Page 36 of Fire Touched

Ella shuffles into the room and pauses when she sees us, her gaze, like always, darting to Carter. She reaches out and brushes his shoulder. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

He looks up, finally noticing me. He usually waves people off when he’s injured. Instead, he shakes his head with a grimace. ‘No. I don’t know what it is. I can hardly breathe.’ He rubs his chest. ‘Something’s…’ he gasps. ‘…wrong.’

If either of them notice the small line of blood down my chest, they don’t say anything. I try to wipe it away.

Ella steers him to a chair to sit down.

‘It started last night,’ Carter says, voice tight. ‘At first I thought it was the wine or something—I’m not used to drinking—but it’s not.’ His whole body is taut.

‘Your heart? Something… vital?’ I venture a guess. Guilt blazes in me.

Carter’s gaze meets mine. ‘Yes,’ he breathes. He hunches over. I think I might be sick.

Ella looks at a loss, but tries to rub his shoulder.

‘Where’s Moira?’ I ask, my mind frantic.

‘She was in the bathroom a minute ago,’ Ella says.

‘Send her up to Katherine. She needs her.’ With that, I turn and run, desperate to find Elga, or someone, anyone who can help correct this massive mistake I’ve made.

As though waiting for me, Elga stands poised on the threshold of her cottage, arms folded over her chest.

Chapter Nineteen

Katie

Deeper, deeper. Water parts my lips, forcing its way into my mouth, reaching down my throat to grip my organs. Embracing me far too tightly, the river swirls around me, drinking me in. Deeper, deeper. Shadows claw at the edges of my vision, my body, my lungs aching and screaming until I want to kick and cry—

I jerk awake, scrambling back in the bed, my body tangled in sheets. I gag, expecting to vomit water, but my throat is dry as sand. Sweat coats my skin, and I wipe at it roughly, the beads of moisture feels to heavy and thick.

I swallow, cringing at the liquid, my own saliva within my throat, then hack it up, coughing, choking. I clutch my throat. Too much. My hair is plastered to the back of my neck. Everything too wet.

A knock sounds on the door. ‘Katie, it’s me, Moira. Can I come in?’

Panic rising, I don’t know how to speak. I can’t move from the bed.

A pause. ‘Katie? Are you asleep?’

Help. A whimper escapes my lips as I wipe frantically at the sweat clinging to my face.

The door cracks open, familiar eyes peering in. Moira rushes inside. ‘Hey, hey. What’s the matter?’ She reaches for me. She’s as red-shaded as I am. Short, chin-length russet hair frames her face. Fire. Warmth. Safety. She scrambles up onto the bed, hands on my arms.

Slowly, my breathing evens out.

Moira softens and folds me into a hug. ‘The others sent me up here to check on you.’

My heart is pounding even as my fear seems to recede, as though it’s trying to break out of my chest.

‘Something’s wrong with Carter,’ Moira continues.

At the mention of his name, where there would usually be a protective surge, fondness… only worry stirs. My own heart and fear must be taking up too much room. ‘What?’ I manage.

Moira shakes her head, but her gaze is on my chest. She touches my hand there. I didn’t realise I’d put it over my heart. ‘His… chest. And his head. I’m not sure, though.’ Moira rubs up and down my arms, warming me. ‘It’s going to be okay. You’ve both had a rough time of it.’

She turns and does something at the bedside, and when she faces me again, she’s holding a glass of water out.

Panicked, I smack it out of her hand. The glass goes flying and shatters on the floor, the water spilling like blood on the floorboards. I reel away from her, from the water, from everything. Deeper, deeper. I cover my ears to block out the voices trying to call to me, or perhaps only the memory of them.

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