Soulceress (The Mythean Arcana 2) - Page 67

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Esha asked, her hand pressed to his forehead.

He drew in a ragged breath. “Whenever Aurora uses the power of my soul, it makes me ill. The witches gave me pills to fight it, but they’ve been failing. My body is becoming immune to them.”

“Shit.” Her worried gaze searched his face. “I’m going to the witches. You need more pills.”

“Nay. You canna aetherwalk that far. It’ll drain your power too much.”

Esha stared down at Warren, her heart twisting in the most horrible way. He looked near death. This was what it was like to lose someone. It was everything she’d been afraid of. He shouldn’t be mortal, but his body was giving out like one.

“I don’t care,” she said. “You need something to make you better. I can fuel up on power when I’m with the witches. Aetherwalking back will drain it more than if I came back the slow way, but I’ll still have enough. There’s no other option.”

She yanked the covers up over him and said a brief prayer to whatever magic had kept this room in pristine condition since it had been abandoned so long ago. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

“Nay. Doona go.”

“I don’t see how you think I have a choice.” She called the Chairman to her. When he pressed up against her leg, they disappeared.

It was dark and moonless on the university campus when they appeared and Esha prayed that all the witches would be together when she knocked on the cottage door. Not that she wanted to see them, but she needed a hell of a lot of power to make up for aetherwalking that distance.

She was in luck. There were at least twenty in the small cottage when the door swung open at her knock. She breathed a sigh of relief as their power flowed into her. The marmot witch stood on the other side, hand on the doorknob and frowning, as if she were the designated witchy butler.

“Warren’s sick. Your pills aren’t working. We need something else,” Esha said.

“You don’t have to be so bitchy,” marmot witch said.

“He’s sick. Really, really sick. I’m being urgent, not bitchy.”

The witch huffed. “I can see that you’re just scared for him, so I’ll cut you some slack. And I like him. But there’s nothing else safe that we can give him.”

“He’s so sick he can barely move,” Esha said. “And I don’t think he’s going to get any better. We’re desperate.”

Marmot witch frowned, her eyes dark with worry. Unconsciously, she reached up to stroke the fat brown rodent who rode on her shoulder. Esha recognized the act as something she did with the Chairman and scowled at the similarities between them.

“Come on, I’m begging you,” Esha said. Which was crazy, because she hated these witches. But she couldn’t bear to see Warren so sick.

Marmot witch turned and joined two other witches in a corner. Esha couldn’t stop her feet from tapping as she waited. They conferred in hushed whispers and after approximately a century, marmot witch went to a tall armoire and pulled out a tiny emerald glass bottle.

“Here.” She thrust it at Esha, scowling. “That’s elictum erarus. He’ll feel no pain as long as he takes that. One drop of liquid per day, right on the tongue. No more, or he’s dead as a squashed toad. But it will only last for five days, maybe four, before he’s immune to it too. Then he’ll be left in even worse straits than he is now.”

“Worse?”

“Much. So get his damned soul back.”

Esha nodded. “Thanks. Really.”

Marmot witch shrugged. Desperate to get back to Warren, Esha didn’t even bother to leave the front stoop before she aetherwalked. Upon arrival, a quick survey of her power supply felt like she was already down to half. Damn, that was a long way.

She ran up the stairs to Warren, who was sitting up but still white as a sheet. Her heart slowed its frantic, worried beat when she saw him alive. Gods, had she really been afraid he’d die on her like Brian had? Of course he wouldn’t. He was a Mythean.

“Here. The witches gave me this.” She held out the glass bottle. “One drop per day. Five days. Maybe four. Then you’re worse off than you are now.”

“Damn.” He held out a hand for the bottle, but it shook so badly that she pushed it down.

“Let me.” She sat next to him on the bed, and he tilted his head back and opened his mouth. She focused hard on squeezing the dropper the slightest bit. One drop of silver fluid fell onto his tongue. She tightened the cap on the bottle and looked up. His color had returned abruptly and his eyes had brightened.

“Bloody hell, I feel amazing,” he said. He stood and flexed his arms, and her eyes shot to the muscles that bunched beneath the fabric of his shirt. “I feel completely normal. That’s serious medicine.”

“Not medicine. Magic. Strong magic.”

Tags: Linsey Hall The Mythean Arcana Paranormal
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