“No!” Algaliarept shouted, sending a flow of ever-after into me. I nearly passed out, the waves of pain washing through me building upon themselves until there was nothing left but agony. But I took a breath, smelling the stink of my burned soul.

“Algaliarept,” I choked out, my voice a ragged gasp. “Return to the ever-after.”

“You little bitch!” he snarled, backhanding me. The force of the blow picked me up, throwing me into Ceri’s wall. I landed in a crumpled heap, unable to think. My head hurt and my throat was raw. The snow under me was cold. I snuggled into it, burning.

“Go away. Go away now,” I whispered.

The overwhelming ever-after energy humming through my brain vanished in a clock-tick. I moaned at its absence. I heard my heart beat, pause, and beat again. It was all I could do to keep breathing, empty with just my own thoughts in my head. It was gone. The fire was gone.

“Get her out of the snow,” I heard Ceri say urgently, her voice easing into me like ice water. I tried to open my eyes, failing. Someone picked me up, and there was the warmth of body heat. It was Keasley, a small part of me decided, as I recognized the smell of redwood and cheap coffee. My head thumped into him and my chin dropped to my chest. I felt small cool hands upon my forehead, and with Ceri singing to me, I felt myself shift into movement.

Nineteen

“Oh God,” I whispered, my words sounding as raw as my throat felt. It was a raspy utterance, more like gravel in a tin pail than a voice. My head hurt, and a wet washcloth smelling of Ivory soap was over my eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”

Ceri’s cool hand touched my cheek. “I’m not surprised,” she said wryly. “Keep your eyes shut. I’m going to change your compress.”

Around me was the soft breathing of two people and a very big dog. I vaguely remembered being carried in, wavering on passing out but never quite managing it, hard as I tried. I could tell by the smell of my perfumes that Keasley had put me in my room, and the pillow under my head had a familiar, comfortable feel. The heavy weight of the afghan I kept at the foot of my bed was draped over me. I was alive. Go figure.

Ceri lifted the damp washcloth from me, and despite her warning, I cracked my lids. “Ow …” I moaned as the light from a candle on the dresser seemed to pierce my eyes, going all the way to the back of my skull and ricocheting. My headache tripled.

“She told you to keep your eyes shut,” Jenks said sardonically, but the relief in his voice was obvious. The click of David’s nails intruded, shortly followed by a warm snuff in my ear.

“She’s fine,” Ceri said softly, and he retreated.

Fine? I thought, concentrating on my breathing until the light bouncing around in my head lost momentum and died. This was fine?