Is that also why Jarron’s demon soul has been splitting? Because his chosen is alive but with another man?
I shake my head. I have to keep my mind straight. Finish the potion, help my friends, then freak out about the possibility of Liz being involved in all of this.
Tears sting the back of my throat as I ignore the glowing figure that appeared at my back and instead rush toward the force field.
Jarron’s monster-void eyes stare at me frantically, but his body is still. “I need you to shift back,” I tell him gently. “Your human body is smaller; you can get through that way.”
He blinks twice. His muscles are tense.
I place my arm on the rough leathery skin of his forearm. “Trust me,” I whisper.
He winces, and a soft whimper escapes his lips. Then, magic ripples over his body and he’s back in his human form. He looks incredibly exhausted. His hair dips into his sunken eyes, and he looks up at me like I’m his last remaining hope.
“Gently,” I tell him, “crawl through.”
I place my hand on the top invisible barrier, feeling around where it begins and ends. It’s jagged and sharp; no wonder it’s ripped into him. I wince at the bloody mess he’s made of himself already.
I carefully guide his arm through, and then I pull him the rest of the way in.
He slides onto the ground in a heap, panting. “Are you okay?”
I laugh bitterly. “Better than you.”
“What’s happening?” he asks.
“Well, you nearly killed yourself to get through a magical barrier instead of calmly thinking through—”
“I meant over here,” he spits.
“I need to finish the potion,” I say and pick up the vial of minotaur snot on the ground. “I’ll be right back.”
Jarron groans in frustration as I run to the cauldron, leaving him on the ground. I won’t be gone from him for long; he’ll be okay. I absently notice Thompson crawling through the opening in the barrier in his wolf form.
The pink liquid gurgles angrily. Here goes nothing. I quickly pour the sticky liquid into the potion, and it only takes a second for steam to billow up and out in a massive hissing wave.
I stumble away as the acid roars its freedom and the smoke turns black and triples in size.
You need to go first.
I press my lips together, searching the spot I swore the jinn had been standing moments ago. Nothing is there.
Thompson, in wolf form, trots next to a hunched over Jarron at the same time as Janet and Lola arrive to see what’s going on. We watch together as the entire potion pours from the cauldron up, up, up, in a streaming pillar to the stalactites high above.
“What now?” Janet asks.
“We wait for it to finish,” I say. “There’s something beneath it.” I point to the gentle light that grows in intensity the more that the potion seeps into the air.
It’s peaceful for the minute we stand there and wait. Or maybe, that’s only me. I know I’ve done what I needed to do, and I know what I need to do next. That feeling of accomplishment, even in such a stressful situation, feels good.
The hissing potion finally settles, and I skip up the steps to peer inside.
At the bottom of the cauldron is gooey pink residue and a golden glowing ball.
Get inside. It’ll bring you to me.
It’s a portal?
I bite my lip and look back at Jarron. When I hold out my hand, my heart aches. “Together?” My voice comes out as barely a whisper.
