The Summoner

Chapter 10: Healing

It was dark.

That was the first thing Kaylen noticed. The second was the buzzing. Her head ached too much for it to be self-inflicted. She'd never hurt this bad before. Not even when she foolishly agreed to a drinking game with a demon. Brekk spent the following morning lecturing her on poor life choices, and she never touched Bavarian ale again.

She groaned and the vibrating ceased. After a moment it resumed. Something cool cradled her face, and she blinked startled to realize it was only dark because her eyes were closed.

For several seconds amethyst consumed her vision. She blinked again and her eyes focused. Kylihr stared down at her, face lined with worry, and she could see his lips moving. The vibrating buzz happened whenever he spoke. She could feel it because her head was in his lap.

"Kaylen."

She recognized the shape of her name on his lips, but she couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear anything but the buzzing hum.

"Are you okay?"

She frowned. She thought she was – aside from the headache driving into her skull and her inability to hear. But she got the feeling that that wasn't entirely true.

She shifted her head to make it easier to look at Kylihr and pain stabbed along her spine. It stole her breath, and she gasped instinctively holding still.

Kylihr's lips formed her name again, but she was too busy trying to suppress the panic. She panted shallow breaths. The shock of pain curled along her spine: a dull throb in her arms, legs, and chest that built the more lucid she became and boy oh boy was this going to hurt in about thirty seconds.

She tried to wiggle her fingers and whined as bolts of lightning shot through her nerves. The left hand was excruciating, so she stopped moving that side, but her right was manageable. She could feel the vibration as Kylihr tried to tell her something, but she couldn't hear the sound.

That wasn't normal. Something was broken there too she just didn't have the focus to figure out what. Pain built, morphing from the dull pounding to the beginnings of white hot agony, and she knew she didn't have much time. She caught Kylihr's gaze and held it.

"Cut my right palm." She forced her lips to form the words, but she couldn't hear to know if she'd gotten volume behind them. She couldn't even be sure she said what she meant to!

Sweat rolled from her brow and stung her eyes. She blinked it away refusing to drop Kylihr's gaze. He had to understand! He had to help her, because she wasn't sure she'd survive otherwise. Her gaze bore into his. He frowned, and hopelessness crashed over her as she realized he didn't understand.

She gritted her teeth and tried again this time reaching through the contract that bound them.

Cut my right palm, she thought and infused the words with her desperate need.

Kylihr's gaze dropped to her hand then flicked to her eyes. His features were scrunched in wary confusion. After a moment's hesitation, he gripped her right hand. He looked at her, seeking confirmation, and she nodded shallowly. The movement made her nauseous.

Something sharp pressed into her palm and she felt her skin splitting. Funny how, under so much other pain, she could feel the cut so cleanly. Kylihr waited, expectant, but she was busy trying to make her body obey.

Tugging her hand from his hold she inched it along her side slipping it under her shirt and working it inside her waistband. She paused as she felt the raised skin at her hip. Fear and doubt and a desperate desire not to do this took hold, and she jerked her bleeding palm across the brand before her courage failed.