“You can heal me,” he snapped back, taking hold of my arm. “But you can’t heal yourself.”
Regardless of the risks, I was bound by law to help, even if it meant my own death or disfigurement. “You know I don’t have a choice.” Yanking my arm away, I placed my hands on the boy’s chest and focused on summoning the necessary power. Nothing stirred, not even the smallest hint of warmth. My core felt as cold and empty as an abandoned hearth.
A wet gurgling noise came from the boy’s throat. His small body convulsed and bloody sputum spilled from his mouth.
“Dear Lord!” I gasped. “He’s going to die!”
I closed my eyes in a desperate search for any scraps of power I may have overlooked. There had to be something left, tucked away in the deepest reaches of my core. A spark flickered, then a small flame began to grow, along with the unpleasant prickling sensation I had experienced a few days before. I ignored it, concentrating on keeping the little boy from death’s grasp.
By sheer will, I forced the fire to life inside me. Its familiar warmth flowed to my fingertips where it quivered for a moment on the surface of what now resembled a near sheet of watery pustules over the boy’s body. I pushed past this first barrier. Thick opaque fluid flashed through my mind, followed by layers of muscles and bone. Arriving deep inside the boy’s chest, I surrounded his failing heart while attempting to heal the inflammation that festered inside his lungs. The other organs would soon begin to fail if the poison was not cleared from his blood.
Hold on little one...I’ll have you out of the woods yet.
The prickling intensified. Rather than stop, I had no other choice but to release another small flood of power. Nausea swept through me as the prickling turned to searing nails. I cried out, my focus momentarily broken by the intense pain.
“Selah!” Henry yelled.
The boy groaned and his heart began to flutter erratically. I clenched my eyes tighter, and another spark gave life to a small flame. Nails tore at my insides, but I pushed on, knowing that to give in to the pain would mean the boy’s death. More power came to the surface, poured from my hands into his chest. Shaking, I fell forward, the warmth continuing to flow from me like water through an open dyke.
“Selah! Let go!” Henry yelled.
Bile hit the back of my throat as the pain ripped through me, threatening to tear me apart. I cried out again, an incoherent plea for help. Strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me up, and then everything turned black.
Chapter Seven
All Hallows by the Tower
The physical world slowly took form around me. I was lying on my back, stretched out on what felt like a soft cushion. The pain and nausea were gone. Warmth had replaced the crisp night air, bathing my skin, trickling through my veins. I felt a gentle rocking motion and realized that someone held my shoulder.
“Selah,” a woman called, her voice comforting and familiar.
I ignored her in a bid to reclaim the blessed darkness.
“Selah,” she called again. “It’s time to come back.”
Not yet, I thought. It was perfect here—no searing nails or sickness, just warmth and contentment.
“Selah,” she persisted. “Henry is beside himself with worry. I know you’re awake. Open your eyes before he sends for the surgeon.”
This last part stirred my attention, and I reluctantly traded the darkness for candlelight and the fire crackling in the hearth. Blinking several times, I saw that I was lying on one of the drawing room sofas. Cate knelt on the floor beside me.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now drink this.” Without waiting for my consent, she lifted a small bottle to my mouth. The liquid hit my throat, washing away the taste of bile and putting me straight into a coughing fit.
“What is that?” I spluttered. My throat burned and my insides grew even warmer.
“A restorative for the nerves. Henry said you fainted outside on the stairs.”
“Where is he?” I tried to push myself up, but Cate placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Rest a moment longer. I sent him to the kitchen to fetch a cool compress for your head. He was so agitated by your condition that he needed a task to keep him busy until you came around. I thank you for obliging and sparing me the need to invent another task once he returned.” She lifted the bottle back to eyelevel. “Would you like some more?”
“What’s in it?” I asked, my throat still burning from the first drink.
“A little skullcap and St. John’s Wort, but mostly just brandy.”
Henry came into the room and hurried to the sofa where he knelt next to Cate. “How are you feeling?” he asked.