As simple as it was in my head, this would not be something she found easy to deal with. It could be a very long time before she came close to recovering from this loss.
“May I carry her inside? The cold cannot be good for her.” I unclipped the necklace holding the medallions. They were duller than they’d been before, and the feeling of life was gone. Michelle could verify, but I was sure they had spent their power and would be nothing but metal for many years. I slid them in my pocket, looked at Nancy, and raised an eyebrow.
Nancy nodded.
I carefully lifted Michelle into my arms, ignoring my own aches and pains. Walking to the lodge, I whispered to her, “I love you. I want to marry you and spend a lifetime together.”
Hopefully she would still want the same thing, though there was a chance this injury would change her. Even if she awakened the same person, she would need time to adjust.
The lodge must have been feeling helpful because the door opened as I approached. The door to her apartment did the same, and I whispered my thanks. As I passed between the stone lions guarding her bedroom door, I told them they had the night off. There would be a great many people around, all of whom were trusted. They were not pleased but accepted the order.
After laying her on the bed, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you. I will never stop loving you.”
Michelle appeared even more fragile surrounded by the mint-green sheets, which turned her skin a rather sickly shade. Her pulse was still slow but stronger. She would recover. I had to believe she would recover.
I heard the apartment door open and close. “I will return.” I pressed one more kiss to her forehead before going to the main area of the apartment.
Greg and Nancy went to check on Michelle before returning to the living room and sitting on the sofa. Greg tiredly waved me over.
Considering how filthy I was from the fight in the woods, I was not willing to soil any of the chairs, so I sat cross-legged on the floor.
Greg rubbed his temples. “Ethel has a medical witch on the way. I’m told if there’s any hope, this person will be the one to help us. A few healers will be arriving too. All of us are useless for a couple of days.”
“The specialist will say the same thing.” Nancy cut in. “Michelle won’t be able to use magic again.” It was the same dead voice she had used last time, as if she could not risk feeling because the emotions would consume her.
Greg simply sighed.
Minutes passed. Nancy was either asleep or meditating. I sat there, wishing I knew what to say. There were elves who were born without the abilities I had, and others who, for some reason or another, lost their powers, but we were different from witches. Our identity was elf first, a creature of nature, and every other aspect of our abilities was secondary. Witches, for the most part, were their magic.
“Elron.” Greg’s voice was filled with worry. “What will you do if Michelle is, well, not the witch she was when you met?”
My eyes narrowed. “Say what you mean.”
“Well”—he sucked in a breath—“will you leave her?”
I straightened my shoulders and looked at him coldly. “I love Michelle because of who she is, not due to her abilities as a witch. Should she be powerless, my plans remain the same. I wish to marry her and spend the rest of our lives together.”
“You mean her life. You’ll be here long after she’s gone.” Greg watched me.
“If you are implying that I do not love her or that I would stay with her out of duty, you are wrong.” Blood thundered through my veins. All this time I had thought he was, if not approving of our relationship, at least accepting.
He leaned forward. “What kind of life will the two of you have together? You are an elf who will live more than a millennium after she is gone. She’s a witch who will likely be powerless because my daughter is good person who wanted to save everyone. You aren’t the same species or age. You won’t be able to have children. What life is that for my daughter?”
I inhaled slowly. My anger would not help this situation. Greg was a father expressing a father’s concerns. “She will have a good life. One where she is loved, cherished, and able to follow her own passions, knowing I will be there to support her. I would think any father would rather their child had those things than marry in their own species.”
Greg settled back into his chair. “You’ll do, elf. You’ll do.”
“It warms my heart to have your approval.”
Greg raised an eyebrow at my tone but did not comment.
The difference in our life spans, which had not been a consideration when we started dating, was an aspect of our relationship that would be an issue not only now but in the future. I did not know of a way to bridge that gap, and I hoped our love for one another would be enough, though I knew that would leave me watching my wife die and facing the remaining years of my life alone.
The door opened, pulling me out of my thoughts. Ethel limped in, supported by a witch. Behind her was Dr. Stiles, a medical witch who had examined Michelle in the past and I presumed was here to see if there was cause for hope or simply mourning and acceptance.
“In there.” Ethel pointed a gnarled fingered at the bedroom.
Dr. Stiles nodded and headed in.
I started to get up, as did Greg.
“Sit down.” Ethel’s voice did not have its usual edge, but the order was clear. “It will be easier for her to examine Michelle without the two of you hovering and asking questions every couple of seconds.”
I lowered myself back to the floor.
Ethel sank into a chair and then shooed her helper away. “How is she?”
“Asleep,” I answered. The plants on her nightstand would have told me if she had awakened.
“Has she said anything yet?”
“No. She held it together until we were sure the spell had worked, and then she simply collapsed.” Greg answered that one.
“She knew what she was doing,” Nancy added, her eyes still closed. “I warned her, and she told me she couldn’t back down. She had to finish it.”
Ethel sighed. “I should’ve—”
“Done what exactly?” Greg demanded. “We all knew the risks. She had to hold the energy, transform, and guide the spells. It was too much.”
“Without my help, she wouldn’t have been able to attempt the spell at all,” Ethel shot back. “Then instead of us sitting here, bickering about how we could have prevented this, we’d be sitting here celebrating the death of another demon.”
“You are wrong.” Everyone turned to look at me. “Think about Michelle. Had you not helped her, she simply would have found another way to accomplish the same thing. We helped her in the most controlled way possible.”
In the quiet moment while everyone was gathering their thoughts, Dr. Stiles returned. The argument was abandoned as everyone focused on her.
She shook her head. “That part of her mind—it’s gone, as if it was melted away. I’m sorry. No one can heal her.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The important thing now was helping her through this transition. No matter how long it took, I would be there by her side. She was everything to me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The hours that followed were a blur of activity. Nancy and Greg were examined, their wounds healed, and they went to another apartment to clean up. Several medical witches tended Michelle, healing the wounds that could be healed, cleaning her body, clothing her and tucking her into bed.
One witch or another healed my wounds, then sent me back to my apartment to clean up. When I returned, Rodriguez and Wells had come to see Michelle.
“How is she?” Wells asked.
I hesitated, unsure what Michelle would want the police to know. If her injuries were as severe as Dr. Stiles believed, her business was over. “Hurt, badly. She will live, but the recovery is uncertain.”
He nodded. “Both Hayatos are dead. We have the documentation we need, and the bodies of the
man who attacked you in the woods and a woman who attacked Michelle. We’ll research their connection to Hayato.” He pressed his lips together and sighed. “Westmoreland’s funeral is in two days. She told me she would be there, but we’ll all understand if…”
“That is for her to decide when she wakes.” I doubted she would be awake, or in any condition to attend, but that was tomorrow’s problem.
“Tell her we miss her. She needs to get well and come back to work,” Rodriguez added.
“I will pass that along.” Though perhaps not now. I would not rip open a wound that had not healed. After a few more pleasantries, the two men left.
From then on, I stayed by Michelle, watching her breathe, checking her pulse. No one was sure how long it would be before she woke. From what they said, after a magical exertion witches usually had to regenerate some amount of magic before they would awaken. Since Michelle could not manipulate or store magic anymore, they were unsure what to expect.
From beside her bed, I heard the rest of the news. Our side had sustained injuries. Julius had lost a leg. It was an unfortunate, but not a life-ending injury. A few of the wolves had been gravely injured, but the witches were doing everything they could to save them. Numerous witches across the country would be recovering from this effort for days or weeks.
Ethel frequently checked in on Michelle. On one visit she cried. Before she left, she said, “She was the right person to be the next premier. She doesn’t need much magic for the position, but she needs some.” She brushed away her tears. “She understood what witches in this country need to become, and she was strong enough to push them there. Whoever takes her place will be a lesser choice, and we’ll all suffer for it.”
She left before I could ask if she cared at all how the injury would change Michelle’s life. In truth, I knew the answer. Ethel could admit to mourning the loss of a successor. She could not admit to mourning for Michelle.
I sat by her bed as the minutes turned into hours. Her face was pale, so pale that if I were unable to hear the steady beating of her heart, feel her pulse against my fingers, and see her chest rise and fall, I would fear her dead. As it was, I simply feared for her. Whilst I could picture the two of us together, our times devoid of magic, I could not picture her without magic.
Michelle, the witch born with the mark of the Ieldra. She had lived up to that symbol, not only by killing the demons but by simply being herself—though the witches would think this spell meant she had fulfilled the future that mark had promised. Michelle had been exceptionally powerful and early in gaining that power. She had built a business around being a capable witch. This was not a woman who would find the transition easy.
In the dawn light, when the lodge was quiet and we were alone, I prayed for a miracle. Not for my sake, but for hers. Michelle could surprise me and adjust quickly, but I knew her, and this was a devastating thing to overcome.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Elron?” It was barely a whisper. “Elron?”
I opened my eyes. How I had managed to fall asleep at a time like this was beyond me. Blinking, I focused on Michelle. She was still in place, but there was slightly more color in her cheeks. She was looking up at me, brows furrowed.
“Michelle, you’re awake.” A knot of fear in my gut released.
She nodded slowly. “But my head hurts.” She rubbed her temple. “I don’t feel good.”
My eyes darted to the door before returning to Michelle. “If I could leave for a moment, I will return with someone who can help you.”
She grabbed my hand. “Don’t go.”
I settled into the chair, willing to do anything to comfort her. “I am here.”
Michelle’s hand tightened over mine. “I was so worried about you. I was afraid I would lose you. Even though I wanted to help you, I had to stand there and do my part. It was the worst feeling.” Tears escaped her eyes.
“Shh.” I gently brushed away her tears. “I am here. You did the right thing. We had different tasks, and we each completed our own. That is how partnerships work.”
She smiled faintly, then grimaced. “The pain. My head.” She uncovered her arm and pressed her fingers to her temple. “What happened? I can’t remember the end.”
“You did it,” I told her gently, my heart breaking for what was to come. “You killed Hayato, and the witches believe you killed the rest of the demons as well.”
“Good.” She rubbed her head again. “It really hurts. Why does it hurt?”
I slowly inhaled, trying to gather the courage to tell her about her injury. Twice the words died on my lips. She was everything to me, and as soon as I said those words, I knew that could change. Of course, if I did not say them, someone else would, and she had asked me.
“Michelle, you were hurt. The part of you that can manipulate magic was damaged.” I watched her jaw drop and her eyes fill with horror, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease the hurt. “You may not be able to do magic again.”
She blinked, squeezed her eyes shut, and long seconds passed. Tears leaked out of her eyes. Nearly a minute later she gasped, her eyes flew open, and a hair-raising sob came from deep in her chest. “I can’t touch it. I can’t feel the magic.”
The door to her room banged open, but Michelle did not react. She lay in the bed, tears streaming down her face, deep guttural sobs filling the room. I wanted to gather her up, hold her close, and tell her this would pass, that she would feel whole again. Instead, I watched, because there were no words I could offer.
Across the bed Dr. Stiles and Marti, Michelle’s grandmother and Greg’s mother, watched her.
Dr. Stiles sighed. “You told her?”
I nodded.
“Just as well.” Her expression was sympathetic, but her voice businesslike. “I’ve called everyone who might be able to help. I’ve called the people they suggested. If anyone knows how to fix her, they are hiding under a rock in the Arctic.”
“How do I help her?” The pain emanating from her was not something I could ignore.
“Time.”
“I need a better answer.” Looking at my betrothed, I did not see how time would be enough.
Dr. Stiles simply shook her head.
“You love her.” Marti met my gaze. “You love her like you have never loved another. Every day you help her build a life where what she lost doesn’t matter. And when she cries, when life is too much, you hold her and you guard her until she can fight for herself again.”
“I will.” When I said those words, they were a vow, one I would never break
Marti’s eyes did not leave mine. “Occasionally my son is an idiot. Prove me right. Prove to him you are what I believe, what Michelle believes, you can be.”
Marti often saw what others ignored. She knew Michelle was usually the steady one of the two of us. However, she saw past that, to the strength of my determination. I did not wear it as boldly as Michelle did hers, but it was there. I would do anything to help Michelle.
I nodded.
Her eyes darted back to Michelle, and mine followed. The pain in her cries, the strength of her sorrow, that was not meant for one person to bear. I sat on the bed and gathered her in my arms until she was cradled against me. For a moment she held herself away from me, but then she collapsed against my chest. Little by little her tears soaked through my shirt.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next few days were far from pretty. Michelle cried. She lapsed into silences that no question would break. She ate very little. I held her when she let me. I watched her when she wanted space.
Her family spent time with her, but they had no better luck than I. If anything, she was even more withdrawn when they were around. It did not escape their notice, and they spent less time attempting to interact with her, more time simply watching. Even Ty’s return did nothing to lift her spirits, though I reassured him that we were all glad to have him back and explained that Michelle had been hurt.
I was never sure if it was Land
a or the lodge, though she swore the lodge had acted on its own, who reshaped the main window in her living room and set a big cushy chair where the sun would shine on it most of the day. It was Michelle’s favorite spot, and when nothing else would get her attention, an offer to sit in the chair would. Ty could often be found in the garden, looking at the window, hoping Michelle would visit him.
We did not go to Patrick Westmoreland’s funeral. Truth be told, I did not think she heard me when I explained what was happening and that it would bring comfort to people if she were in attendance. I doubted she heard most of what I said, but I commented on little things, like the sun, or the wind dancing through the leaves, or even the tea. I longed for the moments when she would speak. I longed for even a whisper.
Michelle was one of the strongest people I had ever met, but this was too much for her. Her entire world had changed, and nothing I did eased that burden. Her apartment, her mind, her entire life, was a constant reminder of what had been and what would never be again. Perhaps I should have taken her away so she could heal in a place with fewer reminders, but as she would say, hindsight was twenty-twenty.
I knelt by her chair. “Michelle?”
As usual, she did not answer.
“I must visit the bathroom. I’ll be back in a moment. Will you be all right while I am absent?”
Still nothing.
I sighed and hurried out. I was washing my hands when I heard a soft cry followed by a thud. I sprinted out of the bathroom with the water still running, through her bedroom, and into the living room.
Michelle was curled up on the floor. A big knife was next to her. Blood was flowing out of her arms.
Dropping to my knees I pressed my hands over her forearms.
“Get a healer here now,” I yelled at the lodge.
Sighting my grip on her arms, I screamed. “I will not lose you! Heal!” Heal the veins and arteries. Make them like new.
The flow of blood slowed but did not stop.
A Witch’s Demons (Witch's Path Series: Book 6) Page 21
