Jessica Andersen - Spellfire

Already, he was looking at her a little sideways, like he wanted to quiz her, but was afraid to. Instead, he took a big step back, making room for her. “Go ahead.”

She tried for a smile. “It’s not FDA approved.”

“This does not surprise me.” He held her eyes, though she wasn’t sure what he saw, or what he was thinking. He inhaled like he was going to say something more, but then waved her forward. “Do it. I trust you not to hurt her.”

“I don’t want to.” But she whispered an inner prayer as she sat and leaned over the tiny form. Please, gods, let your messenger awaken safely.

Holding her breath, she unstoppered the small bottle and squirted a healthy dose into Rosa’s mouth, then used a finger to close her jaw and tip her head back. “Come on, sweetie. Swallow.”

Nothing happened. And for a good two minutes, nothing kept happening, leaving Anna sitting there, staring at Rosa, all too aware of the flop sweats starting on her palms and the man standing behind her, waiting for a miracle.

Frustration welled. Come on, come on. Please.

And, suddenly, it felt way too much like all the times she’d tried to call on her itza’at’s magic. Back then, it had been a blessing in disguise that she’d never been able to make her own magic work properly—that was what had let the true gods contact her, after all. Now, though . . . there was no blessing here, no upside. This had to work, she had to make it work.

Wake up, damn it!

Sweat prickled down her spine as she filled another stopper. Then she tugged at her chain and brought out the yellow quartz skull, which felt heavy as it swung free, glinting in the light.

“What is . . .” David trailed off, exhaling. “Never mind. Sorry. Keep going.”

He moved, but she wasn’t sure if he was leaning closer or edging away, and she was afraid to look, didn’t want to know which it was. Not when she would need all her concentration and confidence to pull this off. Already, she could feel the conjunction moving on, the magic starting to fade.

“Fuck it,” she said under her breath, and went for her worn pocketknife. She heard his startled oath when she carved sharp slices across her palm scars on both sides, but she ignored it, ignored him, and focused on the child lying there, motionless. Helpless. She’s there because of me. I can get her back. “Pasaj och.”

The magic came at her call, flaring through her veins and lighting the air red and gold. She hoped to hell he couldn’t see the glimmer—most humans couldn’t. But she couldn’t turn back now. Come on, come on.

The power was sluggish, thick and syrupy, but it was there. More, it reached out to wrap around the dropper containing Sasha’s potion, which started to throb with a low yellow glow, just as it had when the healer had first mixed it together.

“Please gods,” Anna whispered. And dripped it slowly into Rosa’s mouth.

This time, incredibly, something started happening. First the yellow glow spread to the little girl’s face, which flushed and pinkened, looking healthier than it had since the child’s arrival. Then it moved down, flowing through Rosa, warming her. Her breathing changed, deepening and speeding up, and Anna’s pulse jumped in response. “That’s it. Come on back. You can do it.”

“Jesus Christ,” David muttered. She thought he might even have crossed himself.

Her stomach hollowed out, but she couldn’t worry about him right now; she had to focus. “Wake up, sweetie. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

The girl stirred and straightened beneath the blanket, working her feet for a moment to kick free. Then she sighed, rubbed her cheek against the pillow, and opened her eyes.

Holy gods. Anna stared, transfixed, as Rosa blinked up at her, puzzled. Then she focused, and there was acceptance in her eyes, not fear. “I know you,” she said drowsily in Spanish. “You’re the lady who sat with me at night and told me stories.”

Anna’s breath left her in a soft whoosh. “You heard me,” she said in the same language.

“Mostly just you and the nice doctor.” She didn’t seem to see David in the background. “And the cat-woman. But she wasn’t really here, was she?”

“Only in your dreams.” Anna paused, wondering how much to say, and how. Not too much, she decided, as the little girl looked like she was already fading. “You’ve been sick, but you’re going to be okay now.”

“I know. The cat-lady told me. She said . . . she said . . .” The child’s eyelids fluttered and eased shut. But this time her sleep was a more natural one, coming from her body issuing a shutdown command so it could have time to heal the physical damage.

The emotional damage would take longer, Anna knew. Even the best support system in the world couldn’t undo the horrific loss of her entire family, or the trauma of watching it happen. Been there, done that. She had fought through it, though, and could help Rosa do the same, and do it better than she had. But although she could do that alone, could do all of it alone . . . she didn’t want to, damn it.

And she couldn’t put off looking up at him any longer.

She braced herself to see David all the way across the room, plastered to the back wall, staring at her like she was off her fucking rocker—or, worse, something he should be afraid of. Gods knew that most human scientists didn’t like the unknown.

Already planning on hitting him with a sleep spell, bringing Rabbit back to do some mental remediation, and never seeing her doomsday crush ever again, she turned—

And found him very close, practically breathing over her shoulder, his eyes full of awe, excitement and wonder. When their eyes met, his lips turned up in a perfectly approving smile. “You did it,” he said softly. “You . . . I don’t know what you just did, but you did it.”

“I want her,” she said in English. All the other things she’d planned to say suddenly backed up in her lungs, trapped there by the look in his eyes and the knowledge that this moment, here and now, was as important to her as facing off opposite her parents’ spirits and sending them to the sky. That had brought the past full circle. Now she wanted to start the future of her choosing. “If her family won’t take her back—”

“They won’t. Her uncle signed her over when she first came in.”

“Then I want her. I can provide for her, love her. I know what it’s like to lose both parents the way she did, and I can help her through it.” She looked down at her wrists, with their crisscross scars and the line of tattoos, saw the gleam of yellow as the crystal skull swung into view, and wondered just how crazy this all sounded to him, how crazy she looked right now. “I know I may not seem like the stablest bet right now from your perspective, but I promise you—”

“Stop,” he said. “Anna, stop. Christ, you don’t need to sell me. I’ve seen you with her. I’ve seen . . . well, what I’ve seen. Anyway. I can pull some strings, get the paperwork expedited.” He hesitated, searching her eyes. “Though I get the feeling you could handle that on your own, too.” And now he really did take a big step back.

She reached out to him. “David. Don’t.”

“I won’t. I don’t mean to. But . . . Christ, Anna. That was . . . it was . . .”

“An herbal remedy with a little bit of faith-based healing thrown in for good measure. It was the tonic that did the trick. The prayer just made me feel better.” She let her hand drift back to her side, unclaimed. “Don’t,” she said again, softer this time. Don’t look at me like you’re debating between a psych consult and an exorcism. “It wasn’t anything weird. I’m just me.”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything, are you?” But his eyes were regaining some of the wonder she’d seen in them earlier.