Page 37 of Captured in Love
He walks onto the bridge, crouches by its edge, and dips one half of the shield in the scalding water.
“Try not to spray Isak. It’ll hurt him worse,” Nora calls.
Nora’s hands flutter nervously at her sides, so I take them and squeeze her fingers.
“I don’t think it matters at this point, babe,” I say quietly. “He’s…”
She glowers up at me. “Don’t you dare say it.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
If she wants to pretend that the man will make it for a while longer, I won’t take that from her. I’m not exactly sure what she feels for him, but I do know it will hit her hard when he succumbs to his injuries.
I motion at Raphaël, then pull Nora way back from the bridge. There’s no way we can catch the Icelander now—anyone standing beside him would get splashed with boiling water.
Raphaël takes a deep breath, stabs the shield down, and flicks water up at the spell. It doesn’t break immediately, but some of the magic disintegrates and unravels.
The witch who created it definitely knew about that beautifully wrought ancient Egyptian spell, and I wonder whether we’ve found the Ballendial coven’s weakness after all. If we hadn’t come straight from Egypt to Iceland, I might not have noticed the similarities. Maybe they counted on people going to different locations, but there’s definitely a pattern here we might be able to exploit in the future.
The spell crumbles at Raphaël’s third attempt, enough of the glowing words washing off to destroy its integrity.
And the large man caught inside the web tumbles to the ground.
Thirteen
Nora
Isak landson the rough stone bridge with a sickening smack.
His limbs flail, a hoarse moan slips from his mouth, and then he lies still.
So fucking still.
I lunge forward, ignoring Levi’s attempt to pull me back. I crash on my knees beside Isak and stare down at his ruined body.
I have no idea where to start. Even touching him would bring him immeasurable pain, I’m certain of it. But I have to dosomething.
Even if it’s just to ease his pain until he…
My throat closes up, and panic threatens to take over. I swallow a sob and call up the dregs of my magic, creating the same spell as before. I need him to forget about the torture, or else his mind might shut itself off permanently.
A ball of purple magic grows between my palms. I charge it as best I can, then pinch it apart with my fingers, creating two smaller glowing orbs. I carefully lean over Isak and press the magic against his temples.
His eyes fly open, the pale blue color of his irises shocking against his reddened, charred skin. He swallows convulsively then tries to speak but succeeds only in a hoarse groan.
“Shh,” I whisper, “let me in.”
He closes his eyes again, and suddenly I’m inside his head. And all I see is pain. Throbbing, spiking, excruciating pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt assaults my senses, and I cry out, nearly dropping the hold on my magic.
“Nora!”
Levi is beside me, and he grips my hand, wordlessly offering up his magic. But I don’t take it, I don’t invite him into my spell. Isak will need his healing power, as much of it as Levi can give. Most of all, I don’t want to inflict this kind of torture on him as well.
Levi curses as he realizes I won’t take his magic, then sets to work with a grim twist of his lips. I can’t focus on what he’s doing, exactly, but ever so slowly, Isak’s face loses some of its livid color. His breaths come a little easier, no longer rattling in his chest.
Then Levi slumps to the side, barely catching himself before he faceplants on the stone floor. “I’m dry,” he gasps. “That’s all I can do for him.”
I want to scream at him that it’s not enough, that Isak is still dying, but it’s not his fault. None of this is Levi’s fault, or Isak’s, or mine, and the anger I felt toward the Ballendial witches now burns hotter, morphing into hate.
