I drew a slow breath and held tight to what little I knew, thin scraps of certainty, before collapsing next to Brit and breaking. Just hours ago, I’d been twirling under glowing lights, drunk on laughter and kisses. Now, I was trapped, dirty, and powerless. It wasn’t a fall; it was a free fall back into the nightmare I’d barely escaped.
It took me an embarrassing amount of time to finally pull myself together. I shoved my despair and fear deep down until I could breathe without screaming. I had friends looking for me right now. I couldn’t give up. I was better than that.
I trickled water past her lips, praying her throat remembered how to swallow, and stuck my fingers on her neck and my own, comparing the two. Hers was a little slower, but they both felt strong and steady.
A small victory, but mine.
Baby steps. I couldn’t lose hope.
Brit still lay awkwardly exactly where Matt dumped her. I couldn’t lift her, but I did what I could to make her more comfortable. Bruising bloomed on her side, which matched my own, but other than the little hole from the dart in her neck, she looked okay.
I leaned against the wall and let my head thump back. I’d lost so much I didn’t know how to mourn more. My hand came to rest on the collar, which wasn’t cold. I jerked in surprise before feeling it all over. No burning or ice remained from when it first clicked into place. The lingering chill I vividly remembered from my time in the body snatchers’ cellar didn’t grip me. I traced my fingers across the smooth metal, wiggling them under the scant space between it and my skin. The collar was the same temperature as I was.
I tried to create the band I’d bolted myself down with on The Mile. Nothing happened.
I froze. What if Horax took my belly button ring?
Please don’t let trauma come for my jewelry too.
Terrified to find it missing, I slowly pushed against my stomach. The teardrop stabbed into my navel. A loose strand glittered, mocking my fear.
I let out a panicked noise that could have been a chuckle or a terrified scream and scrubbed my face. If I could get rid of this collar, I could blow this entire place up. I might be struggling with control, but losing it wasn’t a problem.
I paused. My magic was still trapped in a loop, cut off from the world. Moreover, my Majekah had failed to break the collar. Except it did something. Otherwise, it would still be cold.
“Right, Brit?” I asked.
Brit’s unconscious body didn’t answer me. I looked at the dart hole again. What if Brit had something keeping her asleep—like what Brody had done to me? If I touched her with my Majekah, would that cleanse it out?
My gaze dropped to her knees before studying the scarring on her face. Magic fixed everything here. And she was young, just a few years older than me.
My memory of the park ranger’s destroyed knees hit me. I swallowed. What were the chances she had anything unnatural in her body?
Before I lost my nerve, I set my hands on Brit’s chest and called on my Majekah.
An unexpected tug, like a small dog at the end of a leash, made me move my hands from her chest to her abdomen before my lower spine tingled with coolness, and my Majekah sank into everything that was Brit.
Her dirty, blood-spattered dress disintegrated into a million fibers. Ink dripped out of a lower back tattoo I didn’t know she had. A soft cry, so vulnerable and opposite from Brit’s battle roar, brought tears to my eyes. Oily black fluid, gritty with ash and burned herbs, bled from her ears, eyes, and nose.
Brit sat up, almost crunching her face into mine, and I fell backward in disbelief. It worked. For the first time since the collar, I’d made something good happen. I started shaking. I wasn’t alone. The relief was so heavy it hurt, and I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around my friend.
“Oie,” Brit said weakly.
I laughed and sobbed at the same time. Despite not liking sympathy or hugs, she wrapped a single arm around me as well.
“Quinn, babes, there is a god-awful taste in my mouth and hugg’n ain’t getting us out of here,” Brit said.
I released her and scampered off to retrieve everything I thought could help her.
She gargled and spat out the water. “Location?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
She rubbed the oil on her face before touching the scabbed dart hole. “Ugh, what’s this shit? Skittle?”
“I don’t know what Skittle is, but once that oozed out of you, you woke up.”
Brit furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t remember being knifed. My back’s bleeding?” Brit touched her bare back. “I’m naked?”
