Page 18 of Blood Currents
A sharp intake of breath.“The key.Silver like portals should be.Before they turned to oil.Before everything went wrong.”
“That’s right.”I pressed the key against the door, feeling it warm in response to the wards.It didn’t actually open anything, but it was a tangible sign of our connection.“Will you let me use it?Will you let me in?”
“What if you’re another lie?”His voice cracked.“What if Uncle sent you?What if—”
“Then I’ll leave the moment you tell me to,” I promised.“But, Keane, please.I can feel how sick you are.Let me try to help.”
Another long silence.Then, barely audible: “Okay.”
The wards recognized his agreement.The lock clicked open.
I hesitated.But I could hear Keane moving away from the door with his labored breathing.If I left now, would he let me back in?Would he even remember this conversation?
I’m sorry,I thought to my absent allies.But he needs help now.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness, Scout pressing close against my neck.
“Keane?”I called softly.“Where are you?”
A figure huddled in the corner, his knees drawn to his chest, dark hair falling over stormy blue eyes that tracked things that weren’t there.He looked nothing like the composed heir I’d kissed in secret corners of the academy.He looked broken.
“You came,” he whispered, like he still couldn’t quite believe it.“Real or not real?”
“Real,” I said, moving slowly closer.“I promise, I’m real.”
And as I knelt beside him, seeing the dark veins of corruption spider-webbing from his temples while feeling his magic stuttering and fighting against itself, I prayed I was strong enough to help him.
I reached out slowly, letting my necromantic energy flow toward him.“It’s okay,” I whispered.“I’m going to try and help with the pain.”
The moment my magic touched his, I gasped.
The corruption wasn’t just twisted.It wasalive.It writhed away from my power like something with its own will and then lashed back with vicious intent.Dark tendrils of wrongness wrapped around my necromancy, trying to drag it into the same oily channels that had consumed Keane’s portal magic.
“No,” I breathed, trying to pull back.But the corruption held tightly, sending waves of artificial pain through my magical pathways.Not physical agony, but something worse—the memory of violation, of power being carved into unnatural shapes.
I jerked my hands away, breaking the connection so abruptly that both Keane and I cried out.
“Mari?”His voice was small, lost.“Did I hurt you?I always hurt people now.”
“No,” I said quickly, though my magic still burned from the contact.“You didn’t hurt me.The corruption did.But, Keane…” I looked at the dark veins pulsing beneath his skin, at the way his magic stuttered and fought itself.“I’m not strong enough.Not yet.I don’t understand this corruption.”
His face crumpled.“So I’m stuck.Forever.”
“No.”I caught his hands in mine, careful not to let my magic touch his again.“Not forever.Just until I figure out how to fight this properly.Until I understand what they did to you.”
“You’ll come back?”The hope in his voice nearly broke me.
“I’ll come back,” I promised.“But I need help.I need to know how this corruption was made before I can unmake it.”
I helped him to the couch, noting how he moved like everything hurt.The corruption wasn’t just in his magic.It was affecting his body too, making him weak and sick.
“Try to rest,” I said, pulling a blanket over him.“I’m going to find Cyrus and Elio.We’re going to figure this out together.”
“Together,” he repeated, like the word was foreign.“I’d forgotten that was possible.”
“Well, get used to it again,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice.“Because you’re stuck with us now.”
As I moved toward the door, he called my name.
