“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”
“This went so poorly. I couldn’t do anything,” I whisper.
“You… whatever you did with that magic drove him back, Riley. That man might not have left if it weren’t for you,” she says. “Your magic weakened him… whatever it was.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Please, get a healer over here.” I know I’m being selfish—there are hundreds of people here who need healers, and the healers are going to exhaust themselves before they even get close to helping everyone—but Ineedthem to help Torin.
Imani nods and hurries off to find someone. She returns with a fae woman who kneels down and holds her hands over Torin. A pale light glows just below her hands, but when it reaches Torin, it bounces right off him. The woman looks startled and presses a hand down on his chest.
“I… I’m sorry, my magic can’t penetrate his. He’s… unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” she says.
“Find someone else to do it,” I plead.
The fae hesitates before shaking her head. “I’m very sorry, honey. I’m the strongest of the healers here. His magic is very different, and it’s stopping me from healing him. I’m sorry.”
“No… no, fuck,” I say.
The healer stands and waves down a paramedic. “Let’s get him to the hospital quickly.”
I’m torn between going with them and helping here. What if he wakes up and is confused… or what if he dies alone?
“We’re fine here, go,” Imani says.
I look around at the massacre that happened here. “No… there’s so much to do.”
“Riley, you’re obviously hurt yourself. Go, get looked at,” she insists as she looks down at my shaking hands. When she reaches for one, I pull it back and turn to the ambulance loading Torin.
“They’re not dead,” Vinny calls after he rolls over the first man that the horseman shot. “They’re still alive, just unconscious.”
Imani rushes over and checks the pulse of another person. “Good. That’s so good.”
There are medical personnel flooding the scene, so I try to hurry toward the ambulance that Torin is in. I’m unsteady and struggling to move faster than a shuffle, just barely making it as the doors close.
“Can I go with him?” I ask.
“You look like you need to get looked at yourself,” the paramedic says.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Get in the passenger seat,” she instructs as she opens the door, and when I try to climb in, my hands are so bad that she has to help me.
The paramedic starts driving while she eyes me. “Besides the bruising and wounds I can see, where else are you hurt?”
“Nowhere. My hands are unsteady after using magic, that’s all. It’s just from the magic.”
“It goes away?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she says, and the rest of the ride passes in silence as my mind spirals.
When we reach the hospital, Torin is escorted inside, still unconscious. The wounds he has are so grave that I know the only reason he’s still alive is because he’s a god, but then why isn’t he healing? The second he’s out of the ambulance, people are already standing by, likely aware of what happened at the fair and ready to take people in as they arrive. I want to follow him, but I’m pulled to the side before I can.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the paramedic says as Torin’s rushed off to the OR, leaving me behind. I debate telling her no, but I’m well aware there’s nothing more I can do until they’re finished. She sits me down on a gurney in the hallway where she cleans up my forehead and stitches it back together while I keep my hands tucked in my shirt, hoping she won’t see how badly they’re shaking. When she’s done, she insists on seeing them, but I give her the same excuse and she eventually gives up. Besides some stitches here and there and plenty of bruises, I’m deemed fine to leave.
After I make it to the waiting room, it’s still another hour before a nurse tells me Torin’s out of surgery and a doctor takes me back to talk to me.
A god needing to be cared for like a human… how little power does he have left? And what happens when it’s completely gone?
