I kept walking toward her, but as I did, I reached for power, and it came, welling up out of the ground, descending from the skies, crackling and bleeding out of every electrical impulse around me. I formed it into a ball of luminescent poison green and threw it like a fast-ball, straight for her face.
She tried to bat it aside, but it dodged, even quicker than a Djinn, and detonated against her torso in a hot flare that knocked her completely down. I reached up into the troubled skies and rubbed water and air molecules together, gathering static into a massive potential energy that turned the clouds black and green.
Then I flipped the polarization of the molecules in the ground, then the air above her, clicking over the changes faster and faster until the circuit was open . . .
. . . And lightning struck in a thick, burning column, pinning her down. Rahel’s body convulsed and dissolved into mist. Not dead—you can’t kill a Djinn like that—but seriously inconvenienced. Even a Djinn has a safety overload, and I’d just burned it right out with those three consecutive strikes.
She’d be back, but not for a while.
I looked around and remembered the power I’d gathered overhead as the sky snarled and rumbled. I reached up and bled the energy back out, slowly, distributing it in a soft, gentle rain that sluiced the blood and dust from my skin. I was still full of power—stuffed with it—but I knew how to let it slowly sink back down into the waiting, silent ground.
A final sigh, and I opened my eyes.
And collapsed.
Ow.
The concrete wasn’t a soft landing, and I realized that my body had simply failed after conducting that much power, energy, and adrenaline. I was shaking now as the tide of hormones receded in my bloodstream and left me feeling human, and vulnerable, again.
I was also hurting. A lot. I looked down at my arm, which was bleeding from deep cuts, and thought, I need to do something about that. It took me a long minute to remember the first aid kit that I’d salvaged from the office. It, and the guns, had been in a bag in my motel room.
I rolled up to my knees, then to my feet, cut off the rain and dried myself off with another burst of power—not so much eliminating the moisture from my skin and hair as moving it somewhere else. Balance. Ma’at.
The sight of the motel was appalling. It was a ruin, barely recognizable as the cheap building we’d arrived at just an hour ago. My room, at least, still had a partial wall standing, though the roof had been yanked off and tossed twenty feet away in a jumble of broken wood and shingles.
Cherise’s and Kevin’s rooms were worse.
Cherise and Kevin. The kid.
It came to me in a physical shock. In the press of adrenaline, fighting for my own life, I’d forgotten about them, but now it came dreadfully clear.
I had my powers back.
Cherise had been harboring my powers, and there was only one reason for those powers to pull away from her and go in search of someone else—if Cherise was no longer a living vessel for them. And I was the only one left standing.
Oh God, no.
I forgot all about the wound on my arm and ran to the mass of broken blocks that was where I remembered Cherise’s room to be. “Cher!” I screamed, and started throwing rubble aside, searching. “Cherise!”
I heard something soft, like a kitten, and stopped to listen. Far corner, under yet another mound of debris—but under the debris was a mattress. She’d done as I had; she’d grabbed the mattress and ducked under it for cover. Yes. Yes, it was going to be okay. . . .
I cleared the rubble off the filthy, broken mattress and pitched it away, heaving with all my strength.
Under it, Cherise lay motionless, with her body half covering the toddler she’d rescued. Tommy. He was the one making the mewling sounds, and when light hit him and he saw me, he let out a full-throated howl of panic and pain. I turned Cherise over enough to pull him out, and checked him with trembling hands. He was bruised, but I couldn’t find any broken bones. She’d protected him.
She’d protected him with her body, and her life.
“Cher,” I whispered, and smoothed her bloodied hair back from her face. “Oh, no, sweetie. No, no, no. You can’t do this to me. You can’t.”
She’d been badly battered by the falling wall, even with the mattress for protection, and I saw the unnatural shape of her legs where they’d been broken and twisted. Her face was oddly unmarked, except for a spot or two of blood. I could almost hear her laughing and saying, I always knew I’d die pretty.
“No,” I said flatly. “You’re not dying on me, bitch. Not happening.”
I saw a flicker inside of her, a golden tongue of fire that hadn’t yet gone out. She wasn’t dead . . . but she was dying. No breath, no heartbeat, and her cells were burning up the last of their energy and shutting down.
I put Tommy down, dragged Cherise flat, and began CPR. I imbued every pump of my hands on her chest, every breath I blew into her slack mouth, with Earth power, giving her body an artificial jump-start of energy for those starving cells until I could get the rest going again. It was exhausting, sweaty work, but I wasn’t going to give up. She was there. Cherise was still alive, buried under the broken rubble of her own body, and she needed me.
The Earth power saturating her body formed a link to me, reporting back on all that it found wrong inside my friend. It wasn’t good. It was going to take a lot to bring her back, and even more to restore her to anything like health.
I needed someone like Lewis, someone who had the gift, the fine and delicate touch of healing. But all I had was me, and I would have to be enough.
I started with the worst of it—ruptured spleen, damaged liver, torn internal blood vessels that were flooding her with blood and compressing her lungs. A depressed skull fracture that had driven splinters of bone into fragile tissue.
Each of those took time, and massive concentration and energy. The skull fracture was the worst and most delicate, and when I’d finally coaxed out the bone splinters and dissolved them, and repaired the damage, I had very few reserves of power left.
But I couldn’t stop. Her legs needed healing fast, or she’d lose them. I moved down her body and made sure she was kept unconscious as I moved the broken pieces, aligned them, and started binding them together in golden strips of power, spiraling up the structure and holding it together. The power sank slowly into the bone and fused it together—not strong, yet, but set.
Then I let her come up from the dark, leading her slowly and gently back to the light.
Cherise opened her eyes with a choking gasp, coughed, and stared blindly up at the sky for a few seconds before her pupils contracted and focused on my face.
“Tommy?” she asked. I pulled the toddler over. He was still whimpering, but at the sight of Cherise’s smile he waved his hands and smiled back.
“He’s fine,” I said. “Cher, don’t try to get up. Stay down, let your body adjust, okay? I have to put some braces on your legs.”
“My legs?” She looked confused, then alarmed. “Oh my God, what happened to my legs?”
“They were broken,” I said. “I fixed them, but you’re going to have to watch it for a while. The braces are just to keep you from banging into things, twisting, that kind of thing.” I tried to get up, but my body wouldn’t do it. It just—refused. Okay, sitting was good. I was all right with a little rest, I supposed. I reached out and pulled over a couple of broken pieces of wood, wrapped each one in sheets from the bed, and wrapped the whole thing around her right leg, then repeated my construction project for the left.
Cherise said, in a very small voice, “I don’t feel good anymore. Not like I did.”
“I know.” That energy, humming and snapping through my body, was something that I’d never known I had, really, until it was gone. I could understand how Cherise felt, to have been given that gift, and then to lose it.