“Nonsense, Darrien.” Aunt B crouched by him. “Of course you can. Kate will heal you.”

No, I can’t.

“I’m bleeding internally. I can’t stop it.” His voice dissolved into a hoarse groan.

Heat rolled down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry.” Doolittle smiled. “Please don’t. I had a long life . . . A long useful life.” His voice broke into a horrible noise. He sounded like he was choking. “I’m . . . ready.”

“We’re not!” George cried out.

My lips moved. I willed him to live with each whispered word, but he was fading, slipping through my fingers. Doolittle had saved me more times than I could count. I would keep him alive. Whatever magic I had, it was his. It would have to be enough.

Live, I willed. Please, please live. Please don’t go.

He slipped further away from me. I was losing him, just like I had lost Bran.

I chanted, concentrating all my will on that little spark.

The world faded. The noises receded.

My lips moved, whispering the words on, and on, and on . . . It was a very simple chant that most people in my line of work learned. It was designed to boost the body’s regeneration, and I poured all of myself into it. Only the next word and the tiny bit of magic it invoked mattered. If only I could claw myself open to get at the magic to keep him alive, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

My lips were numb. I couldn’t feel my legs. The bottom half of me turned into a hole filled with pain. Too much magic drained too quickly.

Doolittle’s eyes rolled back in his skull.

“Kate!” George yelled.

“Let me through!” Hugh roared in the back. “Let me through, damn it!”

Half a dozen snarls answered.

The chant had consumed me. I’d sunk every iota of my magic into it and now I struggled to break free. My voice was a mere whisper. “Let.”

Curran crouched by me.

“Let him.” Let him in.

Curran rose. “Let him through.”

A moment later Hugh knelt by Doolittle. “Broken neck.”

“Yes.”

Hugh looked at me, his blue eyes studying me.

“Do you want him to live?”

“Yes.”

Hugh rocked back, raised his head, and closed his eyes. Magic pulsed from him, like the toll of a colossal bell. It touched the bloody floor. Blue vapor rose from the blood, streaking upward.

The air around Hugh began to glow. I felt the magic move, a massive heavy current of it. So much power. Holy shit.

I held on to Doolittle with my magic, afraid to let go. I chanted, keeping him tethered to life. The ache in the pit of my stomach grew into a steady burn. A cold painful fire spread from my stomach into my chest and neck.

Hugh’s body shook from the strain of the magic vibrating around him, fighting to break free.