Page 45 of The Lost Fae
"Iron." He looks to me. "They knew what they were doing when they were fighting the Fae. I wonder how they figured it out."
"What are you doing?"
Something dangerous is brewing inside Lincoln’s mind. And I know exactly where he is going with this. He shouldn't. Oh, God please don't. I fist and unfist my hands in my pockets in nervous anticipation.
Ziko chooses not to answer my question. At least not immediately. With a cheeky grin he saunters to the table and presses his hand down on it, hovering the edge of his sword just inches above.
"Don't do that!" I hiss stepping forward. The sharpened tip rests gently on one the middle knuckle of his pinky. I inhale sharply.
"Gotta find out one way or another, I'll heal too quickly even through the Iron to just give you a small cut to work with."
I open my mouth to dissuade him once again, but Ziko grits his teeth, pressing the sword into his flesh. Sometimes hearing as well as the Fae do doesn't have an upside. When the blade passes through his finger, I can hear the snap of cartilage, the grinding as he passes through the bone, everything else sounds much more...squishy.
Blood immediately begins to fill the space between his hand and the severed finger. I scream, both frustrated that he'd gone through with it, and repulsed at the idea that I'm now... what... supposed to touch his unattached finger? My magic didn't come with an instruction manual.
"What if I don't have healing magic?" I speak. "Lincoln, no. Lincoln, NO. What do I do? What do I do?"
Ziko tilts his head. "Relax, it's just a pinky. Even if you can't reattach it then I think I'll be able to live life just fine without it."
"Lincoln. It's a whole finger." Oh, my God.It's a whole finger.
There is a nervous patter to my feet as I move forward. It makes my steps smaller, unsure, and flighty. As if I might actually run away. I won't. No, not with Lincoln's finger sitting there all alone.
What am I supposed to do now? Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he give instructions first?!
"Come give it a go before the tip heals closed. We don't have all day, we have the Fae Realm to get back to," he urges.
"But yet you found time to cut off your finger?" I pull out a chair and force myself down in it, swallowing the fear of failure along with it. "What do I do?"
"How are you with blood?"
"I haven't passed out yet, have I?"Though the chance of that isn't entirely off the table, I think. "You probably should have asked that first.”
"Probably." Ziko shrugs. "Take what I've cut off and press it back to the wound. Then... you'll need to enter my mind. I'll make it easy, all walls down. You'll have to encourage my body to heal. Find the source of pain in my body. Spotlight it with your magic."
I stare up at him, wishing my gaze could burn a hole right through his goddamn forehead. With what I lovingly refer to as mymagic fingers,I touch inside his mind where the walls would be and find them far removed as he has suggested. It's clear where his pain is. It blooms with a flashing purple red color. I close my eyes to focus, moving to the hum of discomfort.
The closer I get, the greater a dull ache in my pinky forms and grows. Every heartbeat makes the pain heat and sear up my arm,up Lincoln's arm. I dig my teeth into my lower lip, holding his pain as if it's my own.
"Good," he whispers, "Now follow the nerve endings. Mend them. Press the skin cells back together. Make sure to promote good blood flow."
As if that's supposed to make sense to me...
The closer I focus on the ball of pain that my magic surrounds the more I notice it looks more like a bouquet. Strands and fluff of unidentifiable strings curl out of my touch. Carefully, I tug one. Lincoln gives me the smallest groan, but I sway in my chair as the agony spikes. That's a nerve alright.
Tenderly, I try to touch it again. Not a yank this time, but I follow it. I follow it to the end until I find its other half dangling not far away. My magic jumps for the other piece. There's an urgency inside of me that pushes all of my want to fix Lincoln's finger right onto the seam of it. The nerve snaps back together like the pull of each end of a rope as it ties a knot.
"Not so much magic for such a small part." Lincoln's voice is strained, his body stiff. Though I know he's closed his eyes now.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I murmur, pulling some of my magic away. There is a copper taste spreading on my tongue as I continue.
It takes time, I'm just not sure how long. The boat carries on, on whatever charted path I have yet to question Lincoln about, while the two of us stay at that table with our eyes pressed tightly closed in concentration.
Finally, there is an end to our bouquet of agony. The glowing colors of pain have calmed to a lovely blue.A healing blue.I've run out of pieces to match to the other side. I open my eyes. Lincoln's already looking down, a little too smugly, at his finger.
"If I let go of this appendage will it stay attached?" I say the words slowly.
"Won't know ‘til we try..."
