A Balance of Power by Nicole Zoltack

Author:Nicole Zoltack [Zoltack, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2016-07-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

My mirror-conversation with Silver Tiger must’ve eaten away at the day, because it’s late afternoon now. Strange. I feel kinda weak as I descend the mountain, but is that because of muscle fatigue from being in a paralyzed state a few times and now I’m putting so many miles on my legs, walking around all over the place? Or is it because of using so much magic, I’m draining myself? Either way, I’m beat.

I reenter the town and make for the house. At a green light, I wait to be able to cross when tires squeal. On instinct, I fling myself to the sidewalk, landing hard on my hands. It’s so much like déjà vu with the car accident with Vince and his mom, although we had been in a car at the time.

A car.

Tires peeling and then crash.

The car hit into a jogger.

And the car backed up, turned around, and sped off.

A hit and run. Right in front of me!

I stare down the car. It’s a dark blue color, a Chevy I think. All of the driver that I can see is long blonde hair. And the car turns down a street and is gone.

The victim is gasping for air, rolling around on the street. I drop to my knees beside him. “You’re all right,” I tell him, desperately hoping that’s true. “You’re all right.”

A large tire print is along his chest. He looks crushed, and there’s a strange smell emanating from his body. He keeps opening and closing his mouth, but no words are coming out, only groans and unintelligential noises.

“Oh, God, this isn’t fair,” I mutter, almost a pray and a curse at the same time. If only Gavin was here instead of me. If only I was still magic incarnate. If only I still had the ability to heal…

I might not be a nurse or a doctor, but I can already tell he’s not going to make it. His ribs look sunken in, and he’s bleeding out of the mouth and nose, and maybe an ear too, unless that’s blood dripping from his mouth. His lips look kinda blue. Is he not getting any air? Are his lungs crushed?

If he’s gonna die anyhow…

My hands trembling, I touch either side of his face. Just like with the tree, I can see and feel the tendrils of death, its icy cold fingers, wrapping around him, squeezing the soul from his body. With every bit of me, I try to fight the death, to push it aside, to separate it from him, but it’s like a disease. It multiples and grows and tries to consume not only him but also me…

My body feels so drained, and I can barely hold my hands to his face. My eyes close of their own volition, but I force them back open. I’m ready to try again, to try harder, when I hear approaching footsteps. People are coming. The buzz of their words reach my ears, even if I can’t concentrate on the individual words to register their meanings.

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