Page 56 of The Witch's Spell
“Faolan,” I whisper, my body trembling in Alden’s arms.
Alden is saying something to me, asking if I’m all right, but I can’t focus on him right now. All I can hear is the snarling from the wolves, then the horrific sound of fangs finding flesh, claws tearing the frozen ground into icy ribbons.
And the blood. There’s already dots of it falling into the snow, turning the pure white a terrible shade of crimson. With Faolan’s and Cathal’s dark coats, I can’t tell who’s bleeding worse, but they both have red staining their fangs.
Orla steps back, staying well out of the way of the snarling mass of fur and blood and claws.
“Do something!” I scream at her, my lips salty with tears that I didn’t even realize were falling. “Stop them!”
She meets my eyes, then gives a single shake of her head.
Coward!I want to scream.
She’s the only one strong enough to intervene, the only one who can stop them from... from...
My chest hitches with a sob as my claiming mark burns again. Tears course down my cheeks, cooling my hot skin.
They’re going to kill each other, I realize.They’re not going to stop.
I don’t know if they’re even aware of the damage they’re inflicting upon each other, or if they’re so drunk on blood and rage that they can’t feel the pain.
What I do know is that red is staining the snow now. The drops have turned into streaks, into splatters and puddles that make my heart twist inside my chest.
Faolan, please.I try to push my thoughts and emotions through our bond, try to reach him, but it’s like hitting a brick wall.Faolan, stop. Please.
Maybe Orla is speaking to Cathal through their bond, trying to calm him in the same way I’m reaching out for Faolan. Even if she is, it’s not working.
Faolan and Cathal are unreachable. Their need for blood is too strong.
And it’s all my fault.
Cathal is stuck here because ofme. If I weren’t such a useless witch, I’d be able to send the fog away, would be able to fix the fairy portal and help the villagers and fix everything. But all I can do is hunch over myself, still wrapped in Alden’s arms, watching through teary eyes as my mate spills blood and bleeds in return.
“Faolan!” I scream aloud this time, hoping it’ll get through to him. “Stop! Please!”
From somewhere to my right, the wind picks up. It comes out of nowhere, a gust so powerful that it makes the pine trees bend and distracts the wolves for just long enough that they peel their fangs from each other’s flesh and hunch low, trying to resist the blast. But it lifts them both and tosses them clean across the clearing. They land hard in the snow, tens of feet apart from each other. And as soon as they’re on their feet,the wind is there again, whirling around them in vortices, preventing them from so much as taking a step toward each other.
“What the...?” Alden mumbles as I sit up straighter, using his strong arms for support.
We all look to see where the gust came from.
And Thorne is the one standing there, just around the edge of the cottage, one hand on the head of his cane, the other held aloft toward Faolan and Cathal. There’s a slight furrow in his brow, a gentle look of contemplation, as if he’s deciding on his next chess move and not using his magic to keep two snarling beasts from spilling any more blood in Brookside’s clearing.
“Is . . . Ishedoing that?” Alden whispers.
I’m almost just as surprised. Thorne showed me a hint of his magic at the library, butthis? This is nothing like I imagined. This is power the likes of which I’ve never possessed, will never possess.
He’s . . . incredible.
My lips press together when I remember that everyone is here. I know Thorne wanted to keep his identity a secret. But he’s revealed himself in front of them all—for Faolan, for Cathal, and for me. He might have just saved them both.
“Will you help me up?” I ask.
Alden quickly takes hold of my arms and eases me to my feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?” His dark eyes are concerned as they flick down to my stomach.
“I’m okay.” I pat his arm, then carefully descend the porch stairs so I canget a better look.
The vortices of wind are still spinning, holding Faolan and Cathal captive. Though it’s difficult to see through the torrent, their masses of black hair are visible being buffeted by the wind, and they’re both crouching low, claws sunk deep into the frozen earth.
