Chapter Twenty Five
It feels exactly how I remember. No, it’s worse. Much worse. Not only is my own magic being squeezed and shoved, but I also sense every bit of his twisted magic ripping into mine as he tears it from my body.
I long for him to finish and for the nothingness to take me.
No.
Not this time.
It’s all too easy to find every spec of magic left inside of me since Stewart’s made it the only thing I can feel at the moment. His magic wraps around me like a net, reminding me of the spell holding Al, keeping him miniature. The difference is Al’s spell was created by one source. Stewart’s magic, on the other hand, is a patchwork of energy and each spot where one sorceress’s magic knots with the next not only feels different, it’s also weak.
My magic contracts a little more. So much pain. I don’t have time to wonder if what I’m doing will work. If it doesn’t, this is the end.
Much like how Stewart tries to drive all of my magic to my mouth, I push it all to one spot, focusing on one of those weak areas.
It’s like pulling too hard at the seam of a shirt. There’s an extraordinary amount of pressure fighting against my magic, and then nothing. And I can breathe.
I shove again, this time spreading my magic over my open palm as I hit him in the gut with both flesh and fire. He stumbles back, though I’ve no idea how far. I fall to the ground in a clump and try to scramble to my feet before his next attack comes, but I can’t. I can’t move my arms to prop myself up. All I can do is lie there in a heap and wait for him to come at me again. There’s no chance of stopping him twice.
“Lou!”
Al’s voice. He’s alive. I wish I could embrace relief, but I’m too exhausted to feel much of anything. Stewart might not have taken my magic, but after all of the power I’ve used today, he might as well have. I feel as drained.
“You again,” Stewart sighs. “Honestly, does no one around here stay dead?”
The darkness in Al is obvious as he says, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
They are the most frightening words I’ve ever heard. Bloodthirsty. It barely sounds like Al at all.
And then I realize why he sounds so angry. I’m on the floor, and I’m not moving. He thinks Stewart succeeded. He thinks I’ve been drained again.
I struggle to get up to let him know I’m still alive, more or less. But when I manage to force myself onto my hands and knees, and then finally to just my knees, I know the effort is pointless. My vocal cords won’t work so I can’t call out, and Al’s too focused on Stewart to notice anything else.
Instead of trying to distract him, I focus on the tiny bit of magic I have left inside of me and slip into Al’s head to see what’s happening. Stewart’s torso is the only thing in focus at first as Al steps aside to avoid a blade whizzing into sight with seemingly no warning.
But before I can get my weary mind to decide what action to take, Al finds his own opening. I see it too, though it only lasts a second. The time it takes Stewart to build up a final blast of magic to leave nothing of Al but ash.
Al’s fury has made him fast, though. And strong.
His sword cuts cleanly through the magic Stewart’s gathering and makes its way easily through skin and between bone to plough a hole straight through the man’s chest. At first it looks like it has no effect on Stewart as he continues to stare at Al with fury. And then his body jerks, pulling the sword and Al with him. A tiny trickle of crimson pools at the corner of his mouth. Stewart opens his lips as though to speak, but instead of words, a gob of dark, sickening blood comes out.
When Al jerks his sword sideways, I’m thrown from his view. It’s not because I can’t watch any more, though I can’t say I’m sorry to miss whatever horror happens next. It’s because I’m hit with a feeling a lot like a rubber band snapping back into place.
The sensation smashes me with such force it’s almost as though the air’s been knocked out of me again. And then the pain stops and everything is way too bright.
My hands press against my eyes before my mind can catch up to what’s happening. I blink several times and slowly lower my hands.
I can see.
Barely. Everything’s blurry, like waking up after a bad night’s sleep, but there are definitely shapes and lights. A lot of lights actually. Not only the blinding kind like when you turn on a lamp after your sight has adjusted to the dark, but the magical kind.
As Stewart’s limp body slides to the floor, the light focuses first on the area where the sword plunged into his chest. When Al yanks his blade from Stewart, the light shifts and spreads. Some of it dissolves while the majority glides slowly toward Al.
In the same moment, Al finally notices me. His lips start to curl into a surprised smile just as the very edge of the cloud of light touches his skin. His mouth opens in a gasp of pain as his body becomes a vacuum, sucking up the rest of Stewart’s magic in a second.
I watch in horror as Al’s expression shifts from fear to something cruel. No longer does he look at me as though he’s happy I’m alive, but instead as though I’m the most delicious looking meal he’s ever seen. And he hasn’t eaten for days.
This is what Rose warned me about. The person standing in front of me might look like Al, but there is nothing of him left behind those eyes.
The shock of having my sight returned combined with seeing what happened to Al makes me sluggish. He has no such problems.
Without seeming to move, he’s suddenly only inches from me, the glow of his newfound magic burning my tender eyes.
He shoves his forearm against my neck and tries to shove me back against the wall, but with most of the magic Stewart stole now returned to me, I’ve also regained some of my energy. I grip his arm to keep it from pressing against my throat, while at the same time not allowing him to back away. I kick, aiming for the inside of his knee, but he’s too fast. His leg blocks mine, and since I don’t use the amount of force I should, or could have if I wasn’t fighting Al, the contact does nothing but make him smile.
I side step for a little more space between the wall and myself, but he moves with me and forces me back. This time I throw a punch along with my kick. He’s able to block the kick, but the punch lands dead in the center of his stomach.
Al balks for only a second, but it’s all I need to bring my arm around and elbow him in the face. His arm slips from my throat to protect against the blow. I use the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and run for the door.
Not quickly enough. His arm snakes around my waist and with a strength enhanced by his magic, he slams me against the wall and pins me there with his own body. I’m out matched in strength and weight. Even magic. He might have only received his, but he’s been trained how to use it all of his life, while I’m stumbling my way through, hoping for the best.
And he has one advantage I will never have. He doesn’t care. It’s there in his eyes as he calmly wipes a bit of blood from the side of his mouth where my elbow landed and then smiles at me, too much like Stewart’s false smirk. Any affection he might have felt for me is gone.
“You pull your punches,” he comments. “Silly girl.”
“Don’t do this.” The words come out in sobs.
“And why not?” He drags his nose and mouth against the sensitive part of my skin between my jaw and ear. “When you smell so appetizing.”
I can’t ignore the heat radiating from his touch any more than the pressure where our hips and chests meet. When his thumb lifts the bottom of my shirt to stroke my stomach, I nearly cry. This should be what I want. Any other time since the moment he became full sized and I would be panting for more.
And now all I can do is conjure the one spell that will end it all.
Stewart may have seen my magic coming, but I know from the way Al looks into my eyes, taunting me by dragging his lips against my chin, he’s not prepared for what I’m about to do.
He’ll kill me if I don’t. I know it. Any second now will
be too late. I need to cast the spell and tear him apart.
“Please,” I say one last time. “Don’t.”
“Give me one reason,” he says, lips brushing mine.
“You promised you’d never hurt me.”
He pulls away a fraction and I could swear there’s the slightest shift in his eyes. But then again, maybe I simply want him to still be the Al who fell into my lap, and helped us escape from the barn. I want it so badly I’m seeing things that aren’t there.
When he presses his body a little harder against mine and lowers his head toward me, I close my eyes. There’s no more time to think and worry if what I’m doing is right. I bring the spell together to form in the palm of my hand and with no warning, shove it into his chest.
Or, that’s the plan.
The second I move, the pressure against my body is gone. I open my eyes and quickly glance around the room to figure out where he’s gone to before he can attack me again. When my initial scan comes up with nothing I look again, this time using my magic to feel for his.
Nothing.
It’s like he’s completely vanished. Timidly, I take a single step away from the wall while never letting go of the spell. It has to be a trick. He can’t have simply disappeared. Even if he sensed the spell I was creating, he would have broken it, or fought back. There’s no way Al would run. Not the Al I know, and definitely not the wizard who attacked me.
But no matter how far I reach with my magic, I can’t feel him. There’s no wizard within the entire neighborhood.
There is, however, an incredibly dangerous magical creature.