Wild is the Witch (72)

“You tried,” she says. “That’s all any of us can do.”

Cassandra has seen amplifiers die. Part of her work is caring for them in the wild, tracking their behaviors, and that means seeing them as they leave this life. Her voice is heavy with the experience of it.

“Help will be here soon,” she says, and I nod, finding anything else too difficult.

She sits with me in silence, every so often checking my burns and turning around to make sure Pike is stable. I want to talk to him, to explain about Cassandra and her work with amplifiers, but I don’t have the energy. I don’t have the words. I want to reach out and touch him, to hold his hand so he knows I’m here, but he’s too far away.

“He’s okay,” Cassandra says, pushing her palm over my hand, forcing me to rest. I didn’t realize I’d been reaching for him. “There’s no infection and the bleeding is minimal. He’ll be fine once the bone is set.”

“That’s good,” I say, keeping my eyes closed. I want to sleep, but I can’t get comfortable. There are burns everywhere, and even Cassandra’s magic isn’t enough to take the pain away. But she’s made it bearable, and for that I’m grateful.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, my voice weak.

“Me too.” She’s being gentle in a way I haven’t seen since before Amy’s trial, and it breaks something loose inside me, thinking how that trial became a demarcation in so many lives. In Amy’s and Cassandra’s and mine.

If she can sense that Pike is a mage, she doesn’t let on to it, doesn’t say anything that would indicate she knows. I want to ask her why she isn’t bringing it up, why she isn’t berating me over putting Pike in the same position as Alex, myself in the same position as Amy.

But everything hurts, and I don’t have the energy to ask.

I don’t say anything else, letting the quiet of the afternoon wrap around me and keep me calm until search and rescue arrives.

Pike asks how I’m doing several times, and even though his voice is strained, even though he sounds angry and helpless and defeated, he still asks. And that means something.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice hoarse and soft. I’m not sure if Pike hears me, if I said the words loud enough to reach him, but then I feel a pressure on my foot and open my eyes. I lift my head just enough to see Pike’s arm stretching out to me, resting on my shoe. Then as quickly as it happens, he pulls his hand away.

I lean back, drifting in and out. The pressure was so slight, my vision so cloudy. Maybe it didn’t happen at all.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when I finally hear footsteps in the distance. Cassandra stands and walks toward the sound. There’s lots of hushed discussion, but I can’t make out the words. The sun goes down, blanketing the woods in a blue-gray sky, and I think I see a bat flit overhead.

Rescuers come over with a long metal basket and tell me their names before easing me into it. They do the same for Pike, then walk us out of the thick of the forest and down the trail single file. I hate that I can’t see him, can’t see the expression on his face or if he’s in pain. Can’t see if he’s okay. Pike’s entire world changed in an instant, and he’s lying in a cold metal basket surrounded by strangers.

I wince with each step, the burns on my back digging into the metal, but Cassandra’s magic helps. She follows us for a while but then breaks away, and I suspect she goes to pack up our campsite.

I open my eyes and watch as the sky turns from twilight to night, as the stars appear overhead. I marvel at all the magic in empty spaces that so few people can sense, and I know I’ll do everything I can to help Pike love his magic. I hope he’ll be awed by it the same way I am, think it’s the coolest thing in the world the way he did as a child. I hope that one day, he won’t look back on this trip with unimaginable regret.

“Almost there,” the woman at my feet says, then I feel my basket level off as they step off the trail.

There are two ambulances waiting, and my chest aches as Pike is put into his, wishing I could go with him. The thought of him in there, by himself, makes my whole body hurt, and I fight back the tears stinging my eyes. I strain to see him as I’m carried past the back door, lifting my head and craning my neck, but I can’t catch a glimpse of him. I say his name but he doesn’t hear, and I force myself to stay put, to resist jumping out of this basket and rushing toward him.

I did this to him, though. He wouldn’t want me in the back of that ambulance any more than he’d want the witch who scammed his family in attendance at his brother’s funeral. The thought knocks the wind out of me.

I close my eyes as I’m hoisted into the second ambulance, and when the doors are just about to shut, I hear my mom’s voice.

“Wait!” she says, climbing into the back at the last second.

“Mom?” I ask, no longer able to stop my tears. I try not to shake with the relief of seeing her, the burns hurting worse and worse as Cassandra’s magic wears off, but I can’t help it.

“Sarah’s here too, honey. She’s riding with Pike.” I nod because my throat is aching, because it feels impossible to speak. There are so many things I need to say.

She sits down and grabs my hand, looking me over. “Oh, baby girl, what happened?” Her eyes are wet and gentle, and I grip her hand, so thankful she’s here.