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Blood was rushing through her splayed fingers. It soaked his entire front. His breathing was shallow and ragged. “Ren. Please. Con… Connery’s binding. I have that one. From anatomy class.”
His words set a missing piece of the puzzle down in front of her. Ideas formed around that thought. “No. Not Connery’s binding. I need to use Ockley’s cleansing spell first. Reduces infections. You… you probably have internal lacerations, so Connery’s binding would just seal you up without healing what’s bleeding inside. I… I need a sensory spell to find the torn tissue, then Hagland’s quickening charm to get it regenerating. And then I’d use Connery’s binding to close it all.…”
Theo’s blood kept coloring the bridge beneath them. “All right. Do that, then. Do that.”
Ren set to work. It was hard to maintain her composure, but she set aside the panic and fear that she could feel pulsing out from Theo—crossing their link—and focused instead on hunting for the right spells in his arsenal. She quietly found each one in the mental files, brought them to the forefront of her thoughts, and began casting. Theo was struggling to keep his eyes focused on her.
“Stay with me,” she hissed. “Stay with me, Theo.”
Ren knew it was not the last time that she would feel the weight of Cora’s absence. Her own anatomical magic lacked nuance and skill. When Cora had used these spells, she had done so with all the touch and grace of an artist. Ren’s attempts were elementary by comparison. Someone who knew the colors but not how to hold the brush or where to paint them. Her cleansing spell flashed out with such force that it briefly shook Theo’s entire body. A large enough jolt that his teeth clacked together. He let loose another miserable groan.
“Sorry… sorry. Just stay with me, Theo.”
She pressed on, knowing it would only get worse. The sensory magic was less invasive, but her first attempt at the spell yielded nothing. Take a deep breath, she coached herself. Try again. The second effort worked. The damaged tissue drew the magic’s attention. Her spell tethered to those locations and she could feel them like invisible threads, stretching from her fingertips to the places inside of him that had been damaged.
“Now Hagland’s quickening…”
Again her spell rushed forward with too much strength. Theo actually cried out, and she had to pin his good shoulder down with a knee to keep him from messing up the magic. He let out a guttural scream. She knew that his tissue was knitting together in quick and painful bursts. An accelerated healing that would feel a lot like someone’s fingers were jammed inside his abdomen.
Theo breathed sharply in, and then his body went still. Too still. Ren saw that he was almost translucent. Halfway to becoming a ghost. “No. Hold on, Theo.”
Her stitching was piss poor, but the wounds closed. The tissue within was starting to regenerate. It took staggering to her feet to realize just how much blood Theo had lost. Seeing all of it slicking the wooden panels of the bridge, a new panic seized Ren. What if she’d been too slow? What if he actually died? Her eyes flicked back to the way candle.
The timing was nearly flawless. She could hear the sound of barking in the distance. Della and her crew were too late. It took grunting effort, but she sat Theo up and dragged him closer to the candle. His eyes blinked open once, only to close again. His lips were turning blue.
“Don’t die, Theo. Please don’t die.”
It took all her effort to prop him up and position herself so she was sitting behind him. She let his head settle into the nest of her shoulder, reaching around to hold his gut wound with gentle pressure. Blood matted the front of his shirt. There was still one piece of magic to get right.
Ren reached into her pocket for the blades of grass. She set one of the blades over the flickering flame of the candle. It started to burn and smoke. The second blade was tucked in the very center of her palm. Ren held the image of Balmerick firmly in her mind.
Theo had stopped moving. Ren tightened her grip protectively around him. There was more barking. Closer and closer. Figures were moving up the road that led to the bridge. Ren sat there patiently until the magic of the waxways snatched them both.
41
The entire lower quad heard Ren’s cries for help.
It was still break. The campus was mostly empty, but a few professors and doctoral students heard the noise and came thundering down the marble steps of nearby buildings. A search party had gone out for Theo Brood and Clyde Winters several days ago. It had taken a little longer to realize that Ren Monroe, Timmons Devine, Avy Williams, and Cora Marrin were also missing.
Witnesses and schedules and friends had corroborated the theory that they’d all been heading for the waxway room before vanishing. Investigators had arrived and known immediately that something had gone wrong. One of the deans had suggested combining their estimated distances and creating a search radius that way. The building had been temporarily boarded up.
Now figures rushed across the manicured lawns. Ren could only imagine how she looked clutching pale Theo in her bloodstained arms. “Get the medics, now!”
Theo was gently lifted from her. A professor led her into a waiting room as word of the incident spread. Investigators were quick to interview Ren. She walked them back through the entire story of what had happened. From the malfunctioning portal all the way to the standoff on the bridge. The emotional deaths of her friends. Discovering a farm that trafficked in the breath. She took great care to provide full details about Theo’s affections for her, making sure to mention their new bond magic several times. She still didn’t know if he would actually survive. If someone tried to deny the connection later, she wanted to get two steps ahead on countering those accusations. The investigators wrote down every single word in their official records.
Ren was permitted to take a bath after they left. She cleaned up, changed into new clothes, then stood vigil outside the operatory where Theo had been taken. Rumors were making their way around campus already. Whispers of what had happened. People were rightfully claiming that she had saved Theo’s life. A chariot arrived outside the medical building. She’d been expecting her mother. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see Landwin Brood marching across the quad instead.
Theo’s father was an older version of him. A little sharper at the chin, a little more lifeless around the eyes. He had not changed much since the first time Ren saw him. A decade-long hatred rumbled to life in Ren’s chest. She saw a series of ugly little snapshots. Landwin at the canal railing, glorying in the sight of her father’s broken body below. The smug smile he’d worn at the funeral the following week. She even imagined the dog, somewhere on his estate, bearing her father’s name as some final insult. She took all that hatred and set it aside in a box. She would need it later to power her efforts. But this would be a long game. Her first move mattered.
Ren dipped into a respectable bow. A moment later she straightened her shoulders. “A Monroe always stands tall,” her father used to say. Her voice didn’t tremble.
“You’re Theo’s father?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“We have much to discuss, sir.”
He looked at her with pure distaste. “You’re the girl who was with him. The other survivor. Look, I’m grateful he’s alive. I’m told you performed some basic magic to help him. But I hope you’ll understand if my priority right now is my son. I do not have time for side discussions.”
