“Focus on the tingles in your fingertips that tell you your hands are still right where they should be,” Aster continues, completely unmoved by the rumbling that continues emanating from Torin’s chest. “Draw it out.”
Torin grunts. “Steady.”
It’s hard to tell if he’s talking to Aster or to himself. I lock eyes with Aster, and he gives me a slight nod. Reaching forward, I then press my fingertips to the thick, soft material of skin.
Then Aster murmurs something under his breath, speaking words I don’t recognise and grabbing Torin’s hand as he pushes it against my skin. He starts up a slow, steady chant, and I feel tingles spreading up from the point where my fingers are making contact, all the way up my arms until it reaches my face.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the usual sense of unease and disgust from other people touching my skin doesn’t hit me. Instead, my mind flits back to one of the last times I was with Noush, remembering exactly how it felt to shift into her form.She insisted we play with a sea lion who was really not into our games, and we almost got a nasty nip for our troubles.
She’s always getting me into trouble. Like the time she got a little too close to a prickly fish, and we wound up with a faceful of spikes that were a bastard to pull out.
My lips twitch into a small smile at the memory.
I’m so lost in my head, I almost miss the moment Aster stops chanting.
My eyes flicker open and I meet Torin’s eyes first. He’s breathing hard and rubbing at the centre of his chest.
“Steady,” he growls, and this time, I know without a doubt that he’s talking to his bear.
Focusing my gaze on Aster, he meets my eyes with a steadiness that almost distracts from the circles under his eyes.
I can already tell that it hasn’t worked. My skin feels just as lifeless under my palms as it has since that terrible woman got her hands on it.
I’m tempted not to bother slipping the skin over my shoulders when I already know the outcome. But Aster and Torin are both looking at me expectantly, and a voice that sounds awfully like Noush’s whispers in my ear that I shouldjust do it, you coward.
Over my shoulders it goes, and I sit there for a beat, two beats, waiting for the transformation that never comes.
We all freeze where we are as nothing happens. Aster’s expression falls just enough to make my stomach ache, and Torin lets out a little growl of frustration.
“It’s all right,” I say. “It was a long shot.”
There has to be some way to fix things. I just can’t comprehend a world where I’ve lost her, where I have to keep going without the other half of my soul. Without—
Something shifts inside me, my chest growing tight as I keep the skin wrapped around me. Like this, it doesn’t even feel likemine. It’s like someone chopped off my hand, and I’ve been carrying the withered and rotting remains around with me ever since. I tug off my skin in a hurry, fighting to keep my breathing even and to ignore the buzzing in my ears as panic rises through my torso until it feels like there’s a vice around my lungs.
What the hell was that?
Aster is reaching forward and has his hands on my skin again with a frown on his face while Torin twists away, breathing hard like he’s fighting to get his bear under control.
“Something happened,” Aster says quietly, his eyes snapping to mine.
“How do you mean?” I wrap my arms around my middle, hugging myself tightly.
“I don’t think it was a total failure,” he replies. “I felt something shift, but I don’t think we had enough magic.” He squeezes my hand in his with a firm nod. “We’ll try again.”
His firmness settles something in me, chasing away the tight feeling in my chest so that I can take a full breath again.
He’s right, I can’t give into despair, I can’t give up on Noush. Not now.
“We try again.”
AND SO THE THREE OFus try again later that night and then in the morning, just in case the transfer works better by daylight or moonlight. But every time, Torin’s fingers stay invisible and my skin remains lifeless.
On the third day, we’re sitting there in the middle of the afternoon just after the moon has risen as a faded version of itself. The transfer has failed yet again, and I’m sitting, trying to breathe through the sensation that my chest is caving in on itself.
There’s a crack of wood snapping from somewhere behind, and Torin jumps to his feet, heading for the treeline. A moment later, Kit staggers out, his face creased with confusion. Aster and I leap to our feet as Kit staggers forward. His face has a long scratch along one cheek, and there are leaves tangled in his hair.
“Kit? What’s happening?” I hurry toward him, gripping his cold fingers in mine. “Where have you been?”
