by Karlik, Mary
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He cut his eyes to the clean bandage wrapped around his bicep. “Jack showed me the dragon poison. How’s that going to affect me?”
She concentrated on keeping a positive expression.
He focused on the nervous flutter of her wings. “That bad.”
She drew in a shallow breath. “You will heal. But only time will tell if it will affect you.”
“And what will it do—the dragon poison?”
Her wings fluttered again. “Worst case scenario?”
“Worst case scenario.”
“You could become a shape-shifter.”
“Like Miranda?” His face wore a stoic expression, but Layla saw fear behind his eyes. “Will I shed my skin?”
“No. If you shift, you will change, but not like she did. The dragon had already consumed her. When she shifted, there was nothing human left. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I see.” He set his jaw in a hard line and looked away.
She bit her lip and searched her mind for something positive to say. “We got to your wound before the beads had been completely absorbed.”
“How do you know? What if some of those green balls are rolling around inside me right now, working on my system?”
“If it happens… if you begin to turn… you have to fight to keep your human side. You have to learn to control it.” Layla twisted her hands. “I’m sorry, Ian. If I’d been faster—if I hadn’t frozen—”
He brushed her words away. “Don’t go there, Layla. You did the best you could—that anybody could—and we didn’t lose anybody.”
Except Isla. “Aye. But this is a wee victory. There are so many more to rescue and my sister is still missing.”
Ian patted her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She forced a little smile. “Thanks.” She touched Isla’s pendant and looked at the lads. “They’ll be waiting for us, to be sure. But we need to go back for the globes soon. There’s no telling what they might do with them.”
Buzzard said, “True. But to go after the remaining fey without a solid plan would be suicide. And we need to rest.”
Ian winced. “Help me to that wall. I want to sit up.”
Jack and Buzzard scooted Ian to the side of the room opposite the fey. Once Ian was settled, he reviewed his team. “And have you thought about a plan?”
Layla said, “Some of the fey have volunteered. We could use their help.”
Theo leaned in. “Aye, we need them, but be careful who you choose to help. They have energy now, but look past the effects of the elixir.”
Layla studied the crowd and saw haggard exhaustion behind their smiles. With bodies too weak and tired to manage an upright position, they stood stooped on trembling legs. And it wasn’t just the fey who were haggard. Ian was weak from his injury and his men were exhausted. And the truth be known, Layla was so tired she wasn’t sure she could manage to fly across the room, much less fight. “We can’t battle tonight.”
Ian rasped. “We rest tonight, prepare tomorrow, and battle tomorrow night.”
Buzzard sat with one knee drawn up and his elbow hitched on top. “We need to strike both places at once. Get in and get out. As Layla said, the Dark Harvester and Connor Davis will be expecting us and no doubt they’ll have powerful magic ready.”
“Then we should too.” The group turned to the Narcissus fairy standing at Ian’s feet.
“My name is Shona.” She turned to Layla. “Our magic is weak, but we are recovering—some of us faster than others.”
Ian focused on the fey. “I can’t ask you to fight. You’ve been through enough.”
She jutted her chin. “You’re not asking. We’ve been tortured. We’ve watched our people suffer. We deserve a chance to fight for their freedom.”
Ian looked at Layla. “You said we could use them, but won’t the Dark Harvester just take their magic?”
“Aye, he can. But what if we used their magic not to fight, but to nab the globes?”
Theo pushed his hair behind his ears. “If the Dark Harvester is there, can’t he still take magic?”
Shona answered, “In theory. But it’s almost impossible to harvest magic without a stream to connect to. And if it comes to a battle, we can be a mighty force when we combine our magic.”
Ian’s breaths grew more labored, his words more strained. “So we go back to the warehouse, gather the globes in the sacks, and pray there’s nothing horrible waiting for us.” He wheezed a couple of breaths and sweat beaded his forehead. “What about the ones in the shop?”
Buzzard rubbed a hand across his scalp. “If we’re going to hit both at once, it would be helpful to have magic on either end.”
Ian looked at Shona and rasped, “This will be dangerous. Anybody who wishes to join us must be aware of the risks.”
She spread her wings wide. “We may not have the advantage of Layla’s human side, but we’re willing to fight to the death if that’s what it takes.”
The fairy’s words hit Layla with an unexpected force that brought tears surging to her eyes. For the first time in her life, she’d been shown respect by other fey. She smashed her lips tight and rapid blinked tears away.
Ian blew out a hard breath. “Thank you, Shona. I’ll leave it you and Layla to choose the strongest volunteers. Rest for now. We’ll rescue the others tomorrow after midnight.”
Jack pointed at Ian’s wound. “I don’t think there’s a we in this.”
Ian shrugged his bandaged arm. “This? It’s just a wee cut.” But as he said the words, pain slashed across his face and a moan escaped as he slumped to his side. Shallow breaths puffed through darkened lips as a green cast seeped into his skin.
“Ian?” Layla’s stomach dropped to the base of her belly as her pulse kicked up a notch. She croaked, “Help him.”
Jack grabbed his field kit. “Theo, get him on his back. Keep his airway open.”
Theo rolled Ian on his back and held his head to keep his chin from slumping forward. “What happened? One minute he was talking and then this.”
Jack handed Layla a pair of shears. “Cut that dressing off while I have a listen.” He placed the instrument on Ian’s chest while Layla snipped the bandage from Ian’s arm.
As soon as the wound was exposed, a putrid smell was released. Layla’s stomach lurched. The gash gaped open, broken suture threads dangling across blackened, dead tissue.
Father Wilson appeared over her shoulder. “This will take powerful magic to heal.”
Layla dropped the soiled bandage on the floor. “We need the Wise Wife of Keith.”
“I’m here—just in the shadows.”
Layla’s gaze searched the darkened alcove just outside the cellar. “Please. We need you.”
The spirit moved cautiously to Ian’s side. “This is not from the dragon. I’ve seen this before. In my time.”
Worry rattled through Layla’s system. “What is it?”
“The black death.” The healer backed away.
“The plague?” Theo ran a shaky hand over his mouth. “How?”
Layla looked at him. “You can see the spirits?”
“Aye. I have the Sight.”
Buzzard snapped a look at Theo. “How did it manifest so quickly?”
The priest stood next to Buzzard. “If I may. The dragon poison would weaken the constitution, whilst accelerating the incubation, as it were.”
“The tunnel is full of the ashes of those who were burned during the outbreak.” Layla pressed her hand against her stomach as if she could loosen the knot forming there. “I felt it the first time I entered.”
Jack placed the bell of his instrument on Ian’s chest and listened. “He’s dying.”
Layla swallowed the fear lodged in her throat. “Wise Wife of Keith. Tell me what to do.”
The spirit nodded. “It will not be easy to save him, but I’ve seen it done. You must know it will weaken you.”
“Just tell me what to do.” Layla
’s voice was desperate, and if she could have held on to the spirit, she would have shaken her.
The healer narrowed her eyes at Layla. “Do you know of the Dùsgadh?”
The awakening. Layla had once watched the spell performed on a child who’d been attacked by a kelpie. It’d drained the healer, but she’d saved the child. “I have seen it. Tell me what to do.”
The Wife scanned the room. “You’ll need candles—one of them must be white—and oil. Rosemary and lavender must be ground into the oil. For that you need a mortar and pestle.”
The priest spirit moved toward the archway. “We have what you need. Candles and oil are in abundance here. There’s a mortar and pestle in the kitchen. There is rosemary and lavender in the garden, but it’s beyond the safety of the kirkyard. Come, I’ll show you.”
Theo stood. “I’ll go. It’s safer.” He followed the priest out of the room.
Layla turned to the Wife. “What next?”
The spirit gave Layla instructions, which she repeated for the benefit of the men. “When Theo returns we need to remove his clothes.”
Jack pulled a small bag of fluid from his kit. “While you’re preparing your magical healing, I’d like to practice the human healing.”
Jack punctured a vessel in Ian’s arm and dripped fluid into it through a long tube. Next, he drew fluid from a bottle into a syringe and squirted it into the wound. As the blackened tissue loosened, he dabbed it away with a square pad. But as fast as Jack cleaned it, the black seemed to reappear. He kept working, though—squirting and cleaning, changing one pad after another, until Theo returned.
Jack dropped the last pad on the floor with the rest of the bandages. “Human medicine isn’t helping. Let’s hope you have better luck with magic.”
Jack and Buzzard stripped Ian’s clothes while Theo placed a candle near each shoulder and foot.
The fairies remained on the opposite side of the small cellar but were focused on the human activity. Layla fey-sized and flew above them. “There mustn’t be negative energy. If you do not believe he can be healed, I’ll ask you to wait just outside the cellar. It’s protected—you’ll be safe.”
They all remained.
“Very well. I’ll thank you to send healing thoughts to the human.”
Human-sized, she carved Ian’s name in a white candle, lit it, and used it to light the other candles. When she finished, she placed the white candle above his head.
Theo placed the mortar and pestle in front of her. As the spirit instructed, Layla held her hands over the bowl. Theo poured oil over them while she rubbed the oil into her skin. Closing her eyes, she took two relaxing breaths and allowed her consciousness to settle into meditation.
The Wife whispered in her ear, “You are ready.”
Layla opened her eyes, stripped rosemary from its woody stems, and let it fall in the mortar, followed by the lavender. As she worked, she remained focused on healing Ian. When the content was a fine powder, Theo added a drop of oil to the mixture. She rotated the bowl counter-clockwise as she ground the herbs. She turned the mortar seven times, each time repeating the chant the healer whispered.
* * *
Heal the mind.
Heal the heart.
Heal the lungs.
Heal the blood.
Heal the bones.
Heal the muscles.
Heal the soul.
* * *
When she finished the spell, Theo poured oil on her hands a second time.
Ian’s breathing grew shallower and slower, but she couldn’t think about it. It would take her focus away from the spell and right now the spell was the only thing that mattered.
She began the next part.
She dipped her thumb in the potion and made a cross on his forehead.
“Heal the mind.”
After drawing over his heart, she pressed her palm pressed flat against his skin. The slow thud of that precious, life-giving organ bumped against her hand.
“Heal the heart.”
Covering her hands with more of the mixture, she trailed her fingers across his torso and down to the base of his ribs. His skin was cold beneath her touch and she poured more magic into the spell and into Ian. And as her power left her, she grew weak until a whisper was all she could manage.
“Heal the lungs. Breathe.”
Forcing her body to move to his arms and then his legs, she massaged the mixture into his skin.
“Heal the bones. Heal the muscles.”
Theo rolled Ian to his side. Layla coated Ian’s back with the oil mixture and repeated the process and chants. While she waited for Theo to roll Ian on his back, she dropped to all fours and heaved deep breaths. It would be so easy to collapse on the floor and hope she’d done enough. But she wouldn’t fail Ian. He’d risked his life for her people. He had to survive.
Pulling energy from her center, and starting at the tips of his fingers, she smoothed her hands toward his heart in long, slow strokes.
“Heal the blood.”
Next, she moved to his feet, again pulled long strokes toward his heart, and chanted the spell.
Her muscles trembled with exhaustion. To complete the process, she had to place her hands on Ian’s head, but she didn’t have the strength to raise her arms.
She whispered through parched lips, “Theo, take my hands, move them for me. The healer will tell you what to do.”
He covered her hands with his and following the Wise Wife’s instructions, dragged them the length of Ian’s body to his feet while Layla breathed the words, “Heal the body. Heal the soul.”
When she finished, she collapsed.
Jack examined Ian. “No change.”
The priest said, “It takes time.”
The gaps between Ian’s breaths grew longer as each breath grew weaker. Layla placed her hand over his heart and her throat tightened. “It scarcely beats. We don’t have time.”
The Wise Wife of Keith neared Layla. “There is something else. The Caigneachadh. It’s dangerous. Many have died who’ve tried.”
Chapter Eighteen
Layla knew of this binding of souls and of the deaths that had resulted. But she couldn’t think about what might happen—she had to save Ian. Failure is not an option. “It’s his only chance.”
The Wife flew in a circle above Ian. “I fear you are too weak. And he is too close to death.”
“No.” Buzzard crossed the room and picked up the small purple bottle sitting next to the empty mesh bags. “There’s this. The elixir you gave the fairies. It sped their recovery—maybe it’ll help you too.” He pulled the stopper from the top and brought it to Layla.
She took it from him. “Aye. It will help.”
Shona flew to Layla. “It’s but a temporary fix.”
“Temporary is all I need.” Layla sipped from the bottle. As soon as the liquid touched her tongue, warmth spread through her. Energy replaced her fatigue, her muscles no longer ached, and her magic felt strong.
The spirit made another circle. “Once you are bound, there will always be a connection. As healer, you will always feel his pain. And when he dies, so shall you.”
Sorrow filled her. “Aye. But it’s his only hope. I’ll do what I must.” She turned to Jack. “He doesn’t need to be bare. Do you have something to cover him with?”
“Aye.” Jack pulled a silver sheet from his rucksack and unfolded it over Ian.
The Wife nodded. “Remember, it will be difficult to release him back to his own body. But you must.”
Father Wilson bowed his head. “If I may. It would be helpful for the fairy to have a guide. To keep her grounded, as it were.”
Theo raised his hand. “I have the Sight. I know about grounding. Give me something of yours, Layla.”
She grabbed the shears from where she’d left them when she removed the bandage, cut a lock of her hair, and handed it to Theo.
The healer backed away from Ian. “Are you ready?”
The binding of souls was a s
acred ceremony meant to be shared for eternity between lovers. It brought warmth, love, and healing to both. To bind for the purpose of healing was not only dangerous, it was considered an affront to the ceremony. Performing the act in a room full of strangers with a half-dead human was vulgar and reckless. But she’d do it.
She’d do it because if she didn’t, Ian would die, and she wasn’t willing to accept that.
“I’m ready.” She pulled the cover back to Ian’s waist, lay atop his body, and pressed her chest against his. Closing her eyes, she concentrated until she had fixed on the feel of his heartbeat. It was slow and barely palpable beneath his skin.
Then she allowed her body to relax until it felt as though she had melted into him. Like a spirit searching for a host, her brìgh stretched beyond the bounds of her body and sank into his. Under normal circumstances, his soul could resist the bond if he wished. But as weak as he was, his soul seemed to welcome the strength from hers.
When she felt the joining of their souls, she repeated the spell the healer had taught her.
“As my heart beats, so does yours... as your heart beats, so does mine.”
She matched her heart’s rhythm until they were in sync beat for beat. Her arms and legs tingled as the blood that coursed through her slowed and her mind filled with a fogginess that told her that moving air in and out of her lungs was a chore she no longer cared to perform.
Everywhere his blood flowed, so did the pain from the disease that wracked his body. It tore through her in waves of agony. She shuddered and cried out. It was too much. She wasn’t strong enough to shoulder his agony. She had to end it. Death was their only release.
With her soul entwined with his, she rose from the boundary of her body, pulling him from his. As soon as they were free of their bodies, the pain was gone. His spirit was alive and together they floated near the ceiling.
She looked down at the couple below. One half-fey, the other human, both broken and full of misery. But as spirits they were free. They didn’t need the weakness of their bodies. They could fly though the ceilings and walls and roam the world—two spirits as one.
A stern voice sounded in her foggy mind. “Come back now, lassie.”