I stammer my way through an explanation of Harry bursting into my room, the words he said and the way he dragged me out of the house. I even add in about him chaining me because he was worried about political repercussions. That won’t endear him to them, but it might help them put together the puzzle pieces that I cannot begin to fathom.
Hathbury turns to Garrington. “Sounds like Sothbridge is turning against The Circle.”
Eban looks as confused as I am. A vague memory teases at me. I think The Circle are an old and powerful Revivalist cult. It doesn’t suddenly explain why my life is in danger.
“They probably thought Colby was an agent,” Garrington says to Hathbury.
Hathbury pales. “I suppose our abduction of Sothbridge does look rather sinister.”
Will somebody please start saying words that make sense? Please? Or better still, can we please go back to Stourleat and make sure Harry is okay?
In the end I think they agree to go out of curiosity more than anything. Hathbury whips out his phone saying something about back up. Garrington opens up a portal. Eban stands behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. I’m supposed to stay here, in safety. But I can’t do that. Even though it is what Harry wants for me. I can’t abandon him, I can’t.
I wait until the two mages have stepped through and then just before the portal closes, I twist out of Eban’s grip and dive through it. I land on my face in the woods. As I had hoped for, the slight time lag present in most portals means that Hathbury and Garrington are nowhere in sight. They can’t stop me or send me back if they don’t know I’m here.
It takes me a few moments to get my bearings and then I’m off. Stumbling through the woods, towards the house. I can only pray that Hathbury and Garrington will keep whatever trouble there is at bay, or at least distracted, so I can slip in.
As I approach the house, everything seems eerily quiet and still. Just a late afternoon in early spring. Soft, muted sunlight and no signs of life. I swallow over my tight throat and creep in. Even though I’m quite sure my heart is beating loud enough to herald my presence.
Is everyone dead? No! I can’t let myself think that. I have to stay calm and rational. Even though being here isn’t rational at all. I’m just a vessel, what can I do? But I have to try. I have to. I got help, I’ve been sensible. Now it is time to follow my heart.
My feet take me to Harry’s study. The door is open. It’s never open. I tiptoe in. Harry is sprawled on his back on the floor. I clamp my hand over my mouth to contain my scream. I’m by his side in an instant. His pulse is weak and reedy, but it is there, and I’ve never felt anything more beautiful. His breaths are far too shallow. His life force a faint, flickering thing. He has been utterly drained of magic. Almost to the point of death.
A soft whimper escapes me. There is no healing that can fix this. He needs magic and he needs it now. I have plenty, even though I was emptied not that long ago. I just don’t have a way of giving it to him. It’s not like he can fuck me while he is unconscious.
A blast of magic rocks the house. There is a fight going on somewhere. If any enemies come across Harry like this, he is done for. I wanted to help and here I am, I bloody well need to do something.
His too-pale, too-slack face makes my heart clench. Seeing him like this is far beyond awful. I can’t stand it. I need to see his aquamarine eyes, his naughty, sardonic grin. I need to see him full of life and filling the room with his presence. He can’t fucking die in my arms. I won’t allow it.
I put my hands on the center of his chest, as if I’m about to do CPR. I can feel his essence. It’s so familiar to me, so intimate. His essence has been wrapped around my own whilst our bodies have been joined. I’ve felt my magic flow into him. Leaving me gladly, for someone who can actually wield it.
My magic stirs, it recognizes the feel of Harry. “Go on,” I encourage it as I imagine my magic pouring out of me, down my arms and into him. A more intense version of healing someone. I’ve coaxed tendrils of magic into other people before, and guided it to knitting bones and so on. Surely this isn’t so different?
But nothing is happening. In frustration, I lean down and press my lips against his. The familiar taste of him connects something within me and suddenly it is like a bridge is formed between us. My magic sees its chance for freedom and it flows. Like water over a broken dam. It rushes out of me, and into him. Fueling his flickering life force into a bright, steady flame.
Oh my god, it is working, it is actually working. I am doing it! Giddying excitement threatens to loosen my concentration, so I grimly set that emotion aside.
I’m so deep in what I am doing, that I don’t see or hear someone enter the study, I sense it. It’s somebody whose magic is a cacophony of different colors. This person has drunk from many different vessels, and often. There is a strand that feels like Jem and my stomach heaves.
I open my eyes. It’s Lord Greyfield. Pasty Lord Greyfield who looks like a snake and who stole Harry away for business at the ball.
Is he a friend or a foe?
I don’t know.
His cold eyes give nothing away. He strides towards me, yanks me away from Harry and wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes tightly.
Well, that answers that question, I think as I wheeze. I try to fight him off but he uses magic to keep me still. Coward. He clearly deems using magic to kill me outright is a waste, but he is not above using some to make this easy for him.
I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to die at all, but certainly not like this. Maybe Harry will wake up and save me? No, I know he is still far too gone for that. I need to save myself.
But how?
His multicolored magic brushes against me, keeping me still but also connecting us. The strand that once was Jem’s pulses. It has a familiar feel to Harry’s magic. A familial connection, I guess. It seems to recognize me too.
I literally have nothing to lose, so it’s worth a go. I call it to me. I’m a vessel, I naturally absorb magic from my surroundings. I’ve never tried absorbing it from a person before. I don’t think anyone has tried this. But surely it is not that different?
Concentrate, I need to concentrate.
