She did nothing for a few minutes but that—just held his hand. Then she let go, took it up again and said, “I’m holdingyour left hand a second time—can you feel it?” Now she sent magic his way. A few minutes after that, she repeated the procedure, this time focusing specifically on what she wanted the magic to do—pummel the barrier that trapped him.
She did all three steps again, this time with her hands on his chest. Then his forehead, throat, back, ankle, right hand, cheek and the top of his head.
Once she ran out of places to try, she abruptly noticed how parched and tired she was. Hungry, too, but there was nothing she could do about that until tomorrow. She got herself water from the adjoining bathroom and an extra pillow from the closet, and settled back into the chair—her stomach rumbling, her corset digging into her.
If she fell asleep, it would be a small miracle.
“I’m still here,” she said to Peter. “Good night.”
CHAPTER 5
Peter walked and called for Beatrix until his dreamside legs ached and his throat went hoarse, something he’d been unaware was even possible. He finally slumped to the ground he couldn’t see, unable to continue, his thoughts jittering from one horror to the next. Did the magiocracy want to make sure he never came out of the coma, or did they intend to hasten his death? Did Project 96 kill Martinelli?Dead, his friend wasdead—and how could Beatrix counter everything the magiocracy would throw at the League without the assistance of someone legally able to cast spells?
He heard her then, calling out for him. “Here!” he bellowed back.
“Oh, Peter!” she said, the thud of her feet so quick he knew she was running to him. “Did you hear what they’vedone?The transfer to the WA?”
“Yes,” he said, getting up. “I suppose we should take it as a certainty that they know I was helping you and your sister.”
“Is there anything I can do to fight this?”
He sighed. “Nothing’s occurred to me.”
She let out a sob. But her voice trembled only a bit as she said, “What about my experiment? Could you feel any of it?”
He’d given it zero thought since arriving in dreamside, as intriguing as it had been, because it was overshadowed by everything else. But he forced himself to concentrate.
“What was the difference between the first time you held my hand, the second time and the third time?” he asked.
“Answer my question, then I’ll tell you. I don’t want to influence your impressions.”
Spoken like a true scientist. “In some cases I thought I could feel the first time, faintly, but mostly I couldn’t. I always felt the second time, at least by the end of it.”
“And the third time?” A great deal of emotion seemed packed into that question.
“Basically the same as the second time?—”
“Damnit!”
“—except when you touched my head.”
She sucked in a breath. He rushed on: “I don’t know how to explain it. Pressure, I suppose—like being pressed at from all sides. Just shy of painful.”
“Forehead, cheek, scalp—which one?”
“All of them, but more for the forehead than the rest.”
“OK. OK,” she said, though whether she was excited or upset, he couldn’t tell. “The first time, I was just laying myhand on you. The second time, I was trying to send you … raw magic, basically. That’s what I’ve been doing every time I visit, trying to give you magic. If the weapon steals life force, and if life force is somehow connected to magical potential, then perhaps what we draw on when we cast spells is something that could be shared. I thought that might be the way to wake you.”
His mind raced.
“I know it’s a ridiculous number of ifs,” she murmured. “And probably hokum to boot.”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I would have said there was no such thing as ‘raw magic,’ only magical fuel and those who can wield it, but that was before I saw the difference between an explosion powered with a pig and one powered with a man. And before I saw you cast magic with no visible fuel at all.” He paused. “What were you doing the third time?”
“Trying to attack this horrible barrier.”
He looked at the darkness around him and swallowed, throat raw.
