At first, Caster’s response was a flutter of his hand, his claws digging deeper into his palm, but the flutter turned into sharp, precise movement, and Mark forgot all fear.
“I love you!” The fear, the hesitation, fled with each flutter of Caster’s fingers. “Please come back to me, so I can tell you.”
He wanted to jump out of bed, find Riley, and make him use his immense power to bring Caster back. But that would mean leaving him, and he didn’t want to do that. He closed his eyes,gathered the clearest image of Riley he could muster, and took a chance.Are you almost ready? He’s responding to me.
The powerful witch’s presence in his mind space was too unsettling, stealing his breath. It was as if his power tried to rip his mind to shreds. He shut his eyes against the assault, wincing as his wolf jumped to attention, ready to fight the intrusion.
But a sudden, soothing calm replaced the tense threat, and he sighed his relief.
Sorry, you caught me off guard.Riley’s voice infiltrated the space in his mind, calming his wolf back to low-key alertness.Good. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Keep him connected to you. It will be easier that way.
Tension like he hadn’t known since the war filled the space, Pierce’s stare a prickle of irritation on his skin. Mark continued to speak to him, something about his childhood, the effect of his voice drowning out his words.
The Underworld’s distant hum grew in intensity and volume, battling Mark’s whisper for his attention. The darkness outside this cavern he’d found seeped through the cracks in the door in whisps of smoke, infecting the light with its persistence. The constant battle he waged against the witch’s darkness and the persistent Underworld’s call zapped his strength, and he lowered his body to the floor, half-expecting it to swallow him.
The wisps of dark smoke gathered into a cascade that covered the floor as the distant hum of the Underworld’s call drowned out Mark’s voice for the first time. He closed his eyes against the assault, but not before he caught the slightest of movements from Pierce’s corner.
The darkness growing into a smog infiltrated his nostrils, the scent reminiscent of the witch. It clawed at his lungs, the air he exhaled burning a path into his mouth. He roared against the assault, the pain minuscule but terrifying, and called on everything in him to hold on to Mark’s voice, unsure if his efforts bore any fruit. Pierce’s earlier assessment echoed in his mind. What if the darkness or the Underworld won and he never saw Mark again, never got to hold him, never again witnessed his exquisite surrender?
The thought tore at his remaining strength, and he doubled over at the unexpected pain. Physical pain was strange. This pain was unfamiliar in its persistence.
“I love you!”
His eyes popped open, his heart stopped, his breath paused, and the Underworld’s call disappeared into the echoing sound of Mark’s voice.
“I love you. Please come back to me so I can tell you.”
He extended his hand, trying in futility to reach for Mark across the impossible distance separating them. Tears pricked at his eyes when his body failed him. He needed to get back to Mark, needed to see his perfect lips form words until now he hadn’t thought he’d ever need to hear.
He opened his mouth to reciprocate the truth of his feelings, a truth his mother had seen in him even as he’d denied it. But the darkness now filling the room with steady persistence held his vocal cords captive, and he choked on its toxicity.
He clamped his jaw shut, doing his best to keep the darkness at bay, closed his eyes against the renewed barrage of both kinds of pain, and reached for Riley in his mind. It was time to see if his friend was powerful enough to reach him in the depths of his despair.
§
Mark stood next to the bed, unable to keep his impatience from manifesting, unable to keep still. Riley had arrived in minutes as he’d promised, a large book in his hand. His mother, Edie, and the Queen were with him, as was Ben, who Mark could only describe as broken. It was his expression, the tears he seemed to have stopped battling ages ago, and the fear radiating from him that had brought Mark’s selfishness to the fore.
Too lost in his own despair, he hadn’t thought of Caster’s family, of their grief. He glanced at Ben, who remained at Riley’s side, and the young Made-Vampire caught his eye,the understanding between them too great for words. Then he looked at the Queen, and her subdued smile gave him the strength to draw away from his grief only for a moment. He needed his remaining strength to help Riley anyway he could.
He kept a close eye on Riley as he opened the monstrosity of a book he’d brought with him. He hadn’t said anything since he walked in, but the extent of his power was unmistakable. If Riley were not here to help him, Mark would shrink away from it. His wolf didn’t seem bothered, which could only mean he’d come to trust Riley. Mark, in human form, was a lot slower to grant others his trust.
Riley’s sigh and the sudden surge in his power were enough to concern his mother, who gasped and stepped closer to her son.
He held up his hand. “He’s calling to me.”
“He is?” The Queen asked. Her words were on the tip of his tongue, but her excitement wasn’t something he expected to ever feel again, not if Caster remained out of reach.
Riley nodded, and this time, his sigh ended on a moan, signaling pain he tried to hold back. “Goddess, he’s insistent.” Then he took a breath, the effect of his power now palpable enough that Mark could almost taste it. He looked at Mark. “I need you.”
“Whatever you need.”
Riley’s nod was curt. He reached for Ben’s hand, squeezed it once, and released it. He placed the open book at the foot of the bed, his expression guarded as he stared at Caster’s immovable form. That grief he tried to hide seeped through, breaking the whispered words that flowed from his mouth. The whisper in alanguage Mark had never heard before flowed stronger with the second chant.
At the third chant, Riley extended his hands over Caster’s body, and a blue flame ignited on his skin. Mark could not contain his gasp, but when he looked at the women, the expressions of concern he’d expected looked more like pride.
Riley continued his chant, his hyper-focus on Caster’s form, and the blue flame grew to cover his entire body like a halo. This time, Mark glanced at Ben, hoping to find the shock he felt, only to find the same pride, tinged with a smidge of what he could only describe as subdued fear. The Made-Vampire stepped closer to Riley’s form, engulfed in the eerie blue flame, as Mark struggled to understand what was happening.
Riley turned to him, opened his eyes on the final chant, and he was unprepared for the sensation of staring into eyes that were ablaze. He extended his hand, and Mark hesitated.