Thank the gods it was simple and no freaking Latin.
Terese sent us off with a pre-made spell that would enclose Milly and put her to sleep, making the final blow easier on both of us. Of course, after Terese had told us everything Milly had been telling the Coven, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go easy on my former best friend.
“We know all your secrets, Rylee—about your Immunity and the best way to work around it. About your Tracking and the ways she’d learnt to shift someone’s threads and the vibrations they gave off to another. She knows your strengths and your weaknesses, and will use them against you, as she did us. My only piece of advice is to kill her swiftly.”
What had infuriated me the most was, as we drove away, knowing I had to leave for London and wouldn’t be able to take care of Milly until I got back. She was a burr under my skin, itching and irritating the hell out of me. How was I going to find the witch if I couldn’t Track her? Shit, I’d have never thought someone could shift vibrations; the threads always seemed so distinct to me.
Was that what had happened with my last salvage and the Trolls? Maybe that hadn’t been Troll magic shifting the kid’s energies, masking them so I thought he was still alive.
Fuck, maybe it had been Milly.
More than ever, I knew I needed to get to London and learn from the Tracker waiting there. I had to believe that Jack Feen would have the answers.
I turned my head to look at Giselle. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back in the seat.
“Giselle,” I said softly. “Are you okay?”
“Just tired. A truth spell is one that drains the person it’s used on.”
“Do you want me to pull over, or . . .” Damn, I didn’t know what she would need. I’d never had a spell used on me and never would; I had no idea what would help the recovery time.
“No, just take us home. That is where I need to be.”
I drove as fast as I dared on the winter-kissed roads. Black ice was a bitch, and I’d already had one accident that winter. I had no need to make it a repeat event.
We pulled into the driveway and made it all the way up to the farmhouse before I registered that Giselle had gone very still. I slammed the Jeep into park and reached over, putting my fingers against her throat.
My own heart hammered so hard I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, if anything.
“Giselle, please, not yet.”
I pressed harder up under her jaw. Almost ten seconds passed before the flutter of a heartbeat brushed against my fingertips, like the touch of a butterfly’s wing, it was so hesitant.
Leaping out of the Jeep, I ran around to the passenger side and opened the door. This couldn’t be it, it just couldn’t. With as much care as I had in me, I lifted Giselle out and half-jogged, half-speed walked up to the house, somehow managing to open the door without putting her down.
Placing Giselle in my bed, I again felt for a heartbeat. The feel of her blood pumping was faint, and so subtle, so quiet I could hardly convince myself that she was in fact still alive.
She let out a moan and I sat beside her. “Giselle, what do you need?”
Her eyes fluttered and opened, staring up at me. “It is time, my girl.”
My heart slammed against my chest. “No, not yet.” I reached out and touched the side of her face, feeling the coolness of her skin. I pulled the blankets around her, and then curled up beside her, giving her the warmth of my own body. Her hand lifted in the air, then dropped light as a feather onto my hip.
“I’ve told you much, but there is a little more.” She took a breath, but her chest didn’t rise, as if the air were escaping her somehow.
I closed my eyes and put my face into the crook of her neck, breathed in deep, as if I could somehow help her. I could say nothing, didn’t trust my voice to do anything but crack and crumble under the strain of my heart breaking.
“You will need this.” She touched the opal stone hanging from her neck. “I cannot see clearly why, only that you must take it with you to London.”
I put my hand over hers. “All right.”
Her eyelids fluttered and her body shivered. I held her tighter, as if I could stop her from going. Even I couldn’t stop death, though, no matter my abilities.
“You are more than a Tracker, Rylee, and in some ways, that is the least of your worries.” She took a breath, let it out, took another. “You are touched with the Blood of the Lost.”
I circled her with my arms, not caring what she said, only knowing that it would be the last I ever heard her speak. Let her tell me to find my blue socks for years, I would take that over this. But it wasn’t my choice, and in my heart I knew that she wanted to be free of the madness.