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Derrick grunted in what sounded like agreement and lowered his hand. His tattoos stopped glowing and he met my gaze. “What did you do, Nora?”
Panic rose steady and fast in my chest. “Does this mean you can’t get the runestone out?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He touched my uninjured hand and squeezed my fingers. “Nora, please help me understand. What happened back there in the forest? How did you create that rune?”
I blinked at him. He wasn’t sure he could get the runestone out? What did that mean? Would I never be able to access magic again? I squeezed his hand back, my mind filled with the terror of those moments in the forest, Mark doing his best to kill Derrick, wolves howling everywhere.
“I don’t know,” I said around a hard lump in my throat. “You were in trouble, and I couldn’t let you die.”
His mouth tugged into a frown. “Nora, how did you access the aether?”
“I just did.” Glancing over my mummified hand, I caught a sob in my chest. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I met his gaze again. There was concern and confusion in his face and I felt more than saw him reach to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Tell me what you can remember. It’s important.”
“Pain. I remember a lot of pain. And thinking I had no runes that could possibly help.”
“What rune did you use?” His fingers lingered on my jaw, and I felt his thumb brush across my cheek.
“Heightened awareness, I think,” I said.
His mouth quirked into a faint smile. “Well, I give you marks for creativity. I’m not sure anyone else has used the rune like that before. Mark went down instantly.”
I tried to swallow down my panic, but it was not working. “Derrick, what happens if you can’t get the runestone out?”
“We’ll get it out.”
“But you just said…”
“I said I wasn’t certain that I could get the stone out, Nora. Not that it was impossible. We’ll find someone who can.”
Derrick brushed my cheek with his thumb, rough callouses gently rolling over my skin and he made a soothing sound before drawing me into him. I hid my face in his neck and tried to ignore the growl of fear in my mind. His arms wrapped around me, solid and strong, and I let myself weep, giving in to the terror and uncertainty of the past few days.
What if my magic was gone?
What if I could never feel or sense another being’s emotions again? What did that make me? Would I even be me anymore?
I felt his voice under my ear, the rumble of regret in him as he said; “I am so sorry I got you into this, Nora.”
“You didn’t mean to,” I mumbled back. It was so nice in the cocoon of him that I didn’t want to move.
“Whether I meant to or not, you’re here and you’re in danger.” He pulled back a little, cupping my face in both hands to meet my eyes. “I need you to promise me something. Well, two somethings.”
His eyes were so blue and bright, full of care and worry, that I nodded my ascent without asking first. I should have asked first. It was the first rule when it came to promises, you had to know what you were getting into before you agreed.
“First, I need you to do what I say, when I say it. The next time I tell you to run, you have to run, Nora. You got lucky this time, but it could have been so much worse.”
“Lucky?” I whispered with an incredulous laugh.
“Yes, lucky. If the pack had caught you, there would not have been a trial. When they get into the blood hunt, they don’t stop to ask if you’re innocent. There wouldn’t have been enough left of you to identify, Nora. Do you understand?”
A sick knot coiled in my gut and for an eerie moment I could hear the howls and yips of many wolves on the hunt. And there was Malcolm’s body again, dead in the dirt; dead because of me. Mouth dry, I nodded.
“Derrick,” I said, unable to hold it any longer, “You need to know about your grandfather.”
His expression closed a little and he eyed me, all wariness and frowns, but in the end, he let me explain and it came pouring out. I told him of waking in the factory, that Malcolm had been there and saved me from Henry. When I spoke of the moment in the forest, of that fact that something had been hunting us, Derrick’s frown turned deeper, but he said nothing.
“If it wasn’t for Lord Malcolm, I would be dead now,” I said.
