Cursed to the Bone

25. Winter Blues

November passed as fast as the wind that blew in on the Eastern front. It was the last fury of the hurricane season, and what little of it reached the Sages brought in boundless thunderstorms that clashed against the wards and created magnificent lightning shows as a result. We were perfectly safe on campus. Safe from lightning, that is. We had to face the rain with caution, using umbrellas, spells, and coats. Anything to make it to class.

The surreal dark skies and howling winds had me thoroughly distracted on Thursday morning. I sat in class with Naomi for Clerical magic. We were learning how to turn our magic into healing energy—something I seemed incapable of. The other students had already come and gone and it was almost noon.

Naomi eagerly attempted to show me how it was done. Again. One hand hovered over the self-inflicted scratch of the other, her index and middle fingers pointed lower than the others where a faint green glow lit. The scratch sealed together and faded until nothing remained but a scant line of blood.

"Now you." Naomi nudged an unused knife closer to me. It was so perilously sharp that just a little touch would be enough.

Wrapping my hand around the cool metal, I forced my sleeve up. No pressure. A tiny cut on the back of my wrist should be no problem.

"You may head out, Miss Morimoto. Miss Tate requires some extra assistance." I knew without looking that Killian Rhodes stood behind us.

Naomi glanced at me. "I can wait."

"She's distracted as it is. Please wait outside."

My stomach dropped. He wasn't going to let up. I nodded to Naomi, trying to be brave.

"Right." Naomi gathered her things and marched to the door, casting one last look before she left. The door slammed shut behind her as Killian willed it to, and he leaned down behind me. His arm wrapped around mine, taking my hand in one and the knife in the other. Without even the slightest hesitation, he stabbed the blade into my arm, deep to the bone.

"Professor!" I shrieked, the knife clattering on the table. I tried to squirm out of his grip but it was unrelenting. Panic tightened my throat. I didn't like the feeling of air against my bones. "It's too deep!"

"Shh." He brushed his fingers on my hand in tender circles. "You've skirted by long enough. Some tough love is in order. You know the process, Vera. Do it."

There were far too many distractions for that—namely him. A forceful wind whistled through the open windows, forcing the curtains to tangle in the air. I spared them a nervous glance before glaring at my arm. Blood gushed from the tear in my robe onto the table. I pressed a trembling hand to the wound to stop the bleeding.

"Focus!" he yelled, making me jump.

"Let go!"

"Not until you seal it."

Anger thrashed within. I didn't want to heal anything at that moment. I charged magic into my palm and grabbed his hand. A pop of lightning burst from my fingers and crackled over his flesh.

With a growl, his hold tightened. If he went any tighter, my bones would break and he'd try to get me to heal those, too. "Heal it."

Clenching my teeth, I touched trembling fingers to the wound and attempted to transform my magic into the healing kind. The green glow flickered in and out, vanishing at the next crash of thunder. "I can't!"

"You can."

A terrible idea formed—a hunch, if nothing else. Cupping my arm, I willed my blood to mend the flesh and seal the wound. It took a moment before I felt the thickening of my blood and the closing of the skin. I wiped the blood away, and though the flesh was tender, the wound was gone. And even though the action had been taken in spite, the swell of pride at my success was there. "Happy? It's sealed."