15 | A Killing Grace

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Each mile laid between the Absolian and us was a victory. 

His influence was stripped from my being one layer at a time, until I was raw and vulnerable from lack of its inexorable pressure. I felt his gaze still, the weight of those cold, wintry eyes, and knew I'd escaped desolation by a meager margin. If the witch hadn't listened to me, if she'd tried to defend us from the mages with her magic, we would have been pulverized right alongside them.

I shouldn't have been able to sense Aurelius with such keen awareness, nor should I be able to feel the crackling pulse emanating from the mage's incantation. Humans couldn't sense magic, so my perception of it either suggested prior knowledge of its existence left remnant sensitivity on a soul, or I wasn't entirely human. I wasn't sure which option was more alarming, but I was certain I didn't have the luxury of thinking it over. Not with that winged cretin flying around.

Brother. I wondered if Aurelius cared. I wondered if I cared. The Absolian and I existed on opposite ends of the Rending, which bode ill for our previous association, seeing as both Sethan and I had been thrown from Absolia while Aurelius hadn't. I'd never know what'd truly happened in that far-flung realm, and trying to question it was foolhardy. 

Kin or no, an Absolian was an Absolian. Absolians cared for nothing but their own ambitions and the will of their High King. 

Saule coughed and choked on her own breath. She still clutched her arm against her chest, the static charge of red lightning crackling from her shoulder to her elbow, though the wound itself was small and had begun to clot. Her face gleamed with perspiration. 

"What, by the Pit, is wrong with you?" I barked, alarmed by her pallor. I didn't need a dead witch in the car. Getting across the country was challenging enough without transporting a woman's corpse.

"Twitch-finger," she gasped.

"What?" 

"Twitch-finger spell of electric b-binding." She pulled her hand from her injured limb, and I noted how the charge leapt between her bare palm and the site of impact, attempting to bring it back down against her body. The electricity of the mage's spell filled the car and had the hair on my arms standing on end. 

"When does it fade?" I asked, wary of the lightning and its random jumps. Was it contagious? If we were both paralyzed, I'd be utterly screwed. 

"No," the witch managed to grate through clenched teeth. "No, it won't fade. I need to get to an alchemist."

"Why?" 

"She'll be able to break the spell." 

The wind roared in my ears, smelling of wet earth and watered sage. We were outside Verweald's limits now, dipping into the county of Los Angeles. The trees were green and grew tall around the freeway, but the rocky hills were brown, only dusted with the vaguest touch of life after such a prolonged drought. The grey haze of smog crawled across the sky, emanating from the city farther to the south.

"I know of a coven that probably escaped the mages." I noted how Saule's voice hitched on the word probably. I took that to mean she wasn't sure. "We can go there—."

"We're going to Itheria," I stated, hands tightening on the wheel again. "We're not stopping."

"But I-I have to get to an alchemist!"

"That's not my problem." I had to get to Itheria. I couldn't afford distractions and wouldn't suffer detours. The witch would have to manage until we were forced to rest.

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