“Bast, please,” I whisper. “You’re hurting yourself.”
He backs against the wall, hitting with a heavy thud that jostles me in his arms. Slowly, he slides down to the ground.
“Can I bring the medic back?” she asks.
“I will not be touched,” Bastian rumbles.
“They want to heal you,” I say, drawing his gaze to me.
His claws comb through my hair and down my back. “They want to take from me.”
“You’ve left more than enough all over the floor,” Amyrah says.
“I do not need their medicine.” He holds me closer. “Your presence heals me.”
“Where’s my bag?” I ask Amyrah.
She reaches into the breast fold of her robes and out comes my messenger bag. There must be some kind of space saving spell on them…
She takes a step forward and Bastian growls, propping himself up in a position to fight.
Amyrah rolls her eyes and slides the bag across the floor. Bastian loops the strap with his tail and pulls it back to me. Inside, safe and sound, is his soulbound book.
Bastian tucks me in close, circling us with his wings. The light spears through the scarred holes in his leathery flesh, and I begin to read.
Ten chapters in, I realize I don’t feel anything. Not thirsty, or hungry, or even like I need to pee. So, I keep reading. And reading.
Until the book is finished.
Bastian isn’t asleep, but in his trance-like state when he’s absorbing a story. I push his wing aside and check the wound on his shoulder. It’s entirely healed, lighter-colored skin zagging through the scales.
Amyrah is sitting in a chair near the wall where the door portal is. She’s waving her hand through red magic in the air that looks like a computer screen. Every once in a while she stops to jab at something, and then wiggles her fingers, making new lines of text appear.
“Is that it, then?” she asks when she notices me watching her. “He’s fine?”
“I think so,” I say.
She gives a mirthless chuckle. “Just needed a bedtime story.
“Right, well, I’m almost finished with his registration profile. His documentation will be assessed by the threat department, and then we’ll see.”
I scowl. “See what?”
She clears the magic away with a shooing motion and looks at me. “It’s time for your registration, now.”
“Seewhat?” I demand more forcefully.
She stands and beckons to me. “Let’s go.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving him here alone with you people.”
“You people.” She snorts. “You mean people likeyou?”
“Bastian told me about the mages guild,” I spit with venom. “You burned his eyes and tortured him.”
Amyrah sucks down a deep breath as she looks up at the ceiling, as if praying for the patience to deal with me. “Earth didn’t join the IBMA until the mid-eighteenth century. It wasn’t us, or anyone alive today.”
It seems a bit silly now that I’ve said it. Of course, the people who hurt him are all dead. Just because they’re mages and warlocks doesn’t mean they’re immortal.
