Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(98)

The shaking that seemed ready to rip Thomas apart lessened, but then transmitted itself from son into father. Now Maguire was the one who was screaming, with even greater volume and at a higher pitch than the son had done. Thomas now nearly glowed with a look of satisfaction, seeming to take no small pleasure in his father’s agony. Jilo watched in amazement as Thomas raised the pistol his father had handed him and put a bullet between his father’s eyes.

The fire fell away, draining from the earth, releasing Jilo with such force, it knocked her backward. “That’s my girl,” Thomas said, but somehow Jilo knew the man addressing her was not the son, but the father, looking out through the son’s eyes. Her eyes jumped to the gun, but he dropped the revolver onto the ground. He drew near, reaching out to offer a hand to help her stand.

She shook her head and crawled backward to get away from him, stopping only when she realized that she did, in fact, need his help. “What do I do?” She pushed herself up and ran to where Guy lay. “What do I do?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

“Just lay your hands on him. Will the magic into him. Will the Beekeeper to heal him. Her magic is now a part of you.”

She fell to her knees, positioning both hands on Guy’s chest, calling to the Beekeeper, praying to God. She had moved beyond any certainty about how this world worked. If there was a chance there was a God, she sure as hell wasn’t too proud to plead for mercy—at least not on Guy’s behalf. She looked down at Guy, but his chest was no longer moving. She placed her finger against his neck. There was no pulse. “You help me,” she screamed, calling out to the power she felt flowing through her. The same strange blue fire flooded out from her, enveloping Guy, lifting him several inches off the ground. But he remained still, unbreathing.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked back to see the veiled one, the Beekeeper, standing behind her. “It’s too late for that one. He belongs to my boy now,” the Beekeeper said. “You want this one back, you’re gonna have to make a deal with the Red King.”

“Yes. Yes,” she cried without giving the consequences a single thought. “Anything. I agree. What do I do? Just tell me.”

“You’ll have to take his mark.”

“Okay, I agree. I’ll take his mark.”

“But it’s not as easy as all that,” a deeper voice spoke. The odd man wearing the top hat appeared before her. “I don’t give up those I’ve won without a substitute.”

“A life for a life, dearie,” the Beekeeper said. “A life for a life.”

Jilo’s eyes shot up to where Maguire—now in Thomas’s body—stood before her. “Yes,” she said, “I can honor that deal.” Maguire began backing away, shock and terror filling his eyes as it dawned on him for the first time how quickly, after hundreds of years, the balance of power could shift.

Jilo released Guy from the web of energy she had woven around him, his body drifting to the ground like a descending leaf. She raised her hands toward Maguire. The flames, a beautiful cerulean, began to change, purplish and indigo bruises rising up in them. As their color shifted to the deep blue of midnight, they grew sharp, forming themselves into tiny daggers, barbed candles that seemed to swallow the light around them rather than add to it. She was ready to strike, ready to consume this foolish monster with the fire, but a shot rang out. Maguire’s hand went up to his chest, then he slumped over onto the ground.

Her head jerked to the side. She was astounded to see Tinker standing there, Maguire’s own revolver in his hand. Tinker’s temple was bruised and swollen, but he was alive. And Maguire lay dead, the thirsty gray soil swallowing his life’s blood. “I heard what you said about that mark,” Tinker said, dropping the gun and drawing near the Red King. “I think it should be mine.”

“And so it is,” the Red King grasped Tinker’s wrist, encircling it with his thumb and middle finger. Jilo could smell the charring of flesh as the Red King burned his mark into Tinker’s skin, but Tinker didn’t flinch. He just stood there, focused on her, as if the mere sight of her was all he needed to carry him through the pain. She knew in that moment that it was not some silly infatuation this man held for her. He loved her. Plain and simple.

The Red King released Tinker, and Tinker crossed to where Guy’s body lay.

“How do I do this?” he asked the Red King.

“You only have to want it. Are you sure you do?”

“She wants it,” Tinker replied. “That’s enough.”

“Then it is done.”

The ground beneath their feet trembled. A flash of lightning fell from the sky, striking Guy’s body right in his solar plexus. Guy began coughing, moaning.

“Hurry, my daughter,” the Beekeeper’s voice sang out. “Repair the damage before he slips away again.” Jilo returned to Guy’s side, once again willing the cocoon of healing aqua light to form around him. “I will see you again. Soon,” the Beekeeper called, causing Jilo’s gaze to rise to the veiled face. Her image vibrated, blinking in and out, then in the next instant, both the Beekeeper and the Red King faded away.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she said, not to these unworldly creatures, but to Tinker, the words repeating themselves as she knelt beside Guy and laid her hands on him. This time the magic took hold, healing his ravaged features and realigning them into their usual handsome configuration. His eyes opened. Jilo leaned in and placed a kiss on his brow.