Page 18 of A Bolt of Magic

“McColl. Stop!” I yell, but either she doesn’t hear me or refuses to listen. I’m going with the latter. Then again, she is pulling away from me and could be too far to hear me scream.

She needs to slow down. She needs to use her magic to get through the barrier. Otherwise, it will block her. She will be hurt…or worse.

With a sinking feeling in my chest, I watch as McColl’s horse charges toward the barrier at full speed. At this point, she is pulling on the reins, doing everything in her power to stop or at least slow, but it isn’t working; her horse is too badly spooked. He won’t listen. He’s taken the bit and is picking up speed.

When it becomes clear that she isn’t going to be able to slow, let alone stop, she drops the reins and lifts her hands, facing them toward the barrier.

They shimmer, illuminating in the partial light. Her hands grow brighter, her body painted in the glow.

Maybe it will work. It has to.

The only sign that the barrier is there is the change in landscape. That is it! It’s magical all the same and designed to keep all non-fae inside…or out. Completely see-through; it may as well be a solid brick wall for a non-fae, for McColl.

Oh gods!

I hold my breath, praying that her magic works. That she is stronger than she gives herself credit for. I am alive. I’m sure she had something to do with that.

Her horse speeds up as they approach the barrier. The beast is wholly unperturbed, since the magic will have no effect on the creature.

Time seems to stand still as the horse starts to go through. I cry out when McColl is flung backward from the saddle, hitting the ground hard. Her horse keeps running, clods of mud flying from his hooves as he eats up the ground.

McColl doesn’t so much as move. She lies prone on the ground, flat on her back.

I spur my horse on, frantic to get to her. Once I do, I leap from the beast while he is still in motion. The animal follows behind the one up front, running hell-for-leather. My attention is on McColl.

Her right arm is clearly broken. Her face is bloody and wrecked. Her leg is at a strange angle.

“No!” I shout as I drop down beside her. “McColl!”

I pull her into my arms, cradling her broken body against me. The fear of watching her die grips me in a viselike hold that has my blood running cold. Blood trickles from a cut on her forehead, staining her hair a dark crimson. More runs from the corner of her mouth and from both nostrils. Her skin is pale. Her eyes are closed. I press a hand against her cheek. Panic surges through me as I realize the extent of her injuries.

I put a finger beneath her nostrils, feeling the softest touch of her breath. Her chest doesn’t look like it’s moving. She’s barely alive.

Magic buzzes through my veins, but I can’t use it. I’m useless. An emptyfae. I have no well and, therefore, no way to access my powers.

It’s infuriating.

I’m not a magicless being, but I may as well be.

I pull her against me and will her to heal, anyway. It’s stupid because it won’t work. It can’t.

Only it does.

There is a buzzing inside me that pulsates through my veins, surging toward my fingertips.

I gasp. This can’t be happening.

Warmth spreads from where McColl’s body touches mine. Light radiates all around us. Her broken arm starts to straighten out, bones knitting together before my eyes. The gash on her forehead closes up, leaving behind nothing but smooth skin.

Am I doing this?

Or is she?

How?

I don’t understand. Even the grass beneath our feet grows another inch or two, and a flower opens its petals. Slowly, color returns to her cheeks as she stirs in my arms.

Seconds later, McColl opens her eyes, looking into mine. They are, indeed, swirling with green and flecks of pure gold around her irises.

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