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Once inside, I paused to catch my breath. Thunder rumbled, so close to us I jumped. Lightning flashed almost immediately after, leaving me blind and surrounded by the smell of ozone. Since I wasn’t likely to truly breathe until this was over, I followed Della up the steps.
Margaret was outside on the widow’s walk. Rafe stood at the railing, close to her, but not close enough to interfere. Della waited in the doorway, where I joined her. The wind tore at our clothing and hair. Margaret leaned out, one hand gripping the rail, the other held high, gesturing, spelling, doing what she could to divert this monster.
A clap of thunder had me quaking. Lightning flashed, this time close enough to knock Margaret over. She fell, landing awkwardly against the wall, but just as quickly she got a hand on the railing and pulled herself up. She screamed, both hands raised.
The storm ignored her, continuing to pelt us with rain. Chilled to the bone, my shivers were a combination of cold and fear. Cold, because I was soaked to the skin.
Fear, because that voice was back, telling me we’d never survive.
Or were those doubts my own?
More thunder. Another bolt of lightning, this time so close it sent sparks along the railing. Margaret kept her feet, though her head was bowed, her hands wavering. She relaxed one arm, allowing it to drop to her side. She fought, but she was fading.
I grabbed Rafe’s arm. If Della said he could channel his power, then he could, and if we waited for Margaret’s permission, the voice might be right. She might not survive the fight. I took hold of her hand. So cold, as if even the memory of warmth had been driven from her body. Rafe took my other hand, and there, in the midst of the downpour, he released his power.
It spun through me, a thin golden string I could see plainly when I closed my eyes. It wrapped around one arm, looped across my shoulders, and raced along the other arm to get to Margaret.
That thin golden string restored her.
The wind lessened the slightest bit, giving me hope in their combined magic. The storm was right overhead. Nevertheless, they hung on, despite the lashing rain, the fearsome wind. Fueled by Rafe’s magic, Margaret battled that storm, with me the conduit and Della the witness.
When the wind finally lost its lethal power, Margaret collapsed. I caught her on the way down, and I’m ashamed to admit that Rafe had to catch me. We got Margaret inside and worked to revive her. Rain still fell, but it was more of a shower and the wind had all but given up.
Rafe’s face was grey with exhaustion, but as soon as Margaret roused, he went outside to reset the protection spell. He’d only been gone a minute or two when he burst through the door. “Vincent, come.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sun had set sometime during the monster storm, and the leftover clouds obscured the moon. I flicked my fingers to make a witchlight. I was done with fumbling around in the dark.
Clenching my teeth to keep from shivering, I first surveyed the scene, wondering what Rafe wanted me to see. Waves crashed on our beach, as high a tide as I’d seen since we arrived. The breeze spattered us with saltwater spray and the forest murmured, branches swaying.
You’ll never give Rafe the help he needs.
I choked back a protest, and again I came close to telling Rafe about the voice. He might know the source; I had my suspicions, terrible enough that I didn’t want to speak them out loud.
“What do you see?” Rafe pointed out toward the horizon. I joined him at the railing, and sure enough, he pointed to a light bobbing in the waves.
“A light, all on its own.” I squinted, willing myself to distinguish something in the murk. “I can’t see a boat, let alone someone holding the light.”
“There’s someone out there, though his spirit is faint. It looks like he’s fighting the tide to reach us.” He gripped the railing. “What the hell is he doing out there?”
“He needs our help.”
He ignored me. “It could be anybody, friend or foe.,” he murmured.
“Still, we should help—”
“No. There’s no way.”
“We could get a rope and…” My voice faded as doubt overcame my best impulses.
“If we had a rope, what would we do with it?”
“Swim it out to him.”
My evident sincerity made him laugh. “Neither of us is going to jump into storm-tossed waters to bring an unknown person a rope.”
I dashed a hand across my face, wiping away salt spray. “Well, unless you also possess the power of flight, I don’t see how else to get it to him.”
