Page 55 of Fallen Demon

I frowned, wondering if I should do anything at all, but I had come so far and his healing still seemed too slow for my taste. Since he was out of it, I prepared the thread and needle and sewed the gashes closed with a handful of knots each. It definitely wasn’t as neat or tight as stitches, but hopefully, they would help when his magic decided to act.

Then, I applied a great deal of Neosporin over the gashes and covered them with a thin layer of gauze and tape.

All the while, Levi groaned, hissed, and jerked a little, but he didn’t wake up.

When I was done, I sat back and let my shoulders sag.

Was there any possibility of infection? Again, I tried remembering he was a damn powerful demon and his healing should do what it had to do.

But how he got like this in the first place was beyond me.

I inhaled deeply, shook off the tension in my shoulders, and reached for the coffee. It was cold.

I held the cup with both hands, closed my eyes, and focused on my magic, finding it deep inside me, hiding and unwilling to cooperate. I teased it, coaxed it toward me, to let me reach for it. I didn’t need much for this, just a sliver. The magic opened up a tiny slit and I grabbed it tight. I concentrated the light magic on my palms and heated up the cup—and my coffee. Afterward, I dropped the magic and it recoiled fast and deep inside me, almost painfully.

Ungrateful bitch.

I forgot about it and looked at my coffee—steam rose from the black liquid. Great. Trying not to think of Levi too much, I grabbed a croissant and had breakfast.

But it was impossible not to think about him.

As I ate, he whimpered and jerked, looking way too vulnerable for a demon his size.

Hopefully, soon, he wouldn’t be a demon anymore. Well, not like this, at least. Soon, he would regain his memories, his feelings, and the ability to shift into his human form.

And together, we could plan on going after Ylena and saving Elysium.

I finished my croissant and my coffee, and even though I had been starving before, now I felt full and unsatisfied.

How long would it be before Levi was feeling better? What if other animals came back and my magic failed me?

Shaking my head, I stood. No, I couldn't do nothing. Whenever I tried that, my mind got away from me and I ended up in a worse place.

I needed to do something.

The dying fire behind Levi caught my attention. It was still cold—damn, I should have bought a thicker jacket when I went into town, but I was worried about a certain demon—and only angels knew how long we would stay here.

I walked the perimeter of our “camp,” careful to take a wide berth past the mountain lions’ bodies, and gathered firewood. I took my time since there was no rush—Levi was sleeping, I had nothing to do, and walking was exercise.

Thirty minutes later, I placed the firewood on the fire, hoping it would be enough to ignite it. But it wasn’t. Like I did with my cup, I focused on my shitty magic and sent a small spark of light to the fire. It crackled and sizzled, almost as if it wanted to sting me, but at least it worked. The fire restarted and as it spread to the wood, it grew bigger and hotter.

I leaned into it, glad for the warmth. I had been trying to forget it was so cold.

For the next thirty minutes, I sat beside Levi and the fire and tried working on my magic. I reached for it, tried to hold it, to command it, to mold it, but it was stubborn as hell. Several times, I grunted in frustration and thought about giving up.

But I wasn’t a quitter, and I needed my magic.

Levi grunted and I stared at him. He opened his eyes for two seconds, then closed them again, and groaned. He reached for his middle and touched over the now closed wound.

“What did you do?” His voice was rough, parched, and still he sounded angry.

“What didyoudo?” I gestured toward the mountain lions. “Decided to join a brawl?”

With a jerk, Levi sat up and stared at the mountain lions. “Nothing else came?”

“No,” I said. He relaxed but groaned as he lay down again, his eyes closed. “You didn’t go far. When you saw the animals were getting too close to me, you intervened.” I paused. “And when you saw I was cold, you warmed me.”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t open his eyes, he barely moved. That was answer enough and it sent a jolt of hope through my chest. He cared, which meant the feeling was there. I had to find it and make him acknowledge it. Then perhaps he would remember.