Chapter Eight
‘Do not cross that line.’
Words I’d heard Catherine say, spilling forth from my lips.
The wolf, the Were, looked unmoved by my threat. It paced back and forth as the rain thrashed down, a live action blur between us. Behind me, in the hotel ballroom, there was only screaming. Half the party ran for the doors, the other half were locked in place, too afraid to move a muscle.
‘Do not cross that line,’ I said again, stepping in front of Jackson and rolling my shoulders as a fast-flowing river of magic washed over me.
It covered my skin and filled my veins, consuming me.
No prickling in my fingertips, no gentle tingles, just straight fire, burning me up.
I knew the words to say without thinking.
The wolf had to be challenged, this was my place, these were my friends and I would protect them no matter the cost.
‘Turn around and leave right now.’ I widened my stance, steadying myself. ‘And you might survive the night.’
The wolf wasn’t listening. Instead of obeying my commands, it continued to prowl up and down the terrace, daring me to come outside.
A risky move. Who knew if either of us would survive if I did?
Stalking closer to the doors, my feet barely leaving the ground, I held my breath against the rising heat inside me.
A fingertip’s distance from the threshold, I heard an alarm blaring, screeching through the background noise.
Then, without warning, it began to rain inside as well as out. I looked up, momentarily confused.
‘Emily!’
Across the room, standing next to a bright red lever on the wall, I saw Jackson staring at me. The fire alarm. He’d hit the fire alarm to clear the room.
‘Em, let’s go!’
Jacket in hand, he jerked his head towards the exit as his friends flooded from the room, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t back down. And when I didn’t make a move to join him, he was at my side, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.
‘Don’t think about touching her,’ he yelled when the wolf drew back its lips and snarled, vicious teeth on display. Sharp enough to tear through flesh like freshly baked bread.
Since arriving in Savannah, I’d encountered two Weres in phase and neither had shown the slightest suggestion of fear.
Cole’s attack had been relentless, even in the face of death.
His jaws snapped at my throat until every ounce of life was drained from him.
Dosed with wolfsbane and torn up by silver barbs, Wyn had had continued to fight Catherine, in spite of the excruciating pain.
This wolf certainly wasn’t scared of Jackson.
It didn’t even seem afraid of me. But it should’ve been.
Magic flared as the knowledge of my ancestors swirled inside me.
Ways to kill a wolf; a silver blade, a silver bullet, decapitation, suffocation.
If I could get it into the ballroom, if I could suck the air out of the room …
I would be no better than Catherine.
Guilt knocked me backwards and blunted the edge of my threats.
Weres preferred to stay hidden, like witches.
There was only one reason I could think of for this wolf’s appearance in such a public place.
It had come for the witch who killed one of its kind only two moons ago and my first reaction was to kill again.
End the life of another living being to save myself when I was the guilty one.
There wasn’t time to battle with my conscience.
Having waited long enough, the wolf lunged at me, slicing through the rain with terrifying agility for a beast its size.
But if it wasn’t afraid, neither was I. A wolf had tried to kill me before and I’d lived to tell the tale.
Holding my ground, I unclenched my fists and prepared for the fight, to stop the wolf but not kill it.
But instead of tearing teeth and matted fur, I felt a pair of strong hands grabbing at my waist to hurl me out of the way.
As I tumbled to the floor, I saw Jackson stumble forward onto the terrace and throw himself in the wolf’s path.
‘No!’ I screamed as its claws sliced his belly open. I saw the dark red stain of blood glistening against his skin and staining his white shirt red, then he fell to his knees. There was no look of pain on his face, only surprise – a reaction I remembered all too well.
‘Jackson!’ I scurried towards him, scraping my wet hair out of my face as the wolf regrouped. ‘You’re going to be OK, just breathe. Can you keep your hand pressed down here for me?’
I grabbed his jacket from the floor and placed it over his injury, pressing his hand over the top.
‘Em,’ he muttered, paling as the wolf reared for a second attack. ‘You need to run.’
‘No.’ I rose to my feet, any trace of confusion gone now. ‘It’s the wolf who needs to run.’
Catherine warned me never to think of my magic as power.
Our abilities were a gift, a connection to the blessing, something freely given and gratefully received.
Power was sought by people who wanted control, but as the pink orchid in Bell House had reminded me, control was an illusion.
We could only ask for what nature was prepared to offer.
If you took more than you were entitled to …
Well, I had seen what happened to my grandmother.
But it was hard to keep that in mind when my friend lay bleeding on the ground beside me.
Filled with rage, I raised my hands and focused my attention on the wolf.
The water streaming from the ceiling swirled up into a tornado that twisted in the air, sucking up plates, glasses, chairs and tables.
I took one step towards the wolf, then another, my anger surging, changing into something like anticipation, and with every moment, my desire to keep the beast alive dissipated.
I wanted it to attack me. I wanted a reason to strike back.
‘Do it,’ I said, flicking my wrist to drag a concrete fire pit across the terrace as if it weighed nothing at all, and raising it above the wolf’s fragile skull. ‘I want you to.’
The Were wasn’t afraid but it wasn’t stupid. It lowered into a crouch, head lowered, hind legs ready to spring.
Suddenly, new sirens joined the chorus howling through the ballroom, growing louder as they approached the hotel from the street outside.
The wolf pricked its ears, its stance shifted.
With the rain still beating down, it gave one last gnash of its jaws and leapt over the edge of the terrace, bounding off down the street with unnatural speed and disappearing into the night.
‘Em?’
Jackson’s voice was too weak.
Panting, I dropped the fire pit and it landed with an almighty thud, splitting in two and cracking the concrete slabs beneath it.
The plates and glasses, chairs and tables, all of it clattered to the ground as the tornado died down.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and, willing the overwhelming rage inside me to calm, I dropped to his side and cradled his head in my lap, removing his hands from his stomach to check the wound.
‘It’s gone.’ I winced at the ugly gash as I peeled away the sodden fabric of his jacket. ‘Everyone is safe now, because of you.’
He was still bleeding, the flesh of his stomach visible as blood pumped out with every shallow breath, but if he felt any pain, it didn’t show.
‘Because of you,’ Jackson said, his lids fluttering shut, the words barely a whisper. ‘Because of you.’
‘Oh no you don’t,’ I said, summoning all the fire in my blood. ‘You keep those eyes open. I need you to stay with me. Keep breathing – please don’t go.’
The blessing could heal most wounds, no matter how severe, but there was one thing it could not do and that was bring anything or anyone back from the dead.
From the state of his stilted breathing and fading heartbeat, I could feel Jackson fading, teetering over the edge.
Outside, the rain was still pouring down, fresh water full of the energy I sorely needed.
Laying my hands flat on the ground, I begged the blessing for help, offering myself to save him; whatever it might take, I would do it.
Almost at once, the water running down my face stopped; then, as my skin scorched with magic, the droplets began to run backwards.
The rain outside defied gravity, rushing towards me instead of falling straight down to earth.
Rivulets turned into rivers, flowing up my arms and legs, winding their way around my body, a conduit for its fresh, healing energy.
I placed my hands over Jackson’s stomach, covering the five clean gashes from the wolf’s claws, the fire within me, the rain without.
Warmth and water brought life. A pulse rose up through the floor and I closed my eyes to steady myself, saw Jackson’s flesh knitting itself back together, believed he would be healed.
Knowing what I could do was half the battle.
A pained gargling sound emitted from his throat and I opened my eyes to see his eyes roll back in his head.
‘Hold on,’ I begged, watching the hard muscles of his stomach repair themselves, his soft, unblemished skin coming back together. ‘One more minute and we’re out of here.’
A sharp inhale filled his lungs with fresh air and he jerked upright.
I collapsed back on my heels as he pressed his palms to the five tiny silver lines that marred his torso.
He was alive. He was scarred but he was here.
With a silent thank you, I let go of my magic and slumped backwards, exhausted.
‘We need to leave,’ I said, staring up at the ceiling. ‘Can you walk?’
‘Can you?’ Jackson climbed to his feet and reached out two hands to pull me up as though he hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch.