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CHAPTER14
CLAWDIA
“Baelen?” I cried out as we pushed through the wooden door to the medical center. But the screams weren’t coming from Baelen’s room. They were coming from the protector’s.
“Where’s that doctor?” Charlie asked furiously as I rushed to the room.
The sound of pain and fear drawing me like a moth to the flame, I cracked the door open to see complete darkness.
“Sigurd?” I whispered. The screams were now whimpers. “Are you all right? What hurts?”
The afternoon sunlight flooded the room as I creeped in, illuminating the empty bed. Sigurd was on the floor, panting, his long blond hair splayed around his head like a halo and his body curled in on itself.
At the sound of my voice, his head snapped toward me, and he choked out, “Margaret?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d called me by my first name, my old name, but I’d brushed it off as coincidence. But now it was clear as day. Even though his bloodshot eyes were hazy with pain, there was a familiarity there. He knew me. Somehow. But I couldn’t dwell on that. I schooled my face and locked my feelings behind a cage in my mind. He didn’t need my confusion or questions right now. He needed help.
“I was,” I agreed quietly and approached him like I would a cornered animal. “Are you all right? Why are you screaming? Let me help you.”
His threads were orange, but I couldn’t see anything that would cause him to scream in such a pained manner.Perhaps it was a nightmare?
“How are you here?” He slowly rolled to sit up, clutching his stomach. “I thought—“
“I’ll explain everything, but I’d really like to check that you are all right first. Is that okay?”
He nodded mutely. I dropped to my knees at his side and touched his shoulder, funneling power into him and turning his threads from orange to green. His breathing slowed, and his muscles relaxed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the side table beside him.
“You healed me? Raised me?”
“No. God, no,” I automatically said. I wasn’t the witches who wanted to bring him back, who took the lives of demons to do so. But it was my power that brought him back. I had healed him. “Well, maybe a little by accident.”
He opened his eyes to assess me and then nodded. “Your magic feels familiar.”
I felt the need to explain. “Zaide and I tried to heal you before. And Zaide helped Alcor and Savida heal you completely. They are demons. We aren’t sure why you kept getting so drained after we healed you, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem now.”
I finished healing him and sat back on my heels and stared openly. The last time I saw him, he was a crippled old man, unable to move or speak. Zaide had explained the effect the demons had on healing him, but it was still so surprising. It was like I was talking to a completely different person.
But I wasn’t.
He was risen from the dead. Constantly drained and unable to heal. Aware but in constant pain. Probably confused about where he was and unable to ask questions. Or to fight against his ill treatment. And I thought I’d had a rough few weeks.
How he’s suffered because of the wills of others. He’s probably so frightened.
We were shadowed as Charlie and Zaide stood in the doorway, blocking the sunlight behind them, and stared at us with concern in their eyes.
“Margaret …” Sigurd began drawing my attention back to him.
“I go by Clawdia,” I told him quietly.
“Why am I here?” His piercing blue eyes were serious yet hypnotic.
Charlie coughed. “Why don’t I get some food in, and then we can explain everything?”
Sigurd nodded. “I’d like to wash up too.”
“That can be arranged.” I smiled and stood up. “Charlie, don’t tell anyone he’s awake. The council …”
“Yes. I know,” was his reply as he strode away with a wave.
