“Shut up! Who are you to talk to me about him? Some doxy he met a few weeks ago. He was meant for better things. He sacrificed himself for you.”
Kate’s eyes welled at the kernel of truth in his words, but she shook her head. She wanted this to be Nick’s fault, someone’s fault. She wanted to hurt him even though she could see the pain on his face and the way his hand trembled over Simon’s arm. “He would have done no less for any one of us. That’s who he is. But where were you when he needed you? What kind of friend are you?”
“The kind he needs. Give him to me, damn you, and stand back.” Nick grabbed Simon’s body by the shoulders and seemed shocked by how limp it was. He gave Kate a vicious stare. “Do you want to see him again? Then get back! You can’t help him now. None of you. But I can.”
Malcolm settled Kate to her feet, and walked the stunned alchemist away from Simon. Penny waited, crouching by the door. Hogarth stood like a statue, still carrying Imogen.
Nick sat cross-legged on the floor, with Simon’s head resting in his lap. He took several deep breaths and dug his fingers into Simon’s chest. He began to mutter unintelligible words, then repeated them, then again. The sounds grew into a chant. It was more guttural and harsh than the spells whispered by Simon. There was anger and grime in it. Putrid green wisps swirled around both men, living and dead, old eldritch power that made Kate feel ill. It was the same dread power that she had felt Nick use at the Gillingham party so long ago, only more sickening than before.
Then Kate felt a warm breeze ruffle her hair. It caught her skirt and whipped Malcolm’s greatcoat. The wind grew stronger and hotter like it was blasting off a desert. She put a hand above her eyes as if she sensed blowing sand scraping across her face.
Small sparks of lightning circled Nick’s body, occasionally shooting out with sharp, cracking arcs. The glow created a halo around him. He slowly bent over and pressed his forehead to Simon’s. He began to shake. The lightning traveled from Nick’s fingers across Simon’s torn chest. Odd, spidery lightning shapes walked their way down Simon’s form.
Then Nick threw his head back and a wrenching howl tore from his throat. It looked as if his hands plunged deep into Simon’s chest and Simon appeared to be made of nothing more than light. Nick’s scream went silent. His head was still up and his mouth gaped wide.
The lightning vanished and Nick fell over on his side.
Kate ran to Nick, but when she touched him, he was white-hot. She shouted and pulled her hand back, confused, watching. Her gaze drifted to Simon. His torn flesh was whole. To her shock, he moved! His name fell from her lips.
Simon’s eyes cracked open and he saw Kate’s stunned face. He raised a hand and wiped his forehead. “Oh, hello, Kate. Bit warm. Could you open a window, please?”
She gasped and fell at his side. The heat pouring off Nick was so enormous that she grabbed Simon and pulled him off his friend’s legs. His head bumped the stone floor and he exclaimed in pain. She pulled him up and embraced him. Simon pressed a comforting hand against her back.
“This is rather nice,” he murmured.
“Simon?” came Nick’s whisper. “Is that you, old boy?”
Simon stiffened at the sight of his crumpled friend with an exclamation of alarm. With Kate still supporting him, he reached for the prone man. Despite the searing heat, he grasped Nick’s hand. “Are you all right, Nick? What have you done?”
The older magician smiled and lowered his head to rest on the floor. “We’re all square now.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Simon pulled open the door of the Devil’s Loom and welcomed the rush of warmth. His bones ached from the cold English air even though it had been a week since the fight at Bedlam. His strength had returned, but there was a gnawing sense of vulnerability inside him. Voices greeted him happily. He had been conspicuously absent from his regular bench over the last week or so. All was well with the crowd, however, when he entered.
“Simon!” A hefty barmaid seized his arm with a great smile on her lips. “How are you, love? We were wondering where you’d gotten to.”
“Busy, Rebecca. Just busy.”
“I thought as much.” She escorted him to the bar past cheerful waves and claps on the back. “Some felt you had to abandon us lot if you were to keep receiving your invitations from viscounts and such.”
“Hardly. I’d abandon the viscounts first.”
“I knew you would, dear.” Rebecca handed him a pint. “Other wags said you were on the run from a jealous husband.”
Simon relished the common feel of the glass in his hand. “That’s impossible because I’m saving myself for you.”
“Wait no longer then!” She slapped her hand on the bar and shouted to the barman. “I quit!”
He rolled his eyes at her and gave Simon a pleasant nod as he headed to the front.
Simon laughed. “Have you seen Nick?”