“Easy,” said a voice across the clearing. “It wasn’t the spell that did it.”
“Then what did?”
Jason went to speak, his mouth sitting open for a second, but he closed it, shaking his head as he came to sit beside me. “You.”
“Me?” I almost laughed. “I can’t restore life.”
“Not the kind you’re hoping to restore, no. But, you are the Auress of the mortal realm. And with that comes certain abilities.”
“Abilities?”
“They’re different for each of your kind. In my research, when I studied Lilithians back at college, I found that Lilith had the power to restore life to animals. She tried to extend that power to humans and even Lilithians, but it was very limited.”
“So. . .she could bring a dog back to life?”
“Yep.”
“And, what? I get plant life?”
Jase laughed. “I guess so.”
“Great.” I looked down at my fingertips. “That’s gonna come in handy one day, I’m sure of it.”
He laughed again. “Don’t think of it as something useful to you, but more of something that can benefit everything around you.” He motioned to the forest.
I smiled up at the trees. “Yeah, you’re right. And I did see a sad-looking rose bush on my way in. Maybe I can at least help it?”
“I bet you can. Now—” He plucked the page from my fingertips. “What were you hoping to achieve here?”
I eyed the spell. “I . . . I thought maybe, since David’s soul will be ‘disconnected’ from this realm when he uses the dagger, I might be able to bring him back.”
He slowly reached out for me. “Sweet girl, you don’t have this kind of magic.”
“How do you know?” I jerked away.
“This is witchcraft, Ara. You’re not a witch.”
“But I have magic.”
“You have Nature’s magic. It won’t support this kind of spell.”
“Then . . . maybe I can heal his body after he dies. Maybe I can start his heart, and the soul will slip back into the human form—like resuscitation?” I suggested.
“I doubt it, Ara. That’s not what—”
“Why are you so quick to shoot me down, Jase?”
“Because I don’t want you to be disappointed when it fails,” he said in a slightly louder voice.
“When it fails, huh?”
“Yes. When,” he repeated, lifting my chin so our eyes met. “Ara, I support everything you do, one-hundred per cent. But this won’t save David. I know this, to my core. If you keep hoping, all you’ll do is make it hurt more at the end.”
“You don’t know that it’ll fail. How can you possibly know that?”
“You’re right.” Jase opened his arms. “You’re absolutely right. So, try it on me: start my heart. If I’m wrong, I will apologise and we’ll go from there.”
I sat up on my knees. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He unbuttoned his shirt a little and grabbed my hand, placed it against his heart. “Go on. But if I’m right, you need to drop this and realise that you can’t resuscitate David. And also that if the junction spell were to actually work, it would require a witch, Ara. Not an Auress.”
“Okay.” I nodded, repositioning my hand on his chest. His body felt cool and soft under my touch, the gentle rhythm of his needless breath moving his chest up and down a little faster now than before. He waited expectantly while I focused, feeling all life move from within the forest, through me.
But nothing happened. It was as if I’d poured water onto a lidded container: the power just didn’t go through—wasn’t . . . absorbed.
“I . . . oh, Jase.” I looked up into his eyes, half blinded by tears. “I can’t save him, can I?”
“Not with Nature’s magic.” He scrunched up the spell and tossed it over his shoulder. “But it never hurt to try.”
I took a jagged breath, the air cooling the tears on my lips. “Arthur was right.”
“I know.”
“I just. . .”
“I know.” He cupped my cheek and rolled my face against his chest. And it hurt. It hurt to smell him, be this close to him. It reminded me too much of what would be gone soon, but also, deeper than any other feeling, made me miss him so terribly bad I just wanted to stay in his arms.
“I know,” he said one more time, and I laughed into his shirt, half crying, and completely wetting it with tears. He leaned out a little and the smile he offered made the trees and grass seem yellow with warmth. “Hey, cheer up, m’kay. We got a party to plan.”
“You’re right. This is a day for celebration. Not tears.” I wiped my face. “I’m okay now.”
“You sure?”
“I’m just. . .” I nodded, sniffling. “I’m okay.”
“Come on then.” He stood and offered his hand. “You can come with me to the cellar to get the wine.”
I placed my hand in his and pulled myself to stand. “No, you go get the wine. I need to get changed.”
“Changed?” He appraised my outfit sceptically. “You look fine.”
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “You are so not a girl, are you?”
“Um?” He looked down at his jeans. “Not last time I checked.”
Vampire celebrations had a lot more class than human ones. As I trudged through the open field toward the lighthouse, I half expected to see a strobe light flashing—the only thing more noticeable than the bass-thumping tunes—and a bunch of drunk fools hanging off the railing on the top floor. So the gentle glow of candlelight emanating from small tea-lights in each of the six windows wrapping the giant tube, and the soft hum of Mozart, was quite a pleasant surprise.
I wiped my feet with a light scuff on the doormat and popped my head in, calling out to see if anyone was here yet.
“Just us, so far.” Jason trotted down the stairs with two wineglasses in hand, his light blue shirt open a little at the neck, sitting snuggly over his denim jeans. I could just make out the dark lines of the tattooed band wrapping his arm through the fabric. He looked as sweetly sexy as Jase always did, but instead of letting myself smile and tell him that, I appraised him critically.
“So even you got changed before the party.”
He looked down at his outfit and handed me a wineglass. “Couldn’t let you be the only pretty one.”