Page 78 of Assisting the Alpha
AYO
My head is pounding, every single muscle in my body aches, and I feel like I’ve been run over multiple times.
I blink, squinting against the bright lights in the white room. I appear to be on some sort of bed with rails, maybe a hospital bed? There are definitely all sorts of wires connected to me and a tube going into my left hand. I’m also wearing one of those awful hospital gowns that let a person’s bum hang out for reasons only medical people know.
I have a moment of gut-clenching panic when I realise the reassuring weight of my focus is missing, but then I spy it on the tiny table on the right hand side of my bed, the moonstone in the centre twinkling faintly.
Nyoka is on the left side of the room in front of a spaceship-style control panel, his black and green velvet cloak swishing around him as he works, his fingers covered in his usual collection of rings. The control panel takes up the entire length of the wall and every button and dial is covered in runes, thescreens displaying a whole bunch of graphs and readings that mean nothing to me.
I didn’t know the coven healers had anything like this. I guess I’ve never actually been magically ill so I’ve never needed it. Which really does beg the question of what the heck happened? And why have they removed my focus? Surely that can’t be standard procedure.
Why isn’t Ethan here? Is he outside, not allowed in because he’s not a coven member? It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Nyoka’s keeping him from me, regardless of whether or not he’s figured out we’re in a relationship. I can’t hear anything from outside so there’s likely a privacy ward in place.
I can barely turn my head. Moving anything from the neck down is an impossible task. I try to access my magic to get more clues about any wards or spells in the room, but I get barely a flicker in response.
Shit, that’s not good. My focus only helps control my magic, so I should still have plenty of power even when I’m not wearing it. My heart starts pounding as I try again with a similar lack of result. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to slow my rapid breathing, concentrating on nothing but that tiny spark inside me.
My magic is barely alive.
That must be why I’m here. What was I doing that hollowed me out so badly? I remember using up almost everything while borrowing the grimoires from the manor, but that had improved… Then…
Nyoka must hear my change in breathing because he turns around. “Ah good, you’re awake.”
“What happened?” I croak. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara.
“You drained yourself dry, silly boy. What were you even doing to manage it? Your well of magic is usually enormous.”
I hesitate, not sure how to tell him I used up my magic getting the family grimoires because I suspect one of our coven members is the serial killer we’ve all been searching for. I don’t know if he’ll believe me, especially if I tell him I suspect his own wife. Not when he thinks he and the task force already locked up the guilty person when they sent Xana to Wargate.
But at the end of the day, Nyoka is the coven leader. He deserves to know the truth.
“Nyoka… Xana isn’t the person who’s been murdering our people. Have you ever heard of a Nagual?”
Nyoka’s face loses colour as his entire body goes rigid. He has, then. Good. I did wonder if he’d read the grimoires. At least this way he’ll have to acknowledge the possibility.
“How do you know about the Nagual spell?” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Dad.”
“Of course.”
“Someone else must know as well, because the evidence fits a Nagual far better than a cat shifter with no scent. I haven’t been able to figure out who yet, but?—”
“Who else have you told about this?” Nyoka rushes over, urgency in his every movement. “This is dangerous knowledge. We must act quickly.”
I open my mouth to answer, then change my mind at the last second. I’m not sure why, but the teeny tiny bit of magic flickering in my core pulses a warning. “No one. I didn’t have time, what with the protest.”
“Of course,” he says, backing away to the control panel again. “We must replenish your core as quickly as possible. That much magic will be needed for the fight. So you burnt out your magic reading the grimoire? No, that wouldn’t do it. You can read it. You took it. Hmm, yes, the magic required to remove a grimoire from the vault would definitely burn out a sorcerer.”
He goes on muttering to himself as he taps various buttons and reads the four different displays. I don’t think now is the time to tell him it actually took removing eleven grimoires to burn me out.
Although, did it? I remember being back at Ethan’s flat. I found the spell, which is what confirmed everything. I messaged the others. Some of my magic had replenished.
My memory is really fuzzy, but… there was a fire drill. Fuck, that was it. I thought it might be a real fire so I set up spell protections.
“How did you even get it off the stand?” Nyoka stops fiddling with things and turns to me. “Everything in that room was designed centuries ago to prevent the grimoires from ever leaving.”
The itty-bitty flicker of magic in my core pulses another warning. “Can we talk about it later? I’m really parched.”
