Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(87)

Heart attack.

“His time is up, Justine,” she heard Sage say in a choked voice. “He was warned—”

“No.” Justine grabbed wildly for the Triodecad, yanking it from the tote bag. “I’ll fix this. I’ll find the right spell. Just hang on, I’ll take care of it, I promise. I promise—” At least that was what she was trying to say, except the words were shuddery and cracked. She wasn’t aware that she was crying until she saw the heavy splats of water on the ancient pages, the ink blurring, her eyes swimming. Frantically she fumbled with the book, paper crumpling and ripping beneath her frenzied hands.

“Justine,” she heard Sage cry out in dismay. Some of the crafters began to move toward her.

“Stay away from me.” She stared at them with wild eyes, her hand extended in midair like a weapon.

She felt Jason touch her arm. Letting go of the Triodecad, she turned to him. His deep brown eyes stared into hers. Through the glaze of pain there was a quiet glow of understanding. He leaned closer to say something, and she steadied him with her arms.

His whisper was hot and gentle against her ear. “Never would’ve been enough time anyway.”

His head dropped to her shoulder, and his weight eased against her as he collapsed slowly into her arms. She breathed in the familiar and tantalizing scents of his skin and hair. His body was heavy and racked with shivers.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said desperately, screwing her eyes shut, racking her brain for any kind of spell, anything.

Jason’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head down to his. “Worth it,” he whispered.

She could feel the life pouring out of him as if from a sieve, even as she tried to contain it with her hands, her palms pressing on his chest, back, arms, head. “Don’t, don’t, don’t—”

“Kiss me.”

“No.” But she did, finding his mouth with hers, soft and warm, while her tears slipped onto his face, his closed eyes. His lips pulled in a grimace of pain, and her arms locked around him. She would hold him so tight that death couldn’t take him. She would keep him with her, harbor him inside herself.

One last breath, a quiet exhalation. The fingers in her hair unclenched, and his hand slid away, dropping to her lap. Time stopped, seconds caught and collided like raindrops in the cup of a leaf.

Easing him to the floor, Justine stared down at his expressionless face, the way his lashes lay against his cheeks, the gray tinge of his mouth. The force of a terrible energy built inside her, racing through bones, cartilage, nerves, blood. A wild pulse threatened to burst her veins. He would not disappear. She would hold him in the space between life and nothingness, she would keep him somewhere.

Her face streamed with sweat and tears. She put her hands to his chest. His body jolted as a shock of energy blazed through him. She heard the horrified exclamations of the coveners around them.

“Justine, no—”

Again and again, while she kept her hands on him and let the fatal voltage sear through them both. She heard Rosemary begging her to stop, it was no use, she would hurt herself. But no one dared come near … she and Jason were surrounded with blue-white energy, hot as the heart of a dying star. They had formed a circuit, fused and burning out bright and fast. Let him take her with him. Let her soul carry them both, so he could never leave her and she would never have to mourn.

She crawled over him, gripping his head in her hands, her mouth coming to his. The brilliance flared, followed by startling black.

No pulse, no sensation, no vibration of energy. Only the cry of her soul in the silent oblivion.

Where are you?

A force more powerful than gravity pulled her out of the darkness, drew her into a steep ascent, a billowing forward roll, love tumbling into love.

Here.

He was with her, impossibly, irrevocably.

And time began again.

Slowly she returned to herself, her eyes opening. She was aware of the coveners nearby, of the walls of the Crystal Cove schoolhouse, the flickering light of candles and glass lamps. But her attention was riveted on Jason, his still features, her hands pale brackets at the sides of his face. She said his name carefully.

His lashes lifted in the amber veil of lamplight, the dark irises soft and drowsing.

“I couldn’t let you go,” she said, stroking his cheek, the edge of his jaw.

He held her gaze, his eyes filled with wonder as he perceived what she already knew. “Something’s different,” he said hoarsely.

She nodded and lowered her forehead to his. “Somehow,” she whispered, “we’re sharing a soul. But I think half of it was yours all along.”

* * *

Something soft brushed her forehead. Justine ignored the feathery touch, trying to remain comfortably asleep. Another tender stroke, this one on her cheek. With an irritable sound, she turned to snuggle deeper into the fat, downy depths of her pillow.

“Justine.” A velvety murmur … Jason’s voice … his lips playing near her ear. “It’s almost noon. Wake up so I can talk to you.”

“Don’ want to talk,” she mumbled. Her exhausted brain sorted through memories of the previous night. What bizarre dreams she’d had … seeing Marigold, fearing for Jason’s life, racing to Crystal Cove …

Her eyes flew open, and she looked at the masculine face right above hers. Jason was propped up on one elbow, a faint smile on his lips. He was freshly showered and dressed, his face smooth-shaven. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” he said, his fingertips slowly following the shape of her collarbone to the curve of her shoulder. “I couldn’t stand it any longer.”