Wild is the Witch (69)

“Maybe I can get back there again,” he says.

And with that, I heave the curse at Pike, forcing it through the stream of magic and directly into his chest. Pike’s whole body convulses, trying to reject the curse, but I hold it firmly in place. He screams, and it takes everything within me not to let go and rush to his side, not to let the curse fly back to the owl, forgotten.

My arms are shaking and tears are streaming down my face, but I keep my hold on the curse. Steady.

The curse writhes inside him, and I feel as it takes hold of his body, as its tendrils wrap around his heart and lungs, as it enters his bloodstream and makes its way to his brain.

Then in one sudden motion, it lunges for his mind and flips the switch.

On.

Pike gasps as he’s flooded with the sense, his entire world expanding in the span of a single breath, a single heartbeat. His body stops convulsing and he falls eerily silent.

There is not a single sound, not from Pike or me or the owl. Not from the trees or the wind or the animals that live in these woods.

Nothing.

Then Pike takes a ragged breath, and the magic around him flits to life.

It’s over.

I drop my hands and scramble to his side, crawling through the dirt, feeling my way to him. I whimper from the pain, from the way my clothing rubs up against the burns on my skin, from the gash on my knee getting bigger.

“Pike,” I say, reaching his side, putting my hand on his arm, “I need you to talk to me. How do you feel?”

At first he says nothing, but he doesn’t flinch at my touch or push me away. He stays perfectly still, breathing in the silence.

“It’s…everywhere,” he finally says, his voice a mix of wonder and despair.

As soon as he speaks, the forest wakes back up. The wind begins to blow, rushing through branches and colliding with my skin. Animals flit across the ground and up the trunks of trees, and birds sing in the distance.

The space around Pike pulses with energy, getting hotter and hotter by the second. That’s when I realize how much magic he’s pulling, drenching himself in it. It’s too much.

“Pike, stop pulling,” I say quickly, trying to get his attention. He doesn’t hear me, though. His eyes are closed, and he’s drawing in magic as if it’s water and he hasn’t drank in days.

I shake his shoulders and get in his face. “Pike, listen to me. If you don’t stop, you will incinerate yourself, just like I told you. Stop pulling.”

Pike begins to tremble, and his skin heats up, so quickly I feel the change in temperature through his shirt. But he doesn’t stop.

“Pike!” I scream.

His eyes snap open and he looks at me, wild and scared, tears brimming over his lashes. “I can’t stop,” he says, his voice rough and fast, as if it took everything he has to speak.

I try to form the words to help, tell him what to do to make him stop. But I’ve had magic my whole life, and everything about it is intuitive to me. It would be like trying to explain how to make my heart beat—I don’t know how to do it, it just happens.

“Okay,” I say, moving closer to him. “Tell me where your magic wants to go. Do you feel the strongest pull to the owl, to the trees, or to me?”

“What? I don’t know,” he says through his teeth. His eyes are squeezed shut and his whole body is shaking.

“Focus, Pike! Tell me what you feel the strongest pull to.”

His eyes open and lock on mine. “You,” he says in a rush. “You.”

I try to ignore the way I feel that single word in my core, the way it awakens something in me that I can’t want, can’t even hope for.

“Concentrate on me. Direct all your energy to me, all your intention. If I’m what you’re focused on, the magic will follow.”

“I can’t do it,” he says, panting, his voice tense with pain. “I can’t turn it off.”

“You don’t have to,” I say quickly. “Just redirect it.”

His skin is turning red, and I know we’re out of time. With all my energy, I take in a heaving breath and pull his magic away from him. My skin lights up as new burns appear, and silent tears stream down my face as I try my best to help him.

“Let your magic flow toward me. Just let it happen. Open your eyes and look at me,” I say, gritting my teeth and pulling as hard as I can. “Right here.”

Pike’s eyes meet mine, and I beg him to understand, beg him to stop fighting me. We watch each other, breathless and hurting and panicked. With every ounce of strength I have left, I pull his magic away, claw at it and demand its attention, pulling it toward me with a strength I didn’t know I had. Then something in him snaps and his eyes widen as his magic rushes toward me in an onslaught of fire and heat.

I cry out in pain and fall back on the ground, the cool, damp earth catching me. Then all at once, it’s gone. Pike stops pulling, and so do I. I try to force myself up, but I can’t move. My breaths come in quick, shallow gasps and my heart slams into my ribs. My eyes roll back, catching the light of the sun as they do.

“Iris?” Pike says, dragging himself closer to me. “It worked.” His voice threatens to break.

I try to speak, but I can’t force the words from my mouth. It feels like the whole world is on fire, but when I look around, I see the shadow of the trees and Pike hovering over me. I see infinite shades of green and sunlight catching on raindrops.