“In the woods, together.” His fingers curled tight over hers. “Is that how it was?”
She nodded. “It’s a kind of astral projection, I think. We’re here, but we were there. I must have pulled you in with me. You . . . You hit out at the fog.”
“It worked, and felt fine as well, though your fire did more.”
“No, yes. I don’t know. You struck out, and it was like you punched a hole, for a moment. I . . . But you’re bleeding.”
“Sure it’s but a scratch.”
“No, it’s from him. I don’t know if it’s just a scratch.” She could call on Connor or Branna, but she felt, somehow, this was for her to do.
“I need to fix it.”
“Just needs a quick wash, and ointment if you’re going to fuss about it.”
“Not that way.” Her heart beat so fast now, faster, she realized, than it had, even through the fear of the dream.
He bled, and it was Cabhan who’d drawn that blood.
“It’s an unnatural wound. I’ve studied it, if you’ll trust me.”
She laid her hand over the shallow gash, closed her eyes. She saw his hand—strong, broad, the fascinating scarred knuckles from his boxing days. The blood, and deeper, looking deeper, the thin black line of Cabhan’s poison.
Just as she’d feared.
Draw it out, she told herself. Out and away. White against black again. Light against dark. Out and away before it sank deeper, before it could spread.
She felt it go, little by little, felt it burn away. She knew by the way his hand stiffened, it caused him pain. But now the wound ran clean. Slowly, carefully, she set to the healing of the shallow gash. Now the pain—small, sharp stings were hers. But they faded, faded.
Just a scratch, as he’d said, once the poison had been drawn out.
She opened her eyes, found his on her.
“You’ve gone pale.”
“It took some doing. My first try at this kind of thing.” Her head spun a little, and her stomach did a couple of slow rolls.
But the wound was clean, and it was closed. She studied his hand, satisfied. “He used poison. I don’t know if it would’ve done anything, but it might have spread. It wasn’t much, but it’s gone now. You could have Connor take a look.”
Boyle continued to study her as he flexed his fingers. “I’d say you did well enough.”
“I don’t know if he expected me to pull you with me. And I don’t know how I did. But you told me what needed to be done. The fire. You told me, and it worked.”
“Burned him to ashes.”
“Well, wouldn’t be the first time, and I really don’t think it’s the last.”
“No, not the last of it.”
“I’d say I’m sorry I dragged you into that, but I’m awfully glad you were with me.”
“It was an experience for certain.”
One that left him shaken, and more, puzzled him. During it he’d felt such calm, and such absolute faith she would do what needed to be done.
“It seemed like a dream,” he continued, “the way your mind can be a bit slow, and you don’t question the oddities.”
“I’ll do a charm for the bed, or better, have Branna do one. It should help.”