Page 16

Then Azaren offered. "I can fix that cough. Infernal healing is remarkably effective."

Mrs. Wilton's smile became strangely sad. "I know."

The room grew warmer. The air pressed gently against my skin. Though I still couldn't see him, I felt him step closer. A low rumble echoed through the tiny cottage. The fire in the hearth flared emerald green. The herbs hanging from the ceiling swayed without wind. Something ancient, something impossibly powerful filled the room.

Mrs. Wilton closed her eyes.

Azaren's voice was full of command. "Be healed."

The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. They vibrated through the walls. Through the floor. Through my bones. For one beautiful heartbeat everything became still.

Mrs. Wilton gasped. Not in relief. In pain. The emerald flames exploded. Every window rattled. The teacups on the shelf shattered. Mrs. Wilton doubled over, coughing violently.

Dark smoke curled between her fingers. "Stop!"

The pressure vanished instantly. Silence crashed over the room. I dropped to my knees beside her.

"Mrs. Wilton!"

She struggled for breath before finally managing a weak smile. "I'm... quite... alright."

"No, you're not!" I looked wildly toward where I thought Azaren stood. "What happened?"

He didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke he sounded genuinely shaken. "I don't know."

"I've healed plague victims." His voice had gone quiet. "I've restored bodies torn apart in battle. My magic has never, made anyone worse unless I wanted them to."

Mrs. Wilton reached for the teacup on the table with trembling fingers. "I was afraid of that."

Azaren sounded like he was frowning. "Afraid of what?"

She looked at me, then off to my right again, "Because, my dear demon..." She took a slow, careful breath. "...I'm not sick." Another cough escaped her. "I'm being poisoned."

My heart stopped. "What?"

She looked fully to my right now. "By you."

I could have sworn I heard Azaren gasp. "Impossible."

"No." Mrs. Wilton's smile was gentle. "Not you specifically." She laid a hand over her heart. "Infernal magic." She coughed again. "It doesn't belong here."

"And I care because...?"

"Azaren," I scolded.

Mrs. Wilton exhibited the sort of patient affection usually reserved for particularly stubborn children.

"Because the veil between our worlds is beginning to tear," she continued softly. "When it does neither realm will escape the consequences."

"How do you know all this?" I finally asked.

"Poppy." Gently she took my hand. "I've always been a fairy godmother."

I laughed. Then stopped. "Wait. Really?"

"Yes."

"But..." I stared at her. "I thought..."