sleeves of his black sweater. He’d seen enough. If he didn’t move in now, Calliope would be completely tapped. He pushed his shadows away and waded through the makeshift beds until he stood behind her, his shins close enough to touch her back.
“You’ve done enough. Come rest.”
She rocked back on her heels, glanced up at him over her shoulder, and offered a weak smile. “I will soon. They need my help,” she said. “I’m okay.”
Krystoff huffed. “No you’re not. You’re practically a zombie.”
Calliope patted the knee of the young witch she currently attended to, and then stood to move on. “I look that bad, huh?” she asked and scanned the group, no doubt triaging her patients.
He wasn’t about to let her dismiss him. Krystoff followed closely, uncaring that several of the witches
tsk’d
at him as if he were a child. He did manage to offer a fangless and slightly condescending smile as he passed. One more
tsk
, though, and he couldn’t be held accountable.
“You look beautiful,” he said to Calliope. “And near dead.” In tune with her pulse, it appeared to Krystoff that even her blood flowed sluggishly through her veins. He rubbed the back of her neck with his thumb, felt the knots of tension in her tight muscles. Guilt had his own muscles bunching. The time to confess was on the horizon, though the repercussions didn’t appeal at all. “You need to sleep, refuel. You’ll be more help then.”
“As I said,” she replied through gritted teeth. “They need me now.”
He tipped his head. Obviously, she didn’t like anyone to interfere with her
duties
. “I understand. But I’m not opposed to using force, Calliope.” His voice had dropped to a volume meant only for Calliope to hear.
Her shoulders stiffened and she shifted away from his touch. “Don’t even think about it. I know my limits.” Calliope turned, sighed. “You barely know me at all.”
Shrugging, he said. “Not to worry. That will be rectified soon enough.” Krystoff stretched his arms and pointed his staff toward the morning sun that had his exposed skin tingling like fire ants had declared war. The sky darkened and the nearby shadows expanded, crept toward him with cat-like determination, a roiling sea of gloom.
Calliope glared, shook her head and pulled her jacket closed. She took two steps backward. More retreating steps followed. Krystoff held his ground and continued to work his magick. If she wouldn’t rest willingly, he’d use the shadows to knock her out. “My apologies in advance, angel. Isabelle and I will take over for awhile.”
“Damn you.”
Krystoff smirked as the shadows closed in, encasing them in a dark and chilly world. “I’m already damned. Anything more is redundant.” He stepped in the moment Calliope’s knees gave way.
• • •
Krystoff and Isabelle patrolled the perimeter in the afternoon sun while Calliope slept beneath the shade of a weeping willow. Krystoff kept one eye on her, anticipating the moment she woke up he’d be in for one hell of a fight, and one eye on the hills, expecting trouble in the form of Riona and her nasties. They were out there somewhere, lurking, waiting, biding their time. He’d long ago pulled down his sleeves and donned gloves in an attempt to ward off the effects of the sun, which were now merely uncomfortable as opposed to unbearable.
Isabelle, on the other hand, had exposed her skin to the hot beams by pulling her long hair into a haphazard bun that bobbed on the top of her head with every step she took. No wonder, considering her combat boots were too big and clunky for her string-bean legs.
“My shadows don’t seem to bother you. Why is that?” Krystoff slid his gaze sideways to study Isabelle, trying to understand what made her so different than Calliope. Not that he knew a lot about soothers, but it seemed to him that whatever drained one would drain another.
She lifted a shoulder. “Honestly? I think it’s because of my age.
“You’ve done enough. Come rest.”
She rocked back on her heels, glanced up at him over her shoulder, and offered a weak smile. “I will soon. They need my help,” she said. “I’m okay.”
Krystoff huffed. “No you’re not. You’re practically a zombie.”
Calliope patted the knee of the young witch she currently attended to, and then stood to move on. “I look that bad, huh?” she asked and scanned the group, no doubt triaging her patients.
He wasn’t about to let her dismiss him. Krystoff followed closely, uncaring that several of the witches
tsk’d
at him as if he were a child. He did manage to offer a fangless and slightly condescending smile as he passed. One more
tsk
, though, and he couldn’t be held accountable.
“You look beautiful,” he said to Calliope. “And near dead.” In tune with her pulse, it appeared to Krystoff that even her blood flowed sluggishly through her veins. He rubbed the back of her neck with his thumb, felt the knots of tension in her tight muscles. Guilt had his own muscles bunching. The time to confess was on the horizon, though the repercussions didn’t appeal at all. “You need to sleep, refuel. You’ll be more help then.”
“As I said,” she replied through gritted teeth. “They need me now.”
He tipped his head. Obviously, she didn’t like anyone to interfere with her
duties
. “I understand. But I’m not opposed to using force, Calliope.” His voice had dropped to a volume meant only for Calliope to hear.
Her shoulders stiffened and she shifted away from his touch. “Don’t even think about it. I know my limits.” Calliope turned, sighed. “You barely know me at all.”
Shrugging, he said. “Not to worry. That will be rectified soon enough.” Krystoff stretched his arms and pointed his staff toward the morning sun that had his exposed skin tingling like fire ants had declared war. The sky darkened and the nearby shadows expanded, crept toward him with cat-like determination, a roiling sea of gloom.
Calliope glared, shook her head and pulled her jacket closed. She took two steps backward. More retreating steps followed. Krystoff held his ground and continued to work his magick. If she wouldn’t rest willingly, he’d use the shadows to knock her out. “My apologies in advance, angel. Isabelle and I will take over for awhile.”
“Damn you.”
Krystoff smirked as the shadows closed in, encasing them in a dark and chilly world. “I’m already damned. Anything more is redundant.” He stepped in the moment Calliope’s knees gave way.
• • •
Krystoff and Isabelle patrolled the perimeter in the afternoon sun while Calliope slept beneath the shade of a weeping willow. Krystoff kept one eye on her, anticipating the moment she woke up he’d be in for one hell of a fight, and one eye on the hills, expecting trouble in the form of Riona and her nasties. They were out there somewhere, lurking, waiting, biding their time. He’d long ago pulled down his sleeves and donned gloves in an attempt to ward off the effects of the sun, which were now merely uncomfortable as opposed to unbearable.
Isabelle, on the other hand, had exposed her skin to the hot beams by pulling her long hair into a haphazard bun that bobbed on the top of her head with every step she took. No wonder, considering her combat boots were too big and clunky for her string-bean legs.
“My shadows don’t seem to bother you. Why is that?” Krystoff slid his gaze sideways to study Isabelle, trying to understand what made her so different than Calliope. Not that he knew a lot about soothers, but it seemed to him that whatever drained one would drain another.
She lifted a shoulder. “Honestly? I think it’s because of my age.
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