Page 102 of Grim Tidings

“Darcy,” I breathe.

Tired eyes blink open, and she stares at me blearily. Her brown eyes are shadowed, a fraction of their usual brightness. I have no idea how long she’s been like this, trapped in a cyclone of her own power.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her voice is husky and worn. Exhausted.

“I am, though.” I ease closer, moving slowly, aware that her magic is barely respecting the crude circle she’s drawn around herself. “I’m right here with you, and I’m not going to leave.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “I can’t stop it,” she whispers. “I can’t make it go away.”

She looks so frail like this. So impossibly small. “That’s okay. You don’t need to make anything go away.”

“I want it to.” Her mouth turns down in a frown and she sniffles. “I’ve taken so many things from so many people. Frank—” She chokes on a watery sob. “I don’t want it anymore.”

The door rattles on its hinges. Somewhere downstairs, a low howl spirals through the floorboards. Darcy shivers, her hands flex, and something shatters in the depths of the house.

The butterfly. And the tornado.

A tear slips out of the corner of her eye. “I can’t hold on to it anymore.”

“You don’t need to,” I whisper. I gently touch her elbow, cautious, then drag my fingers down the length of her forearm. I uncurl her fingers one by one, then press my palm to hers. She holds on to me like a lifeline, her eyes so damn sad I can barely breathe around it.

“Give it to me,” I whisper.

A little line appears between her brows. She hasn’t moved an inch besides her hand in mine. “What?”

“Give it to me,” I say again. Urgency is making me impatient. I don’t how much longer she can do this to herself before the magic overpowers her. “You said you can’t hold on to it, so give it to me instead. Let me carry it for a while.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Says who?” Beneath us, the hardwood starts to shake. I squeeze her hand. “C’mon, Darcy. Let me in. Let me help.”

Her lower lip trembles. “I don’t—I don’t know how.”

I gently rearrange us until I’m in the middle of her threadbare rug. I unfold her body with careful hands, lifting until she’s draped over me with her knees at my hips. I curl my body around hers, protective. “I can show you. You just need to trust me. Can you do that?”

She traces a shaky line across my jaw with her fingertips. “I can try.”

“Good. That’s all you need to do. Try.”

I’ve never done this before, but I’ve seen other Guardians do it. The transfer of power between two immortal beings, magic slipping from one to the next like a conduit. Like fairy lights on a string.

I scoop her closer with my hand against the small of her back. “Where does it feel like your magic is coming from?”

“It feels like—” She flinches, and I soothe her with a slow stroke down the length of her spine. “It feels like there’s a locked door in the center of me. But that door has been rattling for such a long time, and I never let it out and—”

I stop her with a hush, digging my knuckles between her shoulder blades. Everything in the room rises two inches, then falls with a clatter.

She drops her forehead against mine, her chest heaving. “The door is gone. I can’t stop it.”

“You can. Just close your eyes.” She does as I ask, and I cup her face with my hands, holding her forehead to mine. “Imagine it like a tunnel. Picture it. A bridge from you to me and back again.”

Her brows furrow. The house groans. Shadows slip beneath the door and start to collect at the edges of the room.

“I can’t.” A sob shatters out of her. “It’s not—I don’t know how.”

I release the grip I have on my magic and let it tentatively reach toward hers. Silver and gold threads unfold from my chest, the center of me lighting up a deep, sunset orange. My tattoos flare to life, shimmering with the magic that flows beneath my skin.

“Show me,” I whisper.