Page 60 of Avalon Tower
I follow after them, but my muscles feel frozen. I’m shivering violently, my body bitten by the cold. The glacial air pierces my body down to my marrow.
“Nia, let’s go!” Raphael shouts.
My muscles are ice. An arrow from beyond the veil zooms by, inches from my face. “Go!” I shout through clattering teeth.
Raphael rushes back and scoops me up, pressing me against his firm chest. Enfolding me in his arms, he starts to run. Up ahead, Freya is covering him, unleashing one arrow after another into the misty veil.
As we reach the shelter of the forest, I’m shivering against Raphael’s chest.
He slows once we get out of range. “You’re freezing,” he mutters.
“I used too much magic.” And yet, my body feels boiling now, flushed. “But I’m not cold anymore.” I want to take my dress off. “I’m too hot.”
“You’re going into hypothermia.” He raises his eyes, and the rising sunlight catches them as they spark gold. “Freya, wait. She lost too much heat. We need help. Now.”
The world shimmers and fades for a moment. When I open my eyes again, it’s just Raphael. Golden light dapples his high cheekbones. He’s leaning against a tree, holding me close.
My eyes drift shut again, and I’m not sure if I’ll manage to wake, but I don’t mind either way. He’s carrying me against his broad chest now, moving swiftly, like I don’t weigh a thing.
What a strange thing to feel safe with Raphael.
It stirs a memory from long ago, something I’d tried to forget.
CHAPTER 19
The world is rocking up and down, pitching like a ship. Violently.
I try to open my eyes, but it’s too much effort. Ice slides through my bones, my blood. So cold. My body shudders, shaking like a dying leaf in the wind.
A voice rings in my thoughts, the sometimes violent sensualist. I will taste you. Wrap your thighs around me. In a dark, consuming flame, we will burn, a comet in the sky.
No violence tonight, then. I sink into oblivion.
I’m in Los Angeles, in my childhood bed, surrounded by my stuffed animals. My head feels hot, my throat burns. I just woke from a terrible nightmare, one of a man with black hair and a spiked crown standing before me, a sword in his hand.
My room looks scarier than usual, with shadows climbing over the walls. I don’t know if the man from my nightmare is hiding in one of them. A cough racks my chest. Panic crackles through me.
“Mom!” I scream.
Sometimes, she doesn’t come when I call. Sometimes, she’s not at home, especially when Dad goes away on work trips.
Now, I’m sure the evil king is lurking in my room, and I’m too sick to fight back. “Mom! Mom!”
Hot tears run down my cheeks. It’s hard to breathe. Something is wrong with my chest, and I can’t get enough air. When I cough, it’s a low, strange noise that sounds very wrong. My throat is closing up, and I’m sure I need a doctor. I want to go into the bathroom for medicine, but if I step onto the ground, the murderous king will grab my feet. Is he the one stealing my breath?
“Mom!” My throat aches when I scream, and no one is coming to help. “Dad!”
Children need looking after.
Someone’s tearing at my clothes, and I want to keep them on.
Voices float through the air.
“She’s not responding to my magic.” Raphael’s deep voice has a sharp edge to it. “I’m trying to heal her, but it’s not working.”
I open my eyes, but everything is blurry.
“I’ve taken most of her clothes off.” Freya’s voice pierces the air. “Warm her up, will you? I’m going to be sick again. But Raphael, I don’t think you should get your hopes up. She hasn’t practiced enough in moderating her magic use, and she unleashed all of it at once. No one can survive such a temperature drop.”