Chapter 34 #3
“Come on,” I whispered, flexing my fingers, trying to force my light into Titus’s body, but it refused to budge. “Come on. Please. Work.” My breath quickened as I drew more and pushed and pushed. I pictured Titus’s skin healing, his eyes opening, but nothing happened.
“Maeve, stop.” Fen said, reaching for my hands.
“No. I can do this.” I dodged his grasp and placed both my hands over Titus’s chest again.
“There are some things only Death can do. This is one of them.”
I shook my head, but I could feel the truth in his words. The power I was using was his. It didn’t know how to heal. I squeezed my eyes shut. Somehow that made my failure worse.
Sitting back on my heels, I let the glow fade from my hands.
“I’ll get a healer,” Marcus said, rising and rushing out the door.
I stared numbly at Titus’s body.
Fen stirred across from me, but he didn’t say anything. We sat in silence until footsteps raced down the hall outside.
“Where is he?” Daphne burst into the room.
I stood and backed away from Titus as she dropped to her knees beside him.
“Oh, Titus.” Her voice broke as she gently touched his chest.
My heart dropped. I’d never seen her cry before. I’d done that, just as I’d reduced Titus to a barely breathing husk.
It was all my fault. I thought I’d changed because I’d found a purpose, one that allowed me to atone from my past actions, but I was wrong.
All I’d done was change one set of circumstances for another.
For all the practice I’d had, I still couldn’t control my power.
The fact that I hadn’t killed Titus was a matter of luck.
If Fen hadn’t been able to help me, I’d likely have shredded Titus’s soul.
And Fen…
I gasped for breath, trying to swallow the sob that fought to get free as I watched him comfort Daphne.
My judgment when it came to men hadn’t changed at all.
I’d trusted Colt and he tried to frame me for murder.
I trusted Fen, and he’d withheld the one thing I needed to conquer Death while pretending it was all in my head.
Not to mention his apparent addiction to other people’s pain.
He’d made me believe he cared about me, that he wanted me as a partner.
I’d known better and I believed him anyway, because I wanted it so badly.
My head throbbed. Closing my eyes, I buried my fingers in my hair, pressing them to my skull, trying to ease the pressure.
Me. I was the problem. I let people hurt me, and I hurt others in return.
It had always been that way, and it always would be.
I couldn’t be the next Death. I didn’t deserve it. The realms needed better.
Marcus came back with two healers who went straight to work. Daphne dove into his arms, her body shaking with sobs. Fen stood in the corner, his eyes fixed on his friend. No one looked at me. Why would they when I was the cause of all of this?
I couldn’t be here anymore. Not in this room, and not in my body.
I couldn’t be Death’s Successor. If only I could be something other than myself.
Something small that could slip between the cracks and crawl into a hole where I couldn’t hurt anyone.
As if in answer, power trickled through me, warming me.
It felt so good, I closed my eyes, giving myself over to it until I tumbled into space.
Darkness enveloped me, and I felt weightless for a moment, all my cares and worries lifted from my shoulders. Then I hit the ground and my eyes flew open.
I was lying on the ground in a pile of fabric.
I tried to push to my feet, but I couldn’t.
Wriggling my head and torso, I managed to find a way out of the blanket that covered me.
Except everything looked wrong. It was all the wrong size; the furniture looked enormous, and the feet I could see through the gap underneath were gigantic.
Looking down at my hands, my heart jolted in my chest, because they weren’t hands anymore. They were feet, with four toes on each instead of five and webbing in between them. My skin was black, mottled with yellow, and yearned for the warmth of the nearby fire.
I’d transformed myself into a salamander.
My bond with Fen was gone, replaced by a dull ache in my chest, and I could no longer feel any power.
Shock gave way to panic and then relief.
I’d wished not to be in my body, to become small so I could hide, and I had.
Without power, I was no longer Death’s Successor.
I could leave all of this, the pain, and the guilt, and the worry behind.
The fire nearby called to me, promising warmth and safety. A place no one could follow. Giving in to my instincts, I scurried over to it and climbed the logs. The heat felt glorious on my skin, warm rather than burning. I nearly gave in to the siren song of it and splayed myself out to soak it in.
“Where’s Maeve?” Marcus’s voice brought me to my senses.
Climbing over the wood looking for an escape, I sensed an opening at the back of the flames. Without hesitation, I scurried through it, leaving the Dungeon behind.