Hexen's Binding

by J. Kowallis

  Twenty-Seven

  The ridges of Coll’s trachea ripple underneath his skin as if they’re threatening to pop through. The veins threading through his eyelids and up into his temples are a suffocating blue, shaded by stark red rings. Pale skin. Motionless. Though his chest still moves up and down, it’s irregular, and shallow.

  He is breathing, but not enough.

  Each of my breaths feel raw. Hoarse.

  I start to move my hand out of Sera’s and Angie hisses from the other side of the circle.

  “Do not break the circle. Not yet.”

  “He’s dying,” I whisper.

  Alina pants next to me, her eyes wide.

  Sera’s eyes are pink, raw, and still filled with tears.

  “Taran, I’m not sure it’s safe yet,” Angie again warns me.

  “Angie, I can’t let him die.” With that, I yank my hands out of Sera’s and my sister’s and kneel down next to Coll. In a frantic fury, I push away the broken chains before casting spells to resituate him on the bed. The broken links clatter to the wood floor, and finally his immobile body lays flat on the bed. My fingers tremble as they move along his arm and reach for his hand. His fingertips are blue. Cold. I lace my fingers with his and grip onto him like I’ve never held anyone in my life.

  “Coll?” my voice shudders. I struggle to hold myself together. “Coll, please tell me you can hear me.”

  He still doesn’t move.

  “Coll,” I plead. “I can’t lose you.” I close my eyes, bracing against the tears screaming to come out.

  There’s a spell. I know there’s a spell in my grimoire that Angie made me study over and over again.

  Vúsa a huidich, the words start to form in my memory.

  “Vúsa a huidich. Beslot te di seena. Vúsa a huidich. Gleis kotái di si hails.”

  I hear Angie’s breath hitch, but I ignore it.

  “Vúsa a huidich. Beslot te di seena. Vúsa a huidich. Gleis kotái di si hails.”

  Again, I repeat it a third time, grinding Coll’s knuckles together. He has to wake up. He has to still be there.

  I open my eyes slowly and through a blurry, wet haze, I wait for something. Anything to happen. I’d take the flutter of an eyelash, the shift of an eyeball underneath his lid, a fractional twitch of his thumb. Spirits, anything.

  My bottom lip quivers, my teeth clench and a horrified whimper that has the chill of a scream leaks from the back of my throat. Between one hand, I continue to crush Coll’s knuckles as a hot stream of tears runs down my cheeks. With my other hand, I reach for him, straightening his head, and smoothing his black hair away from his forehead. Sweat saturates nearly every strand, rolling down the side of his damp face. I brush the beads of salty sweat back into his hair and pull myself up on the bed next to him.

  “Don’t do this. I did not go through all of this just to have you die. Please, Coll. Fight. Fight to come back. Just . . .” I brush my hand along the side of his stubbled face, “stay with me.”

  A hand rests on my shoulder, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

  “Don’t you dare leave me, Collens Donovan. I swear by the ancestors, I will come to the afterlife and kill you myself.”

  “Taran,” Alina’s voice is soft. But all I do is bark at her.

  “Stop! Just, don’t.”

  My breathing shakes and I turn back to Coll, running my thumb over his eyelids, his cheekbones, never once releasing his hand.

  “Coll,” my voice feels broken. I feel broken. So much work, so much hope, and all we’ve been through. All I’ve messed up. “I’m so sorry I left you. I left you alone. And he did this to you.”

  Again, even though he hasn’t shown any changes, I lean down, nearly pressing my lips to his wet skin. Right near his ear. And whisper, “Vúsa a huidich. Beslot te di seena. Vúsa a huidich. Gleis kotái di si hails.”

  Three times.

  And still. Nothing.

  In the silence, I attempt to say it. The one thing I fought inside myself since I arrived.

  “Coll, I—” my throat closes off. I swallow down the fear. “I . . . I—”

  Oh, shit. Why is this so hard?

  “I know what you said to Sera. After that night in the library?” I nod briefly as another fat tear trickles down my cheek. “Well, there’s something I think you should know. I may take your breath away, but you make me feel like I’m home. A very weird, inappropriate home. But . . . I love you.” Those three words wisp over my lips like a long-feared secret. They sound distant. My breath quivers and I grip his hand tighter.

  “And for reasons I don’t even understand. It doesn’t make sense,” I blabber in a hushed tone, “because you’re such an ass. You’re annoying. Rude. Selfish.” My voice breaks again, and I drop my forehead to the crook of his neck. “But you make me feel like myself. I don’t have hide anything from you. I don’t have to pretend. The ancestors know how you challenge me, push me. Please, do not let this take you away.” I moan again. I can’t even stop it. “Coll, I love you.”

  The three other women in the room kneel around the bed. Angie moves from her position and comes around to my side. She takes my hand firmly in hers and slices my finger with a knife she’s summoned from somewhere. I flinch, jerking my hand back.

  She does the same to herself, cutting the tip of her finger. She hisses.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

  Angie presses her hand against mine. Fingers against fingers. Palm to palm. “Fuil til fuil. Magie til magie.”

  Through my blurry eyes, I see our hands turn a gentle shade of red as blood rushes under our skin. Energy thrums through my hand, coursing down my wrist and up my arm. The moment the power hits my heart I feel a jolt. Angie struggles to look at me as she whispers a healing spell and the cuts on our fingers heal after she pulls her hand back.

  “What . . .”

  “It’s time,” is all she says.

  It’s time to restore his memory. That’s what she means. Angie doesn’t even tell me what spell to use. Like the others, the words softly, gently formulate in my mind. This time, though, they come from my own memories. A day where I forgot who I was, where I was, and Coll brought me back. I grip Coll’s hand tighter as I close my eyes. A stream of tears rolls down my cheeks.

  “Cuimhure cé were hiem.”

  A faint glow radiates from my grip with Coll. It’s small, and almost undetectable. I can’t even remember if it did that same thing when Coll brought my memory back. Then again, we were both holding Craniarann when he did.

  The moment the radiance fades, there’s nothing. Nothing but silence and fear.

  “Try it again,” Angie’s voice shakes as she stands behind me. “Bring him out of his unconsciousness again.”

  Alina brushes her hand up and down my shoulder from behind. “Taran. Take my hand.”

  I sniff. Angie stands up and shuffles to her position, holding her hands out for Sera and Alina.

  Slowly, I turn to look at my sister. Angie motions to Alina, silently telling her what to do. Taking my one free hand, the one not clasped desperately to Coll’s, I reach for my sister’s outstretched palm and she gently laces her fingers around mine. Angie continues to point to the Sera. She obeys, reaching out to take Coll’s right hand in her left, and Angie connects all five of us.

  “Taran, start the spell again.”

  I shake my head. “What if it doesn’t work? I don’t want to see it fail. Again.”

  Angie’s eyes sharpen and she glares at me with a soft sort of understanding. “Start it again.”

  Fear sinks into my stomach, but the small, significant amount of hope still living in my chest pushes me forward.

  “Vúsa a huidich,” I recite, looking at Coll. The other ladies join me, Alina carefully studying my face. Sera most of all is trying so hard to say the words right. After the first time around, I look down at Coll, starting the second line. “Vúsa a huidich. Beslot te di seena. Vúsa a huidich. Gleis kotái di si hails.”

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nbsp; A wind starts to shift inside the room and my heart flutters, clenching Coll’s hand to my chest. “Vúsa a huidich. Beslot te di seena. Vúsa a huidich. Gleis kotái di si hails,” we all repeat for the final time. The energy in the room grows to a frenzied summit and then washes from the room like a single exhale.

  My focus stays on Coll.

  Please, ancestors, let there be some hope. Some movement.

  I wait, more tears rolling down my face.

  And then, a gurgle.

  A harsh, pinched breath originates from Coll’s throat and I lunge forward, placing my hand alongside his face. “Coll. Coll!”

  The only response I get is an even louder, painful moan. A smile spreads across my face and I release my sister’s hand to pull Sera closer to me. With both of us practically laying on him, myself crying and Sera equally as soaked in her own tears, it’s a miracle he’s even able to breathe at all.

  “Collens?” Sera prods, rubbing his arm. “Can yeh hear us?”

  Another moan. And then, “I dreamed once . . . of bein’ . . . in bed . . . wit’ two women. But one was never my sister.”

  She slaps his shoulder and then collapses on top of him, sobbing, holding him. “How dare yeh say that to me,” she gurgles. “I should murder yeh, Collens.” She deeply in hales and sobs again, gripping his shirt. “I hate yeh, I hate yeh so much, yeh feckin’ maggot.”

  Inside, the broken pieces of myself are struggling to put themselves back together again, but I let Sera have this moment. A sister, embracing her brother. And, on-brand, cursing him to hell.

  “Emilia!” Sera cries through her tears.

  The youngest Donovan stands, her face pale white. She rushes forward and crashes into her two siblings. One of which, I’m not sure can even get a decent breath.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Angie motions to my sister and my dad, and they all slowly escort themselves out of the bedroom, shutting the door.

  “Do yeh remember us? Oh, please, tell me you’re not that bollix anymore,” Emilia says, half laughing, half crying.

  “Of course,” he says, pinned against his sisters.

  It’s at this point that I realize I’m still holding his hand.

  Quickly, I let go of it. Coll, in turn, shoots his hand out to find me again and crunches my knuckles together as he squeezes. My heart lurches, my skin warms, and a new fear courses through me.

  Sera sees the movement in the chaos and pulls away from her brother. “Emilia,” she smiles down at her brother, “let’s give them some time.”

  “No,” she grins, and hiccups, reaching for Coll’s arm.

  “Come on.” Sera stands up. I don’t even see what happens after that. I look down at Coll and his eyes are open. Bloodshot, with dark purply-red shadows shading the skin underneath. But, it’s amazing how even in that look, I can see him. And I know, he’s back. It’s not Ruhmactír. Or anyone else. He sees me.

  My breaths shake all over again, and I whimper.

  Coll grips my hand as tight as he can and his own tears begin to trickle down his face, over his temples, and into his hair.

  “Taran,” he whispers. “Why does my nose hurt like hell?”

  I place my hand to my face as new tears join the old ones. I should laugh, but I can’t. Slowly, slowly, I lean toward him and heal the broken nose I gave to Ruhmactír. And then, I keep falling. Until my forehead rests on his chest. With his other hand, he reaches up and strokes my hair. Not another word is said while I cry. Periodically, I hear him struggle for breath himself through his own exhaustion and emotions. Time ticks by and all I want to feel is him. This is not the same man who I spoke with, met with, and was broken by over the last week. This is the man I remember.

  Oh, his smell. Even through his sweat and the dying energy in the room, I can smell it. It’s him.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally allow myself to say. “I’m so sorry.”

  He manages a feeble attempt at hushing me, then wraps his arm around my neck and pulls me in close. With his lips right on top of my ear, he says, “I told yeh before. I’m here.”

  Twenty-Eight

  I wrap the wool blanket tighter around me. The grass surrounding the lake rustles and dances in the gentle breeze. After we ejected Ruhmactír, Coll soon fell asleep due to the strain on his body and mind. It took a few hours to get everything sorted, the broken furniture tossed out of the bedroom, and the kitchen cleaned up from all the potion making. When we finished, Angie said that since Coll was sleeping, I should too. So, naturally, I disagreed. Instead I took a seat out here by the lake for the last couple hours to decompress and settle myself—sleep being the furthest thing from my mind.

  Sera and Emilia passed out in Angie’s room, Alina demanded to go back home, so Angie offered to travel her back, and Dad felt that calling Mom and giving her the necessary information on everything that happened would be wise. “Within reason,” he clarified before he kissed my forehead and stepped into his own room.

  With my hands tucked inside the blanket, I play with the end of my side-swept fishtail braid.

  What I whispered to Coll—before he woke up—those words keep revolving around in my head as I realize the truth of what I said. I told him I loved him. Angie, for the last few days, urged me to figure that out. Knowing her the way I do, I’m sure she already knew how I felt. She knew my emotions before even I did. She is, after all, a Ravn with a pretty hefty cavalry of thought and memory spells up her sleeve.

  Truth is, I knew how I felt too. I just refused to admit it. Admitting it opened me up to devastation. Acknowledging my real feelings, as confusing and as simple as they were, made me vulnerable. It scared me.

  It still does.

  While his sisters gave Coll and I a quiet moment back at the house, a question still lingers in my mind. Many, actually. I wonder if he remembers anything that happened over the last few months. I wonder if he knows what I said. Most importantly, I want to know how he feels.

  No. I close my eyes. I don’t need to know that yet. I just need to know he’ll be all right.

  Behind me, the door of the cottage opens with a squeak. After a long pause, the door closes. If it weren’t for the footsteps coming toward me, I would have assumed they went back in the house. Before he even says my name, I start to look back.

  “Taran,” Coll mutters.

  I make it fully around to look at him and I push myself to my feet. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” I answer.

  “I did,” he nods. He’s dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and pair of worn jeans. Most likely summoned from his flat by Angie. They pair perfectly with the drained expression in his eyes and the slow shuffle in his step. Everything about the way he looks—the dark circles around his eyes, the way he moves—proves to me he just survived a game of doorbell ditch with death. “When I woke up, your da helped me to the washroom so I didn’t smell like a feckin’ pig’s arse.”

  Realizing the awkwardness of that statement, I skew my eyebrows. “My dad?”

  Still looking exhausted, but not quite as hollow, Coll tilts his head. “It was as uncomfortable for me as it was for him. I assure yeh.”

  My laugh is sincere but guarded. The smile lingers on my face as I watch him. Marveling that he’s standing here. “Do you want to have a seat?” I motion to the Adirondack I summoned from the porch, the blanket around my body flapping like bat wings as I do.

  “Love to. My legs aren’t quite up to snuff right now.” Coll slowly maneuvers toward the chair and I reach out to help him drop onto the seat. His hand grips mine, unrelenting. “Sit with me.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. “There’s not enough room for both of us. It’s okay. I can stand.”

  “Please.”

  If it weren’t for my absolute exhaustion, I probably could have answered without crying, but unfortunately, I completely fail. A few renegade tears drop down. Coll grips my hand.

  “Why won’t yeh sit?”

  “Because I’m terrified.”

  There’s n
o humor in his face, nor in his deep, searching eyes. And he waits.

  Surrendering to his request, my knees slowly bend, and Coll pulls me into his lap. That’s when the real crying begins. Coll gives me a crooked smile and brushes most of the tears away, cupping my face in his hand. His other braces my back, keeping the blanket wrapped around me. “Jayz, woman. Yeh don’t have to if yeh don’t want to. No need to cry about it.”

  “Shut up. I’m tired.”

  He chuckles. Coll’s hand around my back reaches up and supports me as he cradles my head onto his shoulder.

  Again, silence creeps over us. I don’t know how long we sit like this, but I do notice a rather conspicuous change in the level of sunlight in the sky as the seconds, minutes, maybe hours pass by. I don’t think either of us know which of us needs to, or wants to, speak first. With so much that’s happened, so much that’s unsaid, the anxious energy builds.

  Coll must feel it too because he opens his mouth. I beat him to it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say first.

  “For what?” he asks with his tired voice.

  “I should have known.” I push myself up and look him in the eye. “After we came back. When we landed in Bryden, you didn’t know who I was. I should have recognized the sulfur from the possession spell. I should have known. It’s my fault that it took us so damn long.”

  The more I talk, the more Coll’s eyebrows dive. “Oh, bullshite. It’s no more your fault than it is mine. Taran, I need yeh to know everythin’. Everythin’ yeh might not know. If only so you’ll stop apologizin’.”

  Coll’s jaw tightens, and I see a frustrated weariness in his face. “Garrit hit me with that damned memory hex that day, and I truly didn’t know yeh. Honest truth, yeh were the finest girl I’d ever seen, but yeh have to understand that my da, he . . .”