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Derrick’s voice was stunned. “Mom?”
My knees felt like mush and my muscles seemed to have gone for a miles long sprint without my consent, but I straightened, determined to stand on my own so that Derrick could reach his mother. He eyed me for a moment, clearly worried I might fall over, but I waved him off and he turned to kneel beside his mother. She lifted a hand to pat his cheek, her eyes misty.
“Look how big you got,” she said, smiling.
Derrick huffed a laugh. “I’m not nearly as big as Dad was.”
“Was,” she said, her gaze drifting to someplace over his shoulder.
“Mom?” Derrick took her hands and squeezed. “Mom, please. Stay with me.”
“Oh, Derrick, I wish I could,” Janice said, her voice taking on a strange lilt. “But this is the only way to keep you safe.”
“I am safe, Mom. I am. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
The smile she gave him was so full of love and sorrow that it was painful to see. She stroked his face once, gently, and shook her head. I pressed a hand to my gut, willing myself to stay silent and still, to grant them some sort of privacy.
“Mom?”
But Janice’s eyes were glossed over, her body slack in the chair, and I knew she was gone from us once more.
Derrick bowed his head and I saw a muscle in his jaw jump. Without meaning to, I reached to press a hand against his shoulder. He stiffened at first, and then relaxed. After a moment, he covered my hand with his own.
I didn’t offer an apology. What good would that be? So I offered what I could and stayed with him until he had recovered from the shock.
Carefully, he tucked the blanket around his mother’s legs again. He guided her hands so that she folded them in her lap, and then leaned forward to kiss her head. Heaving a sigh, he got to his feet.
This was the way of things, I realized. Fleeting moments of clarity with his mother only to have her ripped from him again. My fingers itched to reach for him, to hold him, let him share his grief until he had the strength to move on. But he was already turning, stepping behind the wheelchair once more.
There were things a mind wizard could do for those who had burned themselves out, but it was mostly prolonging moments of clarity by scant minutes and even if I had my magic, it was a spell I was unfamiliar with. It took training and practice, and many prepared runestones.
“We’re going to be missed at the bonfire,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Not remotely.” I glanced at the forest. Dusk was full on us now. Only a thin shred of vivid pink slashed across the horizon, and the path around us was plunged in shadow. “What was that?”
“Nora…” there was a weary note to his voice, but I couldn’t stop.
“It was warning us about something,” I rushed. “And it felt… Maker help me, it felt like it was…”
“Leeching you dry.”
I started at that. “What?”
“It was leeching your magic, Nora. It’s what they do to Bright creatures who aren’t prepared. The dead need energy to communicate like that, and they’ll take everything you’ve got if you’re not careful.” He nodded down to my hand. “I think the runestone drew it to you.”
“But it wasn’t drawn to me. It went to your mother.”
“Who is also weakened,” he pointed out. He shook his head again. “Normally they don’t come out when there are a lot of people on the paths. This must be important.”
I shuddered, trying to shove the melody from my head, but it seemed stuck there, elegant and haunting, tugging at my soul with grief and warning. He comes in the mouth of the night, it had said. But what in Maker did that mean?
“How did you stop it?” I asked.
We began walking as he answered my final question. “One of the many perks of being a Constable. Protection runes are in no short supply.”
With that, he started back down the path.
Chapter Fourteen
