“Deal,” I say. “I’ll help you out. Tell me what you need.”
He’s about to say something, but I catch a fresh scent trail at that moment. I slap the back of my hand against his chest to stop him.
“Wait.” I inhale deeply, turning in a circle to get a sense of the direction of the wind. “I smell something.”
Now that I caught that whiff of Skye’s essence, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner. Jack follows me as I hurry down the path leading to the clinic. We’re more than halfway there, and if Skye’s scent is so fresh here, she must have at least passed by…or she’s still here somewhere.
A chill runs through me, and I speed up, jogging, with Jack keeping up behind me.
“What’s going on?” he demands.
I don’t slow down to answer. “She’s here somewhere, I know it.”
“Why would she still be here after dark?”
The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies. “Exactly.”
Jack spits out a vile curse, and we race in the direction of the village. We turn a bend in the path, and I nearly stumble over…
“Fuck!” I drop to my knees on the cold, wet earth, running my hands over Skye’s curled-up form. “Skye?”
Then Jack is there, tipping her head up. “Hey, babe, wake up!”
She lets out a tired little groan. “Geddoff.”
“What?” I pull her hands from her pockets and rub her ice-cold fingers.
“Get off,” she repeats. “Lemme sleep.”
Jack sends me a freaked-out look. This is so not good.
“Skye, are you hurt?” I wish we had a flashlight with us, and curse myself for not taking it. I see her features clearly, but not her color—and since her parka is all damp, I can’t tell whether she’s hurt or bleeding or whatever.
“Nooo,” she drawls. “Tired.”
It hits me then. “Did you get fried healing the villagers?”
She folds into a ball and tucks her knees up to her chest. “S’okay.”
It sure as fuck isn’t okay. I shove my arms under her knees and shoulders and haul her up against my chest. Jack moves in as though to help, but I shake my head.
“I’ve got her. Where should we take her? The clinic or the Lodge?”
Jack bites his lower lip for a second. “Lodge. If she’s really not hurt, she’s just tired and she’ll recover after sleeping.”
“And if she’s hypothermic?” I argue. “She’s not a dragon.”
He gives me a curt nod. “You take her to the Lodge. I’ll get Leanne to check her out.”
We part ways, and I carry Skye back up to the Lodge. She’s silent and unmoving in my arms, which terrifies me more than I can say. Is it the same condition that we’ve all experienced after burning out on magic work? Or is she in serious danger?
I have no idea how long she lay there—but if Leanne is right, and Skye left the clinic nearly an hour ago, she could have been outside for just as long. The problem is that I have no fucking clue how this affects a human: they’re so much more susceptible to cold.
I burst through the front door, taking care not to smack Skye’s head against the wood. “Aiden!” I bellow. “We need help!”
He comes running, and at the sight of Skye’s limp form, his face drains of color. “What happened?”
I set her down on the couch by the fireplace—it’s the warmest place I can think of right now. “She burned herself out healing the people down at the clinic. We found her lying on the ground.”
