Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Did it hurt?”
“It did. It still does every time I use it.”
“You lied to me,” she told him.
“When?”
“You told me your illusions weren’t corporeal, but I saw them hurt Woodward.”
He sighed. “That was a House spell. The seal makes it possible for me to access them without needing to draw a circle. It is called Doppelganger. When I create phantoms, I can infuse them with my magic. Each of them was a supercharged manifestation of my power, so when they came into contact with Woodward, his magic recognized them as a genuine threat. They hurt him, but they can’t actually injure him. So you see, it wasn’t a complete lie.”
“Just a partial one?”
“Yes.” Augustine was looking at her, and his eyes were so warm. “Why is it I tell you all my secrets?”
“Because you like the way I look draped over a tree branch?”
He tried to laugh, coughed instead, and grimaced.
She reached over and caressed his face. She was so bold now, because it didn’t matter. They were dying.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked softly. “When you saw me on the street this morning?”
“I always recognize you.”
“How?”
She shrugged, ignoring a slash of pain from her wounds. “I just know. You are the one. My special one.”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is it about me you like?” He sounded so puzzled.
“Everything. The way you think, the way you fight, the way you look at me. I like your scent. I like your eyes.” She leaned forward and brushed a kiss on his lips. “I like the strength of your arms, and how it feels when you touch me. I knew the moment we met.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you are who you are, and I am who I am. You shouldn’t have come with me, Augustine. I wish you hadn’t. I wish you were outside. I wish both of us were outside, with Kitty.”
He reached over and took her hand. His fingers were so warm.
“How can you do this?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“Running up the hill. Killing constructs. Lifting me just now.”
She squeezed his hand. “Have you ever wondered why animals are so much stronger than us? Yes, we can talk about differences in muscle fibers and compare the number of motor neurons, but at our cores we are powered by the same biological mechanisms. And yet a bobcat who is a fraction of our size can leap twelve feet and bring down an adult deer with a single bite. Why is it we are so weak, pound for pound?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Because we don’t have to be strong?”
“Yes. We have forgotten how to be animals. We have guns, knives, clothes… Magic. But animal mages are different. We remember how because we bond with animals from birth.”
She kissed his knuckles and smiled.
“Animal mages plan very carefully for their children, because our first bond defines our personality and character. I was the oldest of my siblings, and my magic marked me as a Prime when I was born. I would be the head of the House, so my parents chose a panther. Not a leopard. A black jaguar. For the first three years of my life, I thought I was a panther. Weaker than my panther family but so much stronger than a human.”
She had never talked about this, but for some reason it felt right to tell him. She was beginning to feel the first feathery touches of dizziness.
“My brother was the second-born. My parents counted on him to support me. They wanted him to understand the importance of family and loyalty. He was bonded to a wolf. He took to it too well. He is a wolf in all but skin. Patient, cunning, and pessimistic. I don’t see him often, but if I ever called for help, he would come.
“Cornelius was supposed to bond with a bear. But he made his own choice. Instead of making a pact with the Kodiak my parents prepared for him, he formed his first bond with a fat, silly raccoon who got stuck in the chimney of the fireplace. People think raccoons are aggressive, but they are shy and timid.”
“Your parents didn’t like that, did they?” he asked.
“No. My mother decided that Cornelius was a failure. She called him a critter and wrote him off. While Blake and I learned to fight, Cornelius treated injured squirrels and sang little lullabies to abandoned kittens. I love my youngest brother so much. My childhood was grim. My parents were cold.”
“Why do you think that is?”
She sighed. “Because we learn early on that it hurts when the creatures around us die. For me, there is no difference between a bird I fed for the past couple of months and a human who worked for me for ten years. It all hurts the same. And when your children or your parents die, it hurts most of all. That’s why so many of us kill ourselves. My parents were shielding themselves and tried to teach us to do the same. It was meant to keep us safe.”