Page 59 of Claim the Light
His voice suddenly catches and his right hand wraps around his left shoulder. “Fuck.”
“Micah?”
He doesn’t immediately respond, but the turn of his head allows me to see that his eyes are watering, liquid trickling down his cheeks as he drops to his knees.
“Micah!”
A gray pallor flows up his neck and down his left arm from beneath his sleeve.
His heart!
My stomach sinks and my own heart thuds in my chest.
No!This can’t be happening now.
I need to reach him and get him out of here. Assuming I’m strong enough to lift him into the air. But, dammit, it took both Beatrix and me to carry him when he was unconscious. My power is undefined and so far, there are no indications that it gives me increased physical strength.
My thoughts fly through my head in the space of a heartbeat.
I’m already stepping toward Micah when five smaller deer, most likely females, judging by their smaller sizes, converge around me. Their heads are lowered, their antlers pointed at me.
Their tines appear sharp enough that I’ll impale myself if I try to ram my way through them, but there isn’t space to spread my wings without hitting them.
Within seconds, they’ve cut me off from Micah and are pushing me back toward the mother deer.
When I turn, trying to find a gap between them, I discover that all of the deer are positioning themselves the same way, heads down and antlers toward me. All of them converging to form a circular wall around me.
The mother and her babies are now close on my left, and, weirdly, she doesn’t seem even remotely alarmed by the events unfolding around her. I’m glad in one sense because I don’t want her to suffer any more distress.
The distress right now is all fucking mine.
“Micah!”
He doesn’t respond, his shoulders slumping over where he kneels.
The stag hasn’t remained idle. Pawing at the undergrowth, it kicks up leaves and debris as it roars at Micah.
Micah’s head shoots up and he struggles to rise.
The moment he makes it up onto one knee, it’s like a trigger.
The stag charges, its antlers aimed right at Micah’s chest like daggers.
A scream leaves my lips, but Micah reacts swiftly. His fist flies upward, his hand wrapping around the longest tine in the blink of an eye.
For a moment, I think he’s going to succeed in pushing the beast away, but the second he touches the antler, its color changes from mahogany to icy blue.
The air sizzles and the scent of burning skin is acrid across my tongue.
Micah gives a roar of pain that cuts through my heart.
The stag keeps pushing, its hind legs digging into the earth behind it, and its now-icy tines inching closer to Micah’s chest and neck.
Micah strains to keep it at bay, his biceps bulging with apparent effort. But if the tine he’s holding is burning his hand despite his scales, he’ll soon lose feeling in that palm. He won’t be able to hold off the stag much longer.
I dread what will happen if the stag succeeds in ramming its antlers into his chest. The tines look deadly enough, but their transformation into icy weapons could cause catastrophic damage with a single stab.
My eyes are wide with fear, but I react without hesitation. I leap toward the nearest deer, focusing on its antlers and drawing on the reflexes I’ve been honing all week.
