she won’t love me, I need her to be angry. Anything is better than indifference.”
Jaga sighs, weary and sad now that she’s flung her anger into the night.
“Let’s go back. You have a war to fight, devil boy. So stop playing around and do your job.”
With that, she stands. Chors arches his brows in question, and this time, it’s my turn to shake my head.
I don’t know why she’s invested now, but it’s just as well. We’ll be allies, and it will be so much closer to lovers than whatever we’ve been for the last two months.