Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(46)

She began to cry, to laugh, to sob, and bent over, holding her stomach.

“What the …” Beck’s voice reached her before she registered the warmth of his magick and the coolness of the fog. “Morgan, what did you do?”





Chapter Seventeen





The beautiful fire witchling couldn’t respond. She wept and giggled, shaking hard enough he assumed she’d either been injured or had fallen completely into madness.

But it was the body before her that held his attention. The scent nauseated him, and all he could determine from the frame of the person on the ground was that it probably belonged to a male by its height. His features were gone, melted like a doll left on a stove.

He knelt and placed a hand on the body, immediately summoning his healing powers. “Morgan, what have you done?” he whispered again. Everything he had learned thus far about Morgan needing to turn Light to help him and the Light beat against his thoughts harder than his heart did his chest. Beck wasn’t able to move, frozen by the idea he was witnessing the act that not only condemned her, but the Light as well.

And for what? Why? What the hell had she done? Didn’t she understand the importance of trying to become Light, so they could be together if nothing else?

Or … had something happened? Had she acted out of self-defense?

Please let it be self defense.

“Heal … him …” she gasped out.

His concern for her took a backseat to his duty, and he focused on channeling his earth magick and Light into the man.

What remained of the man’s skin was stuck to his hands, and Beck resisted the urge to bend over and vomit everything he’d eaten in the past ten years. He glanced at Morgan, who was struggling to compose herself, beginning to wonder if he had been wrong about her all along, that the goodness he saw in her was his own hope and didn’t really exist. He had made that mistake with Dawn.

No. Not my Morgan. The doubt fled despite the evidence before him. Whatever happened, there was an explanation, and it was one that would exonerate Morgan.

He was healing faster than ever before, but he still feared losing the life depending on him. He had faced down the Dark Witchlings while standing on the Light source. Was his magic stronger there?

Morgan was starting to cry.

“It’s okay, Morgan. I promise. I’m a little … worried,” he whispered. “He might heal faster if I’m at the Light source. I’m going to take him there and I’ll be back for you. Okay?”

She didn’t respond.

Beck touched the man before him once more and ordered his fog to sweep them away.

Seconds later, it cleared, and they were back at the school, him and the mushy, charred remains of whomever Morgan had burnt to a crisp. He trusted the magick to take him where he wanted, and they’d been dropped off in the Square, the courtyard area surrounded on three sides by school buildings where the witchlings often had class, picnics and bonfires.

Beck summoned Light and earth magick instinctively and bottled it until he was burning up from the inside before thrusting it into the form beneath his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed through his mouth, wanting to purge his nose of the smell that left him gagging. The earth rumbled beneath them, its low whisper turning to a thunderous groan. Beck didn’t stop the body from pulling at his magick, instead making every ounce of himself and his Light available to it.

He watched in his mind as muscles repaired themselves and skin grew and stretched over the man. He didn’t care who it was at the moment; he only wanted to prevent Morgan from becoming a murderer, from being sentenced to the Dark or worse, to discover Decker was coming to kill her.

Sweat dripped down his face, and he drew off more magick than he ever had before. At last, Beck sat back on his heels, breathing hard and terrified it wasn’t enough to save Morgan let alone the man before him.

The naked form before him was mostly repaired. There was scarring in places, some of which was disappearing as his magick continued working on him while others appeared to be permanent. All the hair was gone from his body along with one toe. With some disappointment, Beck realized neither was something he could fix.

“Noah,” Beck breathed, surprised. Of all the people Morgan might enflame, Noah wasn’t on the list. Unless something happened. He checked Noah’s vitals and pulled off his sweater to cover his naked groin. “Hey.” He nudged the water witchling. “Wake up, Noah.”

The boy took a wheezing breath and opened lashless-eyes. He stared at the night sky before lifting his healed arms to stare at them in disbelief.

“You did it,” he said in a rough voice.

“Kept you alive?” Beck sat back, relieved and irritated, wanting to face Morgan but almost afraid to discover she had gone Dark.

“Where am I?”

“The school.” Beck wiped his face, his tension replaced by exhaustion as he realized Noah was going to live. He motioned to the schoolhouse a few feet away.

“What?” Noah sat up.

“School.” Beck repeated. “What the hell is going on?”

Noah looked around as if he’d never been there before.

“Please don’t tell me I scrambled your brain,” Beck muttered. “Noah! What happened? Why did Morgan burn you to a crisp? Did you do something to her?”

Noah reached up to feel his face and rubbed his bald head. To Beck’s surprise, Noah laughed.