of lava, and it burns me both inside and out as I push and push.
Roman holds onto one of my shoulders and Asher to the other, their grips tight and grounding. Hot tears slide down my face, and a small cry of pain escapes me, but the magic finally starts moving, passing from me back into Tom. I can see his body absorbing it, and it’s like my body is vibrating with it as I push hard. It sinks in, inch by inch.
As I work, I’m dimly aware of others arriving in the large room, of people whispering and moving around me. I think I hear Hardwick’s voice, as well as Tamlin’s and others. I definitely hear Asher and Dmitri—the latter man fills Asher in on what happened out on the roof, and I can hear the strain of worry in both their voices.
Tom doesn’t wake up as I push the magic into him. I’m not surprised, even if I am a little disappointed. I want him to wake up, to feel that his magic is back. But if the healers put him into a magically or medically induced sleep, then I understand. It’s better than him having been lying around here in pain all this time.
There’s no time for me to rest on my laurels, either. The healers quickly check on Tom to make sure his magic is back, but I know it is. I can feel that it’s gone from my body—one less hot twisting lava snake inside of me.
Now it’s time for the others.
The pain’s growing, and I’m losing control of the magic inside of me, and I know I don’t have a lot of time. I have to move on to the next person.
Roman has to physically carry me to the next bed. It takes forever for the magic to flow from me to them—it only took me a few seconds to steal the power from the doppelgängers, but magic was all they were, really. And I suppose it makes sense that putting something back is harder than taking it out.
Just like gluing a vase back together is harder than smashing it.
But it still exhausts me, and the longer I hold the magic inside of me, the harder it becomes to keep it from tearing me apart. It feels like I’m being ripped apart seam by seam, and I’m doing my best just to hold it all together… but my strength is failing me. Roman’s right by me, stroking my back, assuring me that I’m strong and am doing my best, and that I’ll be fine.
I’m not sure I believe him.
Over and over, I repeat the process, shoving magic back inside its original host. I’m breathing harshly in great gulps, my body is drenched in sweat, and I don’t even have to look in the mirror to know my skin’s probably an unnatural shade. Pale or red or sickly green, I don’t know, but the alarmed looks everyone is shooting me speak volumes.
It becomes easier the fewer magical abilities I have in me, I realize. Each time I return the powers to a student, it goes faster, even if it doesn’t hurt any less. In fact, it hurts more as each time drains me further, takes more out of me.
I reach Cam last.
He was the last one to have his magic stolen, and his is the only foreign power left inside me.
Taking a deep breath, I place my palm on his chest like I did to all the others and push with all my might.
Just like the others, Cam doesn’t stir—and damn it, I really wish he would. I wish so badly that he’d just open his eyes, let me see that he’s okay.
Everyone’s watching me. Roman’s hands are at my back to keep me from falling, the healers are muttering to one another behind me, and the room is crowded with onlookers.
But I don’t care. I don’t care who’s gathered here or who’s watching. Right now, I just care about fixing Cam. About helping the man I’m falling in love with.
I bend over and press my lips to his, kissing him softly.
Then I pour the magic back into him.
I can feel it tingling in my hand, in my lips where I’m touching him, the magic reuniting with him. It settles into his skin like it belongs there. And of course it does, in a way that it could never belong to me. It’s Cam’s magic, not mine.