Chapter 11 #2
I’d never felt anything like it before. When I practiced spellcraft with Laurel and Shannon, magic flowed between us. Because some of the magic had started in me, it always felt like my own, just flavored with Laurel or Shannon’s signature.
This was entirely different. Nick’s magic overwhelmed me.
It flowed into me, filling every part of myself with him.
I noticed him in a way that felt more intimate and close.
This wasn’t just a flavor of him, like the scent of familiar cologne in an empty room.
This was all of him, every feeling he had, every aspect of his personality.
“Whoa,” I breathed. I closed my eyes and let myself taste the magic in me.
I could tell how much pressure he put on himself, how much work it took every day to live up to his own expectations. Underneath, I could tell he had a moral compass that would definitely give me headaches, as my own was more flexible.
“They did some internal damage.” Nick’s voice went straight into my mind. “Don’t move.”
His magic traced through my veins and organs with the same speed it had made its way through his circles. I could feel the spellwork fixing as it streamed into me, a warm river of healing. It reached the bruises on my chest and the agony dissolved, the skin fading back to a more normal appearance.
My fingers took longer. It felt like my hand was submerged in a warm bath, and even as I heard crackling and noises that made me want to clench my teeth, none of the pain reached me.
Curious, I tried to reach out to him with my magic, but it bounced back.
Even though he was working in me, he’d drawn a tight boundary around my magic, keeping it separate from his own.
“You alchemists really don’t like mixing magic,” I noted. I tried to look at him without moving, but his head ducked as he focused on a part of the circle, murmuring in Latin.
When he looked up, I saw a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the hunter green in his eyes was flickering with hazel, creating the impression of a muddy olive green. With a huff, he clenched his eyes closed, opening them with a flash of pure green.
“Almost done,” he said.
Slowly, his magic receded like the tide revealing a naked beach.
As he pulled back, I could feel him being careful, untangling the spell when it stuck to different parts of my body, the ribs that had been apparently cracked by one of the hits or kicks, the skin tender from being healed.
It would have been easier to just pull it all out, and leave behind some minimal damage, but he was leaving no damage behind, which took a tremendous amount of care.
“Done,” he said, leaning back on his heels. He stayed crouched next to the circle, panting from the exertion. His ragged breath slowed through effort.
“Wow.” I sat up and stretched my neck. I hadn’t even noticed the knots and tension residing in my shoulders until they were gone. “That was intense.”
“What did you expect?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Me to just slap a magical bandage on you and call it a day? It’d be too much paperwork if you died on your couch and they found out I’d just left you there.”
I laughed. “I bet you love paperwork. I bet you take your paperwork to bed with you and look forward to all-day seminars on new forms the department makes you fill out.”
He shook his head. “You need help getting up?”
The circles he’d drawn had shriveled up, and when I brushed at the edge of one with my thumb, it smeared like soot. He leaned back and sat cross-legged next to me, his eyes tracing over my body, as though looking for any imperfection he’d left behind. I reached out and covered his hand with mine.
“Thanks,” I said. “I could have handled it, but this was a lot better. Maybe I should call the cops more often.”
He didn’t say anything, and he hadn’t moved his hand. In fact, when I focused, I saw he trembled a bit, his muscles spasming under his tight shirt.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wrapping my hand around his still one and turning it over.
I could see faint dark marks on his fingertips, as though he’d burned them in a fire. He closed his hand into a fist, but I pulled it to me, rubbing his exposed forearm.
“That was a lot of magic you used.”
“It was more damage than I was expecting,” he said. “They were really trying to kill you. You’re an idiot.”
The words made me roll my eyes. “Says the guy who used up every one of his reserves healing me.”
He huffed. “Healing’s precision work. I just didn’t expect it to be that much! You should take care of yourself better. I think the only reason your spine is straight is all the knots in your back are keeping you upright!”
I felt amusement widen my grin. “Well, how about this. You can come give me a massage when I get too tight. In the meantime, you’re going to sit on the couch and I’m going to order pizza and take a shower.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but accepted my hand when I stood and held it out to him. We were close again, and I was no longer injured or in pain. My body was, in fact, feeling ready to reenact some of my nighttime fantasies.
Clearing my throat, I stepped back. “Sit down. I’ll be back.”
A few taps on my phone later and I’d ordered pizza. By the time I’d showered and was back in the living room, I expected he’d be relaxing, exhausted, on the couch.
Instead, he stood in front of my refrigerator glaring at the contents. “This is not how people live, Parker. What do you even eat? Ketchup?”
The contents were a little bare, but I felt myself getting defensive anyway. “Hey, I didn’t ask for you to go poking around my stuff.”
I stepped into his space and shut the fridge. He held up a Coke he’d stolen and cracked it open. “This was the only drinkable thing in your fridge.”
“I have milk!”
“That’s two weeks past its expiration date.” He pointed to the half full carton of milk next to a bag of slimy, brown broccoli.
“It’s still drinkable,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
He shook his head, but I caught a slight twist to his mouth before he forced it down.
“Now that you’re not dying, you’re going to tell me what happened and how badly you screwed up my case,” he said.