Chapter 13 #2
“Fuck!” she screamed and sank to her knees, clutching at her chest. It was ripping—her heart was tearing itself apart. This wasn’t the same sensation her magics gave her, either of them; this was rupturing flesh and muscle and blistering torture.
“Sera!” Alistair was running full speed toward her.
“You?” the stranger asked. His eyes glowed a shade brighter, and he held out his gloved hand toward her. “Come with me.”
The darkness thrashed. Her palms were on fire, and although she tried to stop it, tried to ignore that pulling sensation, Sera extended her hand.
Closer, the thing within her chanted.
No!
Alistair materialized between them, sword in one hand, shield in the other. He was no longer glamoured, instead in full coven armor.
“Na prelaz blizt, demon.” Alistair snarled.
“Are the syllables of my own language supposed to scare me?”
Sera shivered at his smoky utterance, and that ripping in her chest stitched back together—all but one thread, open and raw.
Al threw an iridescent ball of power at the demon, followed by a charge of swinging steel. The stranger ducked the flaming projectile.
“You are making a grave mistake,” the demon snarled, his horse prancing and snorting.
“I think not.”
Sera’s hands were deeply rooted in the clay; she was still and gasping for breath. Between the pain in her chest and the fight before her, she was boiling. She should run as fast as she could away from there. Alistair could travel. He’d find her. She needed to run.
With grace, Alistair charged, the sword an extension of himself. But he was met with a blade of gleaming black stone. Alistair grunted, and the demon laughed as the pinging of steel on stone echoed through the wood.
Sera stumbled to her feet. Her blue barrier winked out.
For a moment, the demon’s head turned toward her, his red eyes blazing, his mouth in a snarl. Her flesh crawled under his gaze.
Alistair locked eyes with her and took advantage of the distraction to swing his sword for the horse’s throat. Before the blade met flesh, a force unlike she’d ever seen sent him flying backward.
“Al!” Sera froze.
A sickening crunch sounded as Alistair hit the tree, then fell limp to the forest floor.
“Te sie moj, Subdina.” The demon’s eyes blazed red, and he aimed his horse toward Al. “He will die…”
Show him. That voice, her magic, it was right there. Boiling heat seared through her arteries straight to her palms. “Don’t!” she cried.
A whip of dark mist materialized, and in one snap of her arm, she struck. Her magic sang through the air in the form of a whip, and the tip of that conjured scourge sliced into the demon’s hood.
A screaming whinny pierced her ears when the demon raised his gauntlet and touched his cheek. The silver steel came away coated with fresh black blood.
“Neve, Ponic,” the demon hissed, and the horse galloped toward Crowpass.
“Fucking moons.” Sera ran to Alistair, the scourge disintegrating into mist.
She collapsed beside him.
Al’s eyes were closed, his neck bent back, revealing the bob of his throat before he let out a groan. Her hands hovered over the Solarni sun embroidered across his broad chest, unsure of what to even do. “Alistair, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
A grimace, then a deep breath, had him squinting his eyes at her. “Did he say anything to you?” Alistair’s voice was grating compared to the lure of the demon’s, but she’d never been so damn happy to hear it. “Sera?”
“You’re worried about what he said to me? You’re fucking bleeding, Al!”
Al rolled on his side and raised a hand to his head, and a shining light raced over him. He let out a sigh of relief. “I need to know what he said so I know if he enthralled you.”
One, two, three beats of her heart, and she glanced toward Crowpass.
Sera rubbed at her chest. The demon’s outstretched hand…
his blazing red eyes. It was entirely possible.
And enthralling—the blood drained from her face—meant to be forced into obedience, to be watched and instructed to tell every secret she ever held.
Had he enthralled her? Would she even know if he did?
“He—he asked if I needed a ride into town and if I was lost,” she said.
Al rose to his feet. “Look at me.”
His gloved hands were warm on her cheeks, keeping her head still.
Her only view was the blue outline and yellow center of his eyes, his brow damp with sweat.
A few strands of dark hair clung to his temples.
Shadow, he was handsome. Sera’s heart pounded in her chest, and she was pretty sure he could feel her pulse through her cheeks.
His hold grew softer, and his gaze dipped to her nose, then her lips.
“You’re fine,” he said and let go. “But Sera, you need to tell me… What made him run?”
His question was a punch to the gut. There was no time to process the fact that not only had Sera been able to conjure her darkness without burning down the forest around them… she had conjured a weapon from the abomination. A whip that had drawn the black blood of a demon lord.
Fear slithered up the column of her spine.
Never in her life had Sera been able to do more than create a barrier around her until this well opened. Then there had only been destruction. But if she could manipulate it… it would change everything.
Only… Alistair couldn’t know.
He was a captain in the Legion who reported directly to the highest chair on the Council, and despite their history, this wasn’t something she would be willing to share as a test of loyalty. “I don’t know… You hit the tree, and he just took off.”
Al was quiet, his face a cool stone. “Let’s get going.”
“And what if he follows us?”
“Then he follows us, Minnow.” He sighed and pushed his hair back. “I’ll figure that out when it happens.”
“I think we should have a plan—”
“My plans don’t normally involve looking after a witchling, but here we are.” Al picked up his sword and shield and sent them into some pocket in the universe he had access to.
Silence. It was all she could give him because now she knew what her presence meant to him. A fucking burden.
Sera collected her boots and bloodied socks. The leaves crunched under her as she sat to put them on. Stubborn. Such a stubborn warlock. She hadn’t wanted to go on this mission, to find doorways and an oracle. All she wanted to do was save her sister.
“Here.” Alistair knelt beside her.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Give me your foot, Minnow. I’ll heal them for you.”
If she were a stronger witch, a more spiteful one, maybe she’d refuse just to piss him off further. But the truth was, her feet were killing her, and the longer they sat on the side of the road, the greater the chance the demon would be back.
Sera lifted her leg, and Alistair tenderly held her heel in his gloved hand.
A burst of white magic coated her sole and oozing skin.
Cooling and calm, his magic was like dipping her scorching toes into an ice-cold stream.
Sera bit her lip to keep from groaning as the layers of her skin knit back together.
His jaw ticked, and he grabbed the other foot.
So much magic. Such a wide variety of uses as well.
Most coven members had occupations and worked within their designated roles.
Mastrias focused on developing their mind reading abilities; healers concentrated on healing.
But Alistair… he could travel. He could heal, glamour, and summon objects. She’d never met anyone this diverse.
When her foot no longer burned, he dropped it into the clay dust. “Put on two pairs of socks. It prevents blisters,” he said, and grabbed his pack. “There’s a transport to Ironoak, but it doesn’t leave for two weeks. We’re walking.”
“Wonderful,” she said and hoisted her pack onto her shoulder.
As Sera crossed the road, she couldn’t help but glance toward Crowpass. She could have sworn she saw the demon astride his horse, watching her. But she blinked, and the vision was gone.