Maria knelt by Anson’s body, both hands flattened on his chest. No. No. Josiah lunged at them. As he fell to his knees on Anson’s other side, Maria lifted her head. The rain had flattened her hair to her head, and tears poured down her mud-streaked face.

“He’s alive, but just barely.”

Josiah whirled to look at Molly. “Milaya, don’t stop now. I need a bit more.”

Her expression showed strain, but she nodded. The steady flow of Power pouring at him never wavered. God, she was so steady, so strong. A wave of love for her washed through him, so pure and potent, if he hadn’t already been on his knees it might have brought him down.

He turned his attention back to Anson. Magic burns covered most of his face and chest. His breathing was labored and uncertain.

“If you still believe in praying, now would be a good time,” he told Maria. He cast healing spells, holding his breath as each one hovered over Anson’s body before slowly sinking in. Sometimes if the injuries were too severe, a body wouldn’t absorb the kind of healing spells he knew how to cast.

A newcomer joined them. He looked up at one of the women who had been with Molly. “My name’s Lauren,” the woman said. “I’m a healer. Let me help.”

He glanced again at Molly, who nodded as she watched.

“Yes,” he said to Lauren. “Thank you.”

Together they worked on Anson until gradually his breathing became less labored and some of the rawness had scabbed over. Josiah kept casting healing spells until Lauren grasped his wrist, silently urging him to stop.

“He can’t take any more.” Lauren’s hazel eyes were kind. “But it’s all right. Your friend’s going to make it now.”

He nodded and swiveled on one knee to look for Richard. Steven and Henry were with him, supporting him as he sat up. Tracks of blood formed runnels over his face and body.

“Enough,” he said to Molly.

Her face was twisted with effort. She nodded and broke off the Power transfer with a gasp while the two women beside her sagged.

When the steady flow of Power stopped, spots danced in front of his eyes. He swayed and toppled onto his back. Everything felt black and raw inside, and he ached everywhere. His bad leg felt like it was on fire. He had nothing left. Nothing to resurrect, not even if their enemy decided to turn around and reengage.

“Josiah!” Molly fell to her knees beside him. She met his gaze, then closed her eyes briefly. “Thank God. You scared me when you collapsed.”

He rested a hand on her knee. She’d been out in the weather longer than any of them and was soaked to the skin. Her lips had turned blue.