must survive. Only, she couldn’t help him.
Her gaze drifted down to the man lying on the bed, his features so still. She knew someone who could, though, and the very thought of asking him for help burned like acid in her stomach. The thought, though, that Lance would die was even worse.
Melissa dredged up her remaining stores of magic. The work she’d already done on Lance had been draining. She pressed gently against his temple and whispered a dormancy spell. It wasn’t quite as effective as a suspension spell, but putting the half-human Lance into a suspended state would halt his heartbeat, and a continuance spell may not work without that vital pulse. A dormancy spell allowed his body and mind to go into a state of hibernation, still sustaining life, but limiting the spread of that toxin, whatever it was.
“I, uh, I need to step out,” she said, her voice husky with strain. She blinked. Her vision was blurry and gray. Dormancy spells weren’t easy, and they took a toll. “Stay with him. Talk to him, Lexi. I’ve put him in a coma, to stop...it.” Death. She’d put him in a coma to stop death. Her mother would freak if she found her playing with the natural order of things. Magic could be used, but once you used it against nature’s course there were consequences. Melissa mentally defended herself against the imaginary conversation with her Coven Elder. She’d delayed death, not contravened it.
She knew one person, though, who could prevent it—and he was currently shivering in a cell in her basement.
With each step she took down to his prison, she argued with herself. Was there another option? Could anyone else help? What about Dave? No. He’d encounter the same issue she did. Lance needed medical help, not magical. How long could she keep Lance dormant? Perhaps she could wait just a little longer, until someone more suitable could be reached? The stairs leading from her store down to her apothecary spun for a moment, and she clutched the wall for support until her vision settled and she could enter her secret store.
A dormancy spell worked differently to most. For it to continue its effect, it had to siphon energy from her own reserves, and she’d drained most in her efforts to heal Lance and to halt the toxin. It was almost too much effort to despell the wards on the mural door. She reached for the torch and carefully made her way down the steep stairs, clinging to the railing as she went.
She halted before the dark door and took a deep breath, composing her features. She hated this. Hated it. She swung open the door and the torch cut a swathe of light through the darkness.
Her prisoner sat on the floor, his back to the wall, and he lifted his head. His lips curled in a wicked smile.
“Hello, Red. Come to make a deal with the devil?”
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