Page 115 of Obsidian and Frost
The last thing I wanted was to do it again, but here we were.
I had the power. I couldn’t not use it for them.
My purple magic burst forth with flecks of black, a rush like no other. It swept over the nightstand and I felt it breach Sylas’ magical lock a second before the drawer opened.
I pulled back my power, choking a little at the sensation, and then I reached in and pulled out five syringes of a couple of dozen in there—holy hell.
Sylas had said that he’d need at least five to be able to treat such a mammoth spread of desiccation.
“At the… site,” Sylas told us, as I handed them to Lazriel.
In rapid-fire bursts, he injected them into Sylas’ abs, right shoulder, left and right leg, and then his throat as well.
We watched with bated breath as the grayish tint actually began dissipating, the desiccation healing quickly.
Lazriel and I exchanged a heavy look.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed, sitting back on his haunches on Sylas.
It took Sylas a moment to breathe steadily again and become more cognizant, and when he managed it, he reached out to Lazriel.
I winced when Lazriel batted his hand away, then climbed off the bed.
Sylas sat up and leaned heavily against the headboard. “I know you’re upset and—”
“Upset?” Lazriel snapped. “Upset?Is that what I am, necromancer?”
“I’d say so, yes.”
“Sylas,” I ground out, perching on the edge of the bed. “His reaction is warranted. Downplaying it isn’t going to do that any favors.”
“It’s not as bad as you think,” he still told us.Jeez,he was a hard nut to crack.
Well, I guess there was a whole lot of that going around. I couldn’t really talk where that was concerned.
I grimaced as I looked at Lazriel who was pacing back and forth and pulling at his hair, anger and pain barely contained.
I’d contributed to this as well for him.
And I felt sick with it.
For him. For all of this.
He had such a good heart, an open heart, once he drew close to someone. So much to give.
And here he’d been slamming up against walls with me, then thinking the opposite had been true of Sylas until this brutal revelation about this awful sickness he was afflicted with.
Hell, it was more than mere sickness. With his magic compromised for a few moments, even though I could feel it surging back now, I’d sensed it—death.
Sylas was actually dying.
“Not as bad?” I queried, trying to keep the edge out of my voice
“I had to exert myself tonight on a job. I would have been fine, though, if it hadn’t been for Rennick’s unprecedented attack.”
“What job?” Lazriel barked back at him.
“The details don’t matter.”
