By the time he reached his side, Oliver looked worse. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of Felipe’s footfalls, but his side looked swollen beneath his waistcoat and his breathing came in shaky spurts. Felipe reached for Oliver at the end of the tether, but it felt as if he was falling. Oliver’s life was trailing away with every frantic heartbeat. Kneeling beside him, Felipe touched Oliver’s clammy cheek and took his hand. Another jolt passed from the foundation to the roof.
“We have to go, Oliver.”
“I know,” he whispered, grey eyes half-focused and glistening. “I’m sorry, Felipe. I know you wanted to see Teresa. I’m sorry.”
No. This couldn’t be happening. Tears burned Felipe’s eyes. Why did his stupid power have to be selfish? What good was a healer who couldn’t heal? Smoothing a hand across Oliver’s face, Felipe’s gaze caught on his cheek. The cut was gone. A ragged cry broke from his lips as he closed his eyes and focused on the tether with all his strength. The unwinding slowed but set Felipe’s heart out of rhythm. He coughed and lost his hold before he could give Oliver more of his life. It wasn’t enough. The glow illuminating the cathedral and the flickering altar light faded dangerously before blinking back. They would die here in this godforsaken place, and all for that infernal heart.
The heart.
Stumbling to his feet, Felipe leapt over the open graves and ran across the dais to the reliquary. The heart looked like it had in the jar, shriveled and brown, clumped with yellow crust. Picking it up, Felipe nearly dropped it at the unexpected stickiness. The moment his palms closed around it, the organ pulsed faintly, beating of its own accord. A wave of power passed up Felipe’s arms and into his body, and the world narrowed until all he could hear was the beating heart calling to him. His hands seemed to move of their own accord as he brought the heart to his lips. Revulsion warred with need at the taste of honey and the squelch of meat.
Sickly sweet relief passed through him as he choked down the last mouthful, but no sooner had he swallowed that energy seared through his veins. Biting back a scream, Felipe sprinted back to Oliver’s side. His magic felt wrong, too much, as though it might burn him up from the inside out if it had nowhere to go. Dropping to his knees, Felipe called Oliver’s name, but he didn’t stir. He was too pale, too still. Wrapping his hand around the blade, Felipe shut his eyes and pulled. Blood gushed out, but when he clamped his hands over the wound and reached for the tether, magic poured into the breach.
Moisture burned Felipe’s eyes as the frayed, limp thread between them glowed. Vines of energy encircled each other and reconnected one by one. Their tendrils spread around Oliver’s heart like roots, cupping it in a protective embrace. Felipe wished he could see it. The magic Oliver had been so afraid of was beautiful. Closing his eyes, he kept his hands firmly over Oliver’s wound but felt for the tether and his heart beyond it. While Oliver’s heart sounded fast and fragile to Felipe’s ears, it beat on. The blood loss slowed gradually, and with it, color returned to Oliver’s lips.
Felipe jumped at a loud groan that seemed to come from the cathedral itself followed by a bang. The air around him dropped rapidly. Something was happening to the island. Felipe cursed under his breath as he shook Oliver’s shoulder and called his name. When his eyes finally opened and he met Felipe’s face with a weary smile, he threw his arms around him, burying his face in Oliver’s shoulder. He wanted to kiss him, but he couldn’t know what he had done. Not yet. Another tremor and a sickening crack pulled Felipe from Oliver’s grasp.
“We have to go. Can you stand?”
Oliver blinked and stared down at the trickling wound. “I don’t know. I think so, with help. Where’s Father Gareth?”
“Dead.”
“And the heart?”
“Dealt with. Come on, up, up. We’ve outstayed our welcome.”
Wrapping his arm around Oliver’s back, he pulled him slowly to his feet. Oliver stifled a groan, but at another rumble, this one closer to the surface, he hobbled down the aisle with Felipe urging him forward. Time and space stretched oddly around them. The cathedral seemed to grow longer before snapping back. Cracks climbed the walls as Felipe guided Oliver around holes and debris. As they reached the broken cathedral doors, the ground heaved under their feet.
“The path!” Oliver cried, stumbling toward the darkened woods.
Newman and Father Gareth must have had a boat stationed somewhere, but if they got lost or ventured into the shadows, they would end up like the bodies littering the isle. The trees whispered and chattered as Oliver and Felipe passed. When they paused a moment for Oliver to catch his breath, Felipe caught a pair of white eyes and a flash of tongue lapping at blood that had dripped from Oliver’s wound onto the dirt. He couldn’t tell what the beast was, but he didn’t need to know. Breaking into a shambling sprint, Felipe held the dock in his mind. Howling cries echoed around the trail. Just as Oliver’s breaths came in gasping pants, the trees fell away to reveal a familiar rocky outcropping.
Felipe wasn’t sure what he had expected to happen when they reached the dock, but nothing wasn’t the answer. The island trembled, and the mist beyond the island grew thin enough to see the lights on the shore. Oliver dug his nails into Felipe’s arm as he stepped back with a gasp. Shadows roiled in the trees, empty eyes and flashes of teeth and tongue grew closer. A yip and a howl broke behind them as if calling to the others.
“Get in the water,” Felipe whispered, grabbing Oliver’s hand and scrambling down the rocks.
“What about infection?”
The creatures were getting closer, their shadows coalescing into sinewy forms with taloned feet and gaping skin.
“Get on my back. Take the book, and don’t ask how I’ll manage. I just will.”
Stealing a final glance over his shoulder, Oliver wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck as he hefted his weight. With a pained huff from both of them, Felipe carried them down the last few feet to the water’s edge. Felipe stepped off the ledge of sand, water rising rapidly to his thighs. The shock of the icy water took his breath away, but he forced himself to take a step and then another until the howling died away and the mist gave way to snow. Oliver’s knees tightened around his hips as he looked back to the shore. Where there had once been a forest and a cathedral of nightmares, now there stood baseball fields and bare, scraggly oak trees.
A ragged laugh escaped Oliver’s lips. “We did it. We’re safe. Oh, Felipe, you were brilliant.” He kissed his cheek and tensed with a muffled hiss. “Now, get out of the water and put me down before you get hypothermia.”
Wading back to the shore, Felipe fell back onto the sand with Oliver tucked behind him. His legs were numb as they wrung out what they could of his clothes, but with the adrenaline and magic still humming through his veins, he didn’t care. Oliver was alive, they were safe, and nothing else mattered in that moment. The snow might be a problem, but the island was a rich man’s summer home. Surely, there would be a shed they could tuck away in for the night if necessary. Rubbing his cold hands, Felipe heard Oliver stifle a hiss beside him as he peeled back his waistcoat. While the island had fallen to near complete darkness, in the distance, a light swept across the water.
Oliver squinted and passed Felipe his gloves. “It sounds like a steamboat coming this way. Do you think we should hide or try to get their attention?”
As the boat drew closer, Felipe thought he could hear Head Inspector Williams’s gruff voice. At least they wouldn’t need to hunker down for the night. “I think the head inspector got my note. Let me steal some of your body heat while we wait.”
Oliver scooted closer until their sides touched. All thoughts of blood or death disappeared when Oliver rested his head against his shoulder, and the magic that still buzzed beneath Felipe’s skin flowed where it was needed. Calm settled over him like he hadn’t felt in years. Being still never suited him, maybe it was a change only being dead could bring or maybe it was Oliver himself, but Felipe could imagine himself justbeingwith him. Their peace was short-lived as the boat’s mirrored lantern flashed directly into their faces when it reached the makeshift dock. Felipe helped Oliver to his feet as the boat dropped anchor near the end of the jetty. Head Inspector Williams scowled at them from the railing, his brows furrowing deeper as he moved from Oliver’s bloodied clothes to Felipe’s wet trousers and bruised neck.
“Where’s Newman and the priest?”
“Dead,” Felipe replied.
