Page 140 of Endless Terrors
Hope surged through me. We had lent each other strength before, hadn’t we? Why couldn’t I give it to him now?
From the corner of my eye, I saw Gil’s narrow frame in the doorway. He must’ve left Adam’s when he felt my distress. There was no time to greet him or explain what had happened. I closed my eyes, concentrating harder on the magic that connected all of us. I spent precious seconds waiting for my instincts to kick in. For some kind of knowledge to come to me. But nothing happened.
There hadn’t been any kind of manual or guidebook to the innate workings of this spell, so I did everything I could think of. I mentally grasped the bond and imagined Finn’s wound closing. I chanted under my breath. “Heal. Heal. Heal. Live, Finn.”
The threads from my wolf’s side of the bond didn’t respond. They were glowing more weakly now. Then they started to flicker in my mind.
A frustrated sound burst from me. I sat back on my heels and bit back a scream. “Fuck. I can’t do it.”
Laurie knelt on the other side of Finn, his hand dangling off one knee. “Do what?”
“Heal him.” I made a sharp gesture toward Finn. “Or make him heal himself, I don’t know. I’m still new at this!”
“Even magic has its limits, Fortuna,” Laurie said, his voice gentle.
For some reason, his calm tone only agitated me more. My mind raced. I tried to think of everything I knew about bonds and magical ties. I reviewed my own experiences with them. My thoughts halted on a memory.
There was something Collith had done, once, when I’d been mated to him. It seemed possible to replicate it with Finn …
At first, my gut instinct was to reject the idea. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to save Finn. But what if it was all I could do for him?
Zara wasn’t here yet. If she hadn’t arrived by now, she probably wouldn’t come in time. Savannah couldn’t sift, and even if Laurie found her in the next five seconds, she wouldn’t reach us soon enough, either. I closed my eyes again and forced myself to take several deep, ragged breaths. Oh, God. I was really going to do this. I was really accepting that Finn was slipping through our hands.
But I couldn’t let him be in pain. Not while there was something I could try to ease it.
My hands crept forward again. I rested them on Finn’s arm, then curled my fingers around it as I blocked out the rest of the world. The bonds of the Shadow Court lit up inside me, and I reached for the one that belonged to my wolf, thinking only of how much I loved him.
The feeling was so powerful that I could see it, suddenly, twining through Finn’s bond and everyone else’s, too. A soft light that only added to the brightness of the threads. I concentrated on my desire to ease Finn’s pain, and the memory of how Collith had once used our old bond.
This time, whatever I did worked.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a fishing boat.
It bobbed in the middle of a small lake, which was perfectly round and lined with thick trees. Sunlight glimmered on the water. There were only two cabins visible, both with long docks that reached out from a distant shore. I slowly turned on the bench, and it felt like my heart was holding its breath.
Finn sat next to me.
He squinted in the bright light, and there was a fishing pole in his hand. And even though everything about the werewolf was familiar and dear, right down to the subtle crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, this was a version of my friend I’d never seen before. He filled out the plaid shirt he wore, and there were fewer lines on his face. The way he held himself was different, too. I stared at him for another moment, then finally put my finger on it—he wasn’t looking for any threats. My Finn always had his guard up.
“Where are we?” he asked, though I could tell from his expression that he knew. Full of wondering, Finn’s gold eyes moved around as if everything was about to disappear.
Then I remembered that it was.
“Your favorite place,” I said softly, hiding a pang of agony. “I’m using our bond.”
Finn looked out at the lake again. His expression was as calm as ever, and he held the fishing pole loosely. “I used to take my family here. My father owned a small cabin across the way. It’s gone now, but I remember being on the water. Sitting in this rusty fishing boat and listening to the loons while we cast our lines.”
Finn’s voice sounded different, somehow, as he recounted the memory. Not as if he were younger, exactly, but less … burdened. Like none of the terrible things that followed those days on the water had happened.
Some of those terrible things wouldn’t have happened to Finn if he hadn’t stayed in my life. What if I’d done the right thing, the smart thing, and sent him away once he was free of Astrid? Guilt swelled in my throat and made it difficult to say the things I wanted to say. The things I needed to say.
What-ifs were useless. There was no time for useless.
I shoved the guilt down and refocused on Finn, clearing my throat. I was about to speak into the stillness when he said, “I’m dying, aren’t I?”
He said it so simply. Pain lodged in my chest. I wanted to lie, to say anything other than the truth, but it was more for my sake than his. Finn wasn’t afraid.
“Yes,” I answered quietly. “It won’t be much longer now.”
