She shook off my hold on her left wrist and slammed one of her daggers into my stomach. I screamed, even though the horrible wound sent even more magic spinning through my body, the power whirling around and around like an icy tornado inside me.

Katia yanked the dagger back out. She started to wrench herself away from me, but I lashed out and grabbed hold of her wrist again. We seesawed back and forth for a few seconds, with her trying to break my grip, and me digging my fingers and nails into her skin as hard and tight as I could. At the same time, I reached down and hooked my socked foot around one of her ankles, throwing her off balance and spinning her around so that her back was to Deah.

“Now!” I screamed.

Deah didn’t hesitate, stepping forward even as my scream echoed through the boathouse.

Katia cursed, finally realizing what I was up to. Once again, she tried to break my hold, but it was no use. Even as she struggled against me, all she did was make me stronger and stronger, and I tightened my grip, my fingers pressing down, bruising the bones in her wrists.

A second later, Deah rammed her sword into Katia’s back.

Katia let out an agonized scream at the mortal wound and arched back, as if trying to push Deah’s sword out of her body. The daggers dropped from her hands, thumping to the wooden floorboards, and blood bubbled out of her lips.

Katia stared at me, her green gaze dimming by the second, the magic and color leaking out of her eyes as they resumed their normal hazel color. Her emotions slammed into me as well, even as the power and life drained out of her, and I felt every single agonizing moment of the red-hot wound in her back.

It matched the dagger wound in my own stomach.

Katia struggled and struggled, still trying to break my grip, but I tightened my hands around her wrists and held on. She let out one final, choked gasp, then slumped to the floor—dead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Katia might be dead, but she was still going to take me down with her.

I was holding on to her so tightly that I fell on top of her, and it took me a few seconds to loosen my grip. I managed to roll off her, every motion making more and more pain shoot through my stomach. On the floor, I could see my blood mixing with Katia’s, which was bubbling away like acid. I wondered if that’s what stolen magic did to you—ate away at your insides like acid because it didn’t truly belong to you. That would be some twisted poetic justice.

I pressed my hand over the wound in my side, but blood kept pouring out from between my fingers.

“Lila!” Deah rushed over to me. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” I rasped through the pain. “You need to get out of here . . . go get . . . some help—”

Thump-thump-thump.

Thump-thump-thump.

Thump-thump-thump.

Outside, footsteps pounded, coming closer and closer. Deah got to her feet, stepped in front of me, and whipped up her sword, ready to face whatever new danger this might be.

The door burst open, and Devon and Felix raced inside, both of them holding swords.

The three of them stared at each other for a second before Deah let out a tense breath and lowered her weapon.

“You guys need to help Lila. She’s hurt.”

Devon dropped to a knee beside me, his eyes going wide with shock at all the blood on me. “Lila—” he said in a strangled voice.

“Here,” Felix said, crouching down beside me as well. “Let me try to heal her, or at least stop the bleeding until Dad and the others get here.”

Felix put his hands on top of my wound, making me gasp with more pain. But he ignored my choked sobs and let loose his power. His magic seeped into my body, trying to stop the bleeding, pull the ragged edges of the wound together, and undo all the damage that Katia had done.

And, for a moment, I almost thought it was going to work.

But Felix only had a minor Talent for healing, and my wound was definitely major all the way around. He was able to stop the bleeding for a few seconds, but then his magic burned out of my system, and blood started seeping out from between my fingers again. Felix had stitched up the wound as best he could, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Felix cursed. “It’s no use. Her wound is too severe, and I don’t have enough magic to heal her myself. If I had a bottle of stitch-sting. . . .” His voice trailed off because we all knew that he didn’t and that there wasn’t time to go get one from the fairgrounds before I bled out.

So Felix leaned forward and tried again, letting loose another burst of magic. I could feel his power inside me and my own transference wanting to kick in, even though it wouldn’t do me any good. My transference power made me stronger, but right now, I needed magic to heal me, not give me enough muscle to swing a sword. If only Felix was as strong in his magic as Devon was, he could have easily healed my wound. But Devon’s compulsion didn’t have any sort of healing element to it, and he could only give people simple commands, like telling me to hold on when we’d been on the rope ladder or to run the night we’d been fighting Grant. Devon’s magic had mixed with my own then, giving me the strength to run far enough to save us both from Grant and his goons.

I looked at Felix and Devon both huddled over me, and a crazy idea popped into my head. Felix might be the only one here with healing power, but he wasn’t the only one with magic—and maybe raw magic was all I really needed.

I reached up and clutched Felix’s hand in mine, then reached for Devon’s hand, so that I was holding on to both of them at the same time.

“Felix,” I rasped, blood bubbling up into my mouth. “Try to heal me again. Use . . . as much . . . magic as you can at once. Devon . . . at the same time . . . you tell me to heal. Put as much force behind it as you can.”

Devon’s eyes widened as he realized what I wanted, and he shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. I’ve never used my magic like that before. I don’t know how or even if it will work. It could kill you outright.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he thought about it, trying to figure things out, the way he always did.

“If we don’t try, I’m dead anyway,” I rasped. “Do it . . . give me a chance . . . please. . . .”

My voice trailed off, and black and white stars began to flash in front of my eyes. I didn’t have long, maybe another minute or two before I’d pass out. A couple minutes after that, I’d bleed out and die right here in the boathouse.