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Shane closes his hand around my brother’s right fist.
“Whatever you’ve done to her tonight has nothing to do with your twisted bargain,” Shane snaps. “I’m happy to fight, and I bet the universe won’t tear me in two for it.”
“Same,” Ray thunders. “Maybe I’m not attacking you over her. Maybe I’m upset about the fact your men jumped Connor?”
I’m upset about that, too, obviously I am. But somehow, thoughts of the attack have drifted to the back of my mind, like it happened a long time ago.
“I’ll take you all,” Gabriel states calmly. “Fists, knives, or magic. Bring it. There are four people who could ever match me in a fight. But Philip Sadler’s past it, my mother’s dead, Brendan’s incarcerated, and she’s passing out in my arms. Which, I hasten to add, was not my intention.”
There’s a flicker at the back of the balcony as Nikki transports herself into place. Her earlier supercilious composure has all but deserted her. She steps towards us.
“Gabe, let go of her, for goodness’ sake.” She closes the gap and puts a hand on his clenched arm.
“Nikki, get the hell out of here. They can’t hurt me, but they can tear you apart.”
“Bullshit. I can look after myself, just like they can. Now give her to her family, and let’s go and get a drink.”
Pressed up against Gabriel and encircled in his magic, I don’t need the skills of an empath to sense his mood. At Nikki’s words, some of the tension and determination drifts away.
I’m trying to pay attention to all the drama going on around me, but my body and mind don’t want to play ball. I really have utterly drained myself through too much magic too soon. My vision blurs, and my shaky legs crumble.
“Sadie!” Gabriel drops his almost bored tone, and practically screams my name. Far from putting me down, he scoops me up into his arms. “Just keep breathing,” he whispers. “Let your magic flow through you. Let it heal you. Let it grow again.”
“What have you done to her?” Chrissie and Nikki ask the question in perfect sync. My sister sounds equal parts furious and terrified, while Nikki seems more shocked and curious.
“I just need a lie down,” I manage to say. “And no one needs to hurt anyone.”
“Here’s the deal. I’m not putting her down, because she’ll collapse,” Gabriel states. “But I’ll pass her to one of you. She burnt through too much magic too quickly. Her power outpaced her body’s capacity to deal with it. One of you needs to give her some of your magic, the other needs to work some healing spells. I’d happily do both of those things, but if I started pouring dark Thornber magic into her, I suspect you really would try to kill me.”
“Give her to me,” Ray says.
Gabriel nods and passes me to Chrissie’s husband. It probably feels like less of a capitulation than handing me over to an actual Sadler.
Liam takes hold of Ray’s arm with one hand and Chrissie’s hand with the other. Shane closes the circle.
It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, but I manage to glance back at Gabriel. He’s staring like he might stop me from leaving after all. Nikki’s got a firm hold of his arm and is frantically talking him down in a way few people would dare.
Then my family pull me out of there with magic and drop me in my childhood bedroom, where I finally give in and let myself collapse.
ELEVEN
When you wake up following a traumatic experience, you’re supposed to not know where you are. But the second my eyes flicker open, it’s clear that I’m truly home. Safe in the ostentatious four-poster bed that dominates my childhood bedroom, which has barely changed since the day I left, except that Chrissie’s things have been moved out, though what was once her side of the room is still pink. School textbooks mixed in with hundreds of teen novels. Posters from magazines. Lots of pretty little trinkets, some of which have a magical usage, others that simply look like they do. I’m sure I can smell some shadow of my teenage perfume in the air, though that’s probably just my mind playing tricks.
I’m surrounded by my family, who’ve dropped any pretence that I’m nothing more than their lawyer.
Chrissie has her palm flat on my forehead, trying to revive me, seeking to heal the cells my magic tore apart.
Liam has a tight grip on my wrist, and he’s funnelling his own magic into my skin to replace that which I burnt through. Like when I topped up Bren, this familial magic exchange lacks most of the ritualistic nature of sharing with someone who doesn’t already have bonds of blood.
Mum and Dad are at the back of the room, observing in a trancelike state.
I gently shrug off my brother and sister’s hands and wriggle myself into a seated position. My muscles can barely support my weight, but the fact I can move at all is a good sign. Magical burnout is no joke. It’s not something you see very often—few people exert themselves that much nowadays, particularly not from a standing start—but I was brought up on stories of people who tore themselves apart.
“I’m awake,” I murmur. “Or I will be, once I’ve had some coffee. Strong coffee.”
“Sit still, darling.” Mum almost snaps the words out. “Liam, give her a little more strength, for heaven’s sake.”
I shake my head vigorously, which leaves me feeling dizzy. “I’m fine.”
