Page 40 of Mud

Jam was on his feet, and Jim was on his way to me, when he was stopped by Michael’s sword.

Michael put his katana in front of Jim’s chest to stop him from coming closer to me.

“That’s far enough,” he told him, and Jim looked at him like he’d lost his mind—probably because he had.

“Michael, I’m bleeding,” I said through gritted teeth, and the pain was beginning to become unbearable.

Meanwhile, Erid was just standing there, right there by the body of the last catfairie she killed. She was most definitely not planning to come closer, even though she was looking at me. She couldseeme bleeding.

Fuck, the pain. It was incredible, and I was still bleeding. Iridians healed as fast as the next magical creature, but even we needed assistance when our skin was cut open.

“What the hell are you doing, Michael? She’s bleeding,” said Jam, holding onto his own ribs, though his jacket was unbroken, and he wasn’t bleeding from anywhere that I could see.

“We can’t help her,” said Michael, and my eyes closed as I mouthed the words of a healing spell. They worked just fine, and Redfire magic was already slipping out of my bloody fingers, and onto the wound over which my hand was resting.

“What do you mean, we can’t help her—we can. It’s justa wound,” Jim said, trying to push Michael’s katana away, but Michael wouldn’t budge.

“No, boys,” he said, slowly turning to face me. “Wecan’thelp Rosabel today.”

“What the hell?” said one or the other?

“What the hell are you saying, man? She’s bleeding—just let us go.”

“Erid, go help her!”

“Why are you standing there—move!”

“This is fucked up! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

On and on they went while my skin knitted back together. It had been less deep than I’d feared, that wound, and I was no longer bleeding, and the sensation was coming back to my legs.

My magic—my biggest advantage. Another, longer more complicated spell, and I’d be as good as new.

With some rest and good food, of course.

Sadly, I didn’t think there was time for either of those at the moment. Because Michael was slowly coming toward me with his katana and wand in hand, blood-splattered and still breathing a bit heavily from the fight, while Erid had gone to stand near the twins, but not to talk to them or anything. Just to make sure they didn’t come closer.

Then Michael squatted in front of me, and all my focus went to my face—remain neutral. He didn’t need to know that I could breathe easier now, that I felt my legs and I was sure they could carry me. He didn’t need to know the spell that was at the tip of my tongue—the strongest shield I knew. I was no Greenfire, but I could fire up a shield like the best of them. At least for a little while.

And a little while was all I was going to need, considering the situation I’d found myself in.Calm. Cool. Just likethe ocean. You understand what’s happening first, and you choose your response accordingly—that’s what David Hill told me before he sent me to the Iridian school in Columbia that day.

“I’m sorry, Rora,” Michael said. “I really wish I didn’t have to do this.”

He looked down at my wound that I was deliberately hiding with my hands, now that my magic was gone. Iridians could never be sneaky with spells—you could see the magic very clearly before it did what it was ordered to do.

Except Blackfires in the dark, but even then you could tell by the way the magic shaped itself like flames.

“So, don’t,” I said, and I made an effort to sound in pain, though I wasn’t. Not anymore, and I had no idea if it was the adrenaline or the anticipation or the fear—or just the healing spell—but all I felt was a light throbbing in my gut that I could easily ignore. “What…whatever it is you’re doing, Michael, don’t do it.”

Because it was clear that Erid wasn’t going to heal me. It was clear that she and Michael wouldn’t let the twins even come close to me—that’s all I was able to understand right now.

“See, I can’t justnotdo it,” Michael said, dragging the edge of his katana blade over the pale skin of the catfairie I’d killed, the body between my feet and his. “I have orders, Rora. I’m really sorry.”

And he stood up.

My heart fell all the way to my heels.

“Orders from whom?” I asked through gritted teeth because this could be the most absurd thing I’d heard all year—even after seeing that video of Taland in prison. It would have beenfunny,even, if the look in Michael’s eyeshadn’t said that he was dead serious, and if Erid hadn’t looked at me like she wanted to set something on fire.

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