Chapter 23
Hair whips my face. Air whistles in my ears.
I don’t have time to scream, let alone maneuver my body into a better position. I’m too far from the building. I’m going to hit the ground. At this angle, my head will strike first, and it will be a miracle if I don’t snap my neck.
Panic sets in just before a force collides with my shredded back. I gasp from the agony rippling over the torn flesh. Then—I blink up at the starry night sky.
I’ve…stopped. Midair.
What in Velmira?
I turn my neck and gasp. Dark, swirling shadows hold me suspended, as soft as a feathered mattress after a long day spent on my feet.
The dark cloud begins to drop, lowering me to the ground. I exhale and stare at the smoke-filled sky. The fire continues to roar, swallowing every last wooden board that makes up the home.
My eyelids droop, dizzy from blood loss and exertion. But they fly open when strong arms band around my back, taking my weight from the cozy shadows.
“AH!”
I buck upright, but the grip holds tight. A brush of coolness slithers between my back and the arms holding me, cushioning the worst of the pain from the monster’s slices.
The monster!
I snap my head to the window. Flames blaze out of the opening. Surely it couldn’t survive the inferno.
Right?
“Jax,” Rian barks, drawing me closer.
I rest my palm on his muscular chest in a weak attempt to keep some distance between us.
Jaxon appears. Tight eyes trail over me before they lock on the Fae holding me. “What do you need?”
“Get the creature.”
“On it.” Shadows curl from Jaxon’s extended forearms and float up, then dive through the open window.
A screech followed by a wail precedes the home’s wall exploding as Jaxon’s shadows yank the monster through the too-small window. His shadows become solid, immovable bands as they wrap around the beast's charred blue skin.
How is it still alive?
The monster’s sharp teeth snap, and drool flies as it whips its head. Rian turns me before the disgusting fluid lands on me. The Fae winces. The fabric on his shoulder steams where the drool landed before shadows coalesce on the spot and clear away the scalding liquid.
My fuzzy head spins.
What in the Gods’ names is that thing?
“A natchling," Rian answers.
I must’ve spoken out loud.
Silver churns in his gaze, and unease claws up my chest.
My voice scrapes out, low and wary. “What in the hells is a natchling?”
“A monster born of nightmares.” His voice is a razor-edged murmur as his eyes drag over my face, then lower. “They creep into villages disguised as children to lure in unsuspecting prey before they devour their souls.”
They what?
A shudder runs through me. Rian’s grip tightens.
“Take it to the forest,” he tells Jaxon. “You know what to do.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Jaxon salutes with a wry smile.
Then he and his shadows drag the beast into the dark woods.
I watch them go, my head spinning with questions. “Are natchlings intelligent?”
“Why do you ask?”
I tear my gaze from the ominous forest and swallow. “Because I think the monster chose to lure me in.”
Saying it out loud, I’m certain I’m right. There were dozens of people around, trying to douse the flames. Yet I’m the only one who heard the creature’s call for help. I can’t shake the idea that it was intentional.
“The beast likely scented your magic,” he says, voice edged with something that makes the back of my neck prickle.
“And what? Magic makes me a tastier snack?”
A flash of silver cuts through his gaze. “And more…nourishing, for lack of a better word.”
My stomach lurches.
I was almost monster chow. Even if that beast hadn’t killed me, the flames would’ve finished the job. I was almost wiped from existence, and no one would have known.
“Hey.” Rian’s breath brushes the top of my head. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”
I’m anything but.
“Put me down.”
The world tilts as he sets me on my feet, only for his hands to clamp onto my arms when my knees buckle.
Warm liquid trails down my back.
His head jerks, his nostrils flaring. Then he releases a guttural growl. “You’re bleeding.”
“Very observant,” I mutter, blinking hard against the haze pressing in at the edges of my vision.
His grip tightens. “Why are you bleeding? Use your magic.”
His words are clipped, demanding. Almost…angry?
“I can’t.” My legs fold, but he yanks me against his side before I hit the ground.
His eyes flash like molten silver. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
The sharpness in his tone makes me flinch.
Yeah... He’s definitely angry.
“I drained it on that…hatchling thing.” My tongue feels thick.
His face blurs at the edges. I shake my head, trying to clear it.
“Natchling,” he snaps, his frown deepening. “Did you touch it?”
Did I?
I…can’t remember.
“I don’t know.” My legs buckle completely, but I don’t hit the ground.
Rian bears all my weight, his dark magic cushioning the press of his arms against my wounds like a second skin.
His free hand skims down my arm. The markings there writhe in answer, and a faint flicker stirs in my chest.
He grunts. “Your magic is responsive,” he says. “Use it. Mend your back.”
“I can’t.” My head lolls against the solid muscle of his arm, too tired to be anything more than faintly mortified by my weakness. “Did you set the fire?”
My vision swims, my thoughts smothered in haze—that’s the only excuse I have for why I’d dare throw such a loaded accusation at a Fae. Especially when I can’t even stand, let alone defend myself.
Not that I could defend myself against Fae. But I can’t even try in this state.
“Why the fuck would you think I set that fire?”
My head tips back, dizzy, until his hand catches the back of my neck, steadying me.
His silver eyes flash as he leans closer, bright and unyielding. “Explain, Elara. Before I lose it.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that he already is losing it, but I bite the words back. I lick my cracked lips.
“Water couldn’t put out the fire,” I slur. “It seemed like…magic.”
He rumbles a growl, though it’s not directed at me this time. His gaze cuts back to the inferno, thoughts flickering fast behind the moon-bright silver of his eyes. When they swing back to me, their beauty knocks the air from my lungs.
“Heal yourself,” he orders.
Shadows rise behind his shoulders like furious sentries.
Exhausted, I close my eyes and murmur once again, “I can’t.”
“You can.” He dips closer, so close his breath ghosts my lips.
Heat flows into my blood. My eyes fly open.
He continues, “I know your power, Elara Stonebloom. You’re only limited by your mind. If you don’t want to bleed out on this filthy ground, you will seal those cuts. Now.”
Irritation flickers.
No, not irritation. Power.
It’s returned to me.
I don’t question why.
Please… My eyes shutter closed, and I picture my power as a skittish kitten, tucked in a dark corner, scared to come into the light. I’m sorry I hurt you earlier... I won’t do it again.
The magic blinks—stretches. Creeps forward.
Thank you for protecting me…
Sweat rolls down the back of my neck, mixing with the blood seeping from my wounds. Dizziness hits me once more, but Rian’s arm around me is steady. Patient. He won’t let me fall.
I breathe through the pain and confusion and continue to coax the magic to the surface. I promise you can rest after this. I won’t ask any more of you tonight.
A stuttered sensation emanates from my chest. Tingles from Rian’s touch spread through my body. The marks along my forearms slither. Then it’s as if my power releases a heavy, relaxed sigh before it surges.
I suck in a sharp breath as warmth flows from my chest to my back where the beast’s claws gouged my flesh.
Rian’s shadows reluctantly draw away, and I grimace at the first lick of heat as power threads into the wounds.
I clamp my teeth together. Healing magic sears through the torn flesh, bursting at the surface. Sharp tugs and stings claw along my skin as my body stitches back together.
“What in The Mother…” Draven’s voice is hushed, rough with disbelief.
My eyes snap open.
The formidable Fae’s mask has cracked. The glow of my magic splashes across his face as he stares at my back, throwing his awe into stark relief. For once, his hard, immovable features falter.
“You never said that—”
“Not now,” Rian cuts in with a harsh snap.
His grip cinches around me.
Draven’s jaw locks, but his stare doesn’t waver. He looks at me as though he’s never seen me before.
My light sputters.
Did Rian not tell Draven about my power?
No…that doesn’t make sense.
Jaxon was at the forge. He saw my power. Surely both males wouldn’t keep the information from the third member of their trio.
Is he just surprised by the extent of my power? Of its capability?
“Keep going, Elara,” Rian orders, low and unyielding, interrupting my muddled thoughts. “Heal yourself.”
My gaze flicks between the two Fae, searching for answers I won’t find, but then my magic surges, demanding my focus. I squeeze my eyes shut and force my breathing to steady.
Light flares behind my eyelids, hot and pure. The stinging dulls, ebbing with each pull of power.
Smoke empties from my lungs in a ragged cough, and then, for the first time since the fire, a clean breath fills me. Relief shudders through my chest.
When I open my eyes, silver ones are waiting.
Rian’s exhale is soft. “Better?”
My nod is small, my voice frayed. “Better.”
I glance at the arm still banded around me. Rian’s fingers flex, but he doesn’t let go.
A sharp crack splits the night. I whip my head up, heart lurching as the roof of the home gives way, sending sparks flying into the air.
I scan the street and balk when I find it empty. No one is here to help douse the flames, but there’s only ten feet between this blaze and the next building.
I bite my lip and look at Rian. “You didn’t start the fire, but can you extinguish it?”
The silver in his eyes is gone, replaced with his usual dark smoke. He studies me in silence, expression unreadable, before his gaze flicks toward Draven.
The surly Fae grunts then lifts his arms.