Veiled Spirits - Page 51

I dip my chin in acknowledgment. “Hold on to me, mage and ghost. I can get us there faster than using a portal.” Once both the mage and spirit are holding on to my arms, I call on my magic again. As soon as I picture the alpha wolf, all three of us are standing in his room.

Unlike Bishop and me, he’s not asleep. Instead, the wolf is bent over his desk, working on something. He turns to face us, not startled in the least to see the mage and me. “What is it this time, Bishop?”

“Izzy’s hurt. She needs you, Archer, and Cain.” The wolf’s relaxed demeanor evaporates as Bishop talks.

He stands up and stalks over to us. As with most shifters, the wolf is wearing the bare minimum, with only a pair of faded jeans on. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, but we need to go. She likely doesn’t have much time.” The wolf’s eyes flash amber at the threat to his mate. I’m mildly impressed the young alpha is able to keep his wolf from taking over. At his age, I had decidedly less control over myself. My brother loves to remind me what a menace I was, even though it was so long ago.

“Archer! Cain!” the wolf bellows. My ears ring from the sound. The wolf gives my brother’s hounds a run for their money on sheer volume. I hear the thuds of footsteps rushing toward us before the other wolves come into view. While the youngest wolf is dressed similarly to his brother, the middle wolf is fully dressed in a suit.

“Fucking what, bro?” Archer leans against the doorframe, seeming fairly relaxed, at least compared to the mage, alpha, and me. While he tries to appear easygoing, I can spot a predator far too easily for him to fool me. It’s the sharpness in his gaze and how he always scans rooms for threats that give him away.

“Izzy’s injured.” Both of the other wolves’ eyes turn fully amber. Fur ripples up the youngest wolf’s arms, but he’s able to stop the shift a moment later. Good. We don’t have time for wolf temper tantrums if what Bishop says is correct.

“If we’re done stalling, everyone needs to hold on to me. I’ll get us there faster,” I explain for the third time. I could transport them there without touching them, but it can be draining. Since I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with my little raven, I don’t want to waste any of my magic.

“Before we go, all of you need to prepare to see Izzy in rough shape,” Bishop warns. “She’ll have what looks like fatal injuries, but as long as I can give her enough magic, she won’t die.”

While the mage meant that to be reassuring, it’s not. With how much power Izzy has, I’m doubtful the mage has enough to sustain her. I may find out tonight whether my mate can absorb my power or not. No one from this realm should be able to, but nothing about my mate’s magic is normal.

When the wolves nod at the mage, he places his hand on my shoulder. The wolves and ghost follow suit. As soon as I think about my mate, the six of us are transported to a clearing in the forest that surrounds Hawthorne Grove.

With the moon shining brightly, I can see every heart-wrenching detail of my mate. She’s writhing on the forest floor in only a bra and shorts. Although it’s hard to tell exactly what she’s wearing through the blood painting every inch of her paler-than-normal skin. My mate has ragged slashes marring most of her normally smooth skin. Her mouth is open, but only a hoarse whisper of a scream comes out.

As I’m taking in my mate, the mage rushes to her right side and grabs her bloody hand. Izzy’s nails are ragged and broken, like she’s been clawing at something. The mage’s hands glow blue as he starts funneling his magic into her.

“What the fuck happened?” the alpha wolf demands as he falls to his knees on my mate’s other side. He grabs her other hand, uncaring of the blood smearing on his hands and pants. The other two wolves move to the alpha’s side and also place their hands on my mate’s bare skin. Shifters of this realm can help their mates heal through physical touch.

Bishop clenches his jaw as he stares at my mate’s face twisted in agony. He’s reluctant to betray her secrets, which I can respect.

Izzy never told me not to divulge the fact she can see spirits, so I feel comfortable turning to the ghost. “What happened, ghost?”

“Ghost?” the youngest wolf echoes, but I don’t pay attention to him.

“The kid can heal ghosts with soul wounds. By healing them, the ghosts can cross over. When the kid heals these wounds, she has to experience the same injury as some sort of consequence for it. Normally, the kid heals, at most, eight to ten ghosts a night and rests in between each one. Tonight, she healed twenty without any breaks. I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t get through to her.” The spirit’s voice breaks, and a lone tear trails down her translucent cheek.

I repeat what she said word-for-word to the mage and wolves. While I’m repeating it, I come to a conclusion that shouldn’t be so startling, given how much power she has. “Izzy isn’t just a spirit mage. Healing ghosts isn’t possible for spirit mages.”

Spirit mages have an affinity for death, unlike the typical mage that has an affinity for a natural element. Their unique magic allows them to see ghosts and access the spirit plane. Spirit mages are often exceptionally powerful, which is probably why they were outlawed centuries ago. However, spirit mages cannot physically influence the dead, and no spirit mage I’ve ever met comes close to matching Izzy’s power.

“Spirit mage?” the alpha wolf breathes. “Oh, fuck. No wonder she wouldn’t tell us what she could do.”

As Bishop’s magic flows into my little raven, her cuts heal fully, only to split back open. It happens over and over and over. The youngest wolf looks a little green watching this happen. If I didn’t have the extensive experience I do, I’d probably be a little sick seeing it, too.

“Your magic isn’t working, Bishop!” The normally calm and collected suited wolf glares at the mage, and a low-pitched growl vibrates in his throat.

“It is working, Cain. Izzy’s trying to heal the mortal wounds of twenty different people all at once. They all died from something similar, which is why her injuries keep healing and reforming. I don’t know what drove her to think she could heal twenty fucking people, though.” The mage continues to funnel his magic into my mate. He surprises me by not looking as drained as I thought he would. The mage has been hiding the extent of his true power, which is curious. Most mages love flashing their power.

“It was a group of young mages, including Amelia, who were killed at the council headquarters. She was trying to figure out what happened,” the ghost tells me. I, again, pass on the spirit’s message.

“Fuck. Izzy must’ve been devastated to have to heal Amelia. What the hell is going on at the council?” The mage mutters the last part to himself.

“If she’s passed out from the cuts, why does she keep moving around?” The young wolf is staring at my mate with his brows furrowed, and his lips that are usually smiling are now downturned.

“She’s not passed out, Arch. Whatever allows her to heal ghosts also ensures she stays awake while she experiences the same wounds. Izzy is lost to the pain right now but not unconscious.” The mage gazes at my mate with sorrow and anguish swimming in his eyes.

I’m sure the same pain is reflected in my own eyes. I would rather spend a year being tortured in the pits than watch my mate go through this for even a minute.