“I brought you to a safe house outside the city limits.” He wanted to touch her again. The compulsion confounded him, so he didn’t. Instead, he pressed a fist against the cool bedspread. “We’re in the basement.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Why are you in the safe house?” He was prepared to be patient. Sometimes concussion victims struggled with confusion.

“No.” Her frown deepened, and she focused on him again. “Why are we in the basement?”

She stared as if he were the one who struggled with confusion, and he bit back a smile. “Mostly because there isn’t any furniture in the house, but also there are protection spells down here. Can’t you feel them?”

Sudden panic and grief cracked her ravaged face. She clamped a hand on his wrist. “I can’t feel anything. My Power was like a deep golden well at my core, but now it’s gone. What’s wrong?”

Her panic jolted him. He had been so preoccupied with checking her over for physical damage, he hadn’t checked for magical injuries.

“Calm down. I’ll check you over.”

Swallowing hard, she curled tighter as he scanned her again. Her taut grip cut off the blood supply to his hand, but he didn’t dislodge her fingers.

Almost immediately he understood what she had meant. Where he had once sensed her Power now felt raw and dark. Carefully he probed, but he didn’t sense any permanent damage.

Once he was sure, he said, “You’re all right. You just overextended yourself and burned out your source.”

“My source,” she repeated softly. Her death grip never eased.

He put his free hand over hers. “Imagine if you tried to sing a two-hour-long opera without conditioning your vocal cords. You would experience throat strain, and you might even lose your voice for three or four days until you recovered. That’s what you did to your magic. It may take up to a week or so, but it will come back.”

Midway through his explanation, she closed her eyes and sighed. Only then did her grip ease.

Most victims of violence acted like victims. They were hurt and traumatized, at least until they recovered their emotional bearings again. But her emotional bearings hadn’t been rocked one iota until she thought she might have lost her magic.

He had wondered how she would handle having magic ability. It appeared she had come to terms with it very well.

The blood that had poured down half her face bothered him. He said abruptly, “Hold on a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Straightening, he went into the utilitarian bathroom and checked his phone. No word yet from Anson. He kept a glass at the bathroom sink. He filled it with water, and then he dampened a clean washcloth and took both to her.