Chapter 9 - Rissa #2
The thought alone has my breath escaping me slowly, my heart sinking to the soles of my feet.
A gaping hole grows in my chest where hatred for the alpha should be, but within it curls the claws of my inner witchiness, the power growing until it lifts me to my feet and explodes out of my palms without warning.
I aim at the demon, throwing pulses of flickering green light at the creature, my vision becoming measured and as sharp as an X-ray that allows me to see through the spirit.
Its nether body snaps into its physical one, and it becomes a black figure shaped like a shaggy dog that turns to me and screeches.
Continuing my thrusts of magic, I suddenly feel consumed by the power that strengthens my resolve and leads my feet forward.
No longer afraid of the malevolent spirit, my determination is fiery and otherworldly as I flick bolts of green pulses at the creature.
Those bolts flash out like magically crafted, sharp spears that penetrate its black spirit and damage the flesh of the black dog.
A spark flies through its leg, weakening it and sending it shuddering to the ground.
It kicks its hind legs to stand upright again, the black pits of its ominous eyes becoming frightened when a wrinkle folds between its eyes.
As I continue my attacks, the demon whimpers in fear, terrified of me, until it backs away.
It finds a tree to hide behind, but I persist with my magic, and the tree implodes, swallowed by the gaping mouth of a green fire that erupts.
The demon wastes no more time, spinning on its hind leg and running off into the darkening forest as night begins to fall. I reel my magic back in, feeling it gather into my palms before slipping into the confines of my chest.
As the intense energy knocks into the core of my heart, the impact strikes me to my knees. My breath comes in hot pants, but I’ve never felt more alive, more purposeful, or more fulfilled.
Wielding so much power has me feeling liberated and invincible, even if I don’t know how to fully control it yet.
But at the same time, it’s overwhelming, and as the energy subsides and leaves my fingers tingling with the aftermath of pushing magic through my hands, fear rears its head again, and flight senses kick in.
This can’t be my destiny. It’s too powerful, the responsibility too much to bear for an omega like me.
As fear and my insecurities creep back in, I lift my eyes to the spot where Alpha Brooks lies, just as a drawn-out sigh escapes his wolf mouth.
His tongue hangs out from one corner, dry and lifeless, his fur retracting and leaving him in a weak pile of his human form and blood in frightening bright patches on his clothes.
The only indication that he’s still alive is the irregular way his chest rises and falls.
My heart races as I come to the realization that this is my chance to escape and never see Girdwood again.
But as I get to my feet, using the wooden pole on the bridge as leverage, I’m about to turn the other way when something inside me stops me from tearing my eyes off the alpha.
It must be the compassion I’ve been able to maintain for every other member of the Snehvolk Pack, and it awakens now as I stagger forward, my fear subsiding the closer I get to Alpha Brooks.
The demon might have stalked us and caught us unaware, but I’d witnessed the fear in its black eyes when I used my magic against it, and I’m sure it won’t come back anytime soon.
That’s probably why I have the courage to go forward, a wave of sadness washing over me when I notice the extent of Alpha Brooks’s condition.
I instantly fall to my knees in front of him, a tentative hand reaching out to his face to confirm if he’s still breathing. When I feel warm air leaving his nostrils, I breathe a sigh of relief, but as I scan the rest of him with one glance, I notice how bad his injuries are.
Something in me shifts, and I forget all about wanting to run away or hanging onto my hatred for the Alpha, and I’m compelled to save his life. Acting purely on instinct, I find the strength to grab Brooks by his forearms and drag him over the bridge.
“Just a little further…” I say to myself in encouragement as I pull him across, then into the woods and through the forest, crossing over into Snehvolk territory on the south perimeter of Girdwood. We’re still far from the main area, but we’re close to being considered safe in the evening.
When we’re behind a tree, I release Brooks’s limp arms and quickly dash about in search of the things I need to nurse his ghastly wounds.
I find a salmon berry bush and yarrow growing behind it, both known for their wound healing and anti-inflammatory properties, gathering the plants and going back to Brooks.
I tear his clothes from his body, where they stick to him like a second skin because of the bleeding, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.
Using my palms to crush both the berries and the flowers to extract their healing properties, it takes me by surprise when my palms light up with a soft shade of green, my magic energy flowing into the plants, infusing the natural remedy I was crushing to heal Brooks’s wounds.
Though I’m not consciously aware of what I’m doing, all I know is that it feels right when I press my moistened palms to his injuries, magic seeping through in vortexes of green that seem to mend his skin and stitch it miraculously.
But as the magic extends from my hands, I feel my own energy draining, my eyelids growing heavier, and my body becoming frail and uncontrollably weak.
“Oh, no…” I murmur, my lips becoming numb.
I must have drained myself, because it isn’t long before my head falls to the ground, my vision cloudy as I come face to face with Brooks.
Drowsy now, I can barely reach out when I try, on impulse, to touch his shoulder. My hand falls on his arm instead, but darkness threatens to consume me.
“Brooks…” I murmur before everything goes black.