Page 2 of Death Card

Marian’s irises are the color of molten lava, and the whites of her eyes are stained a radioactive shade of blue. I stagger backward, nearly tripping over a cord.

“Now you see why we couldn’t go to the hospital,” Theresa cries. “Nothing about this is natural!”

I’ve never seen anything like this before. I stagger to the stairs and grip the banister. “Gramps!I could use some help down here!”

The stairs creak as Gramps descends. He comes into view just as the ancient grandfather clock in the corner strikes midnight. Standing well over six feet tall, Gramps commands any room he walks into. Not only with his height but with the magic that rolls off him in waves. Those without magic don’t know what it is they feel, but even they can tell he’s a confident, powerful man.

He’s dark-skinned with closely cropped white hair. While he may be a few months shy of seventy, the way he carries himself makes him look decades younger.

Theresa’s head swivels toward him and her eyes widen slightly. “Zeke,” she murmurs. “I know I haven’t been around, but you’ve gotta help my girl. Please—”

Gramps holds up a hand to silence her. “It’s water under the bridge.” He turns his gaze on me. “What’s the matter?”

I lead Gramps over to the couch, where little Marian grows weaker and paler by the minute. Her brown skin has taken on a sallow complexion, and her breath hitches in her throat. “Something’s wrong with her, Gramps. Her eyes are these weird shades of blue and orange.”

Gramps rests a hand on Marian’s forehead, and it comes away slick with sweat. “Unwrap the girl. She’s overheating.”

I do as he says, nearly cringing from how thoroughly soaked the blankets are. Dumping the soggy fabric on the ground, I gasp when the full extent of her mysterious illness is unveiled.

Her veins glow in the same shade as her irises. Golden streaks of light shimmer beneath her skin as her limbs violently twitch. When I reach out to touch her, a burst of electricity shocks me. I inadvertently take a step back.

The magic that courses through our veins smolders right beneath our skin, igniting in a tiny pop of static when we touch. Mortals won’t feel a thing. It’s a calling card solely for us.

Usually, the sensation is pleasant and barely noticeable. But when I touched Marian, her magic burned. The tips of my fingers still sting from the ache. Whatever’s going on with her has something to do with her magic.

I turn to Gramps and ask, “What is this?”

His expression is grave. He lays his hand on Marian’s forehead and slips his eyes shut. “There’s a darkness swirling withinthis child alongside the vestiges of her magic.” He opens his eyes and fixes me with his gaze. “We need to pull it out.”

I freeze, panic washing over me. This isn’t the sort of thing I’m skilled in. “I—What?”

“Think of it like sucking out snake venom from a wound.” My eyes grow even wider. A scowl flashes across his face for a moment as his patience is tested. “Where’s your brother? Out again?”

I nod.

His scowl reappears. “Fine. Then it’s you and me, Mikaela. We need to use our own magic as a magnet to draw out the poison in the girl’s blood. Come quick. Lay your hands on her.”

Hesitantly, I do as he says, taking up a position opposite him. My brother’s always been the stronger of the two of us when it comes to healing. Actually, he can best me in most forms of magic. I silently curse him for not being here.

Gently, I remove Marian’s shoes and socks and lay my hands on the bottoms of her feet, ignoring the ache that spreads through my fingers. Marian’s feet glow like the rest of her body. As soon as I touch her, my eyelids droop and my instincts take over.

Gramps was right. I can feel something inside pushing against me. It’s a foul cloud of darkness unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. It nearly overwhelms my magic.

My stomach roils as I fold in half, gagging from the sensation. Whatever has a hold of this little girl is pure evil.

“Marian!” Theresa screams. When I open my eyes, I see that she’s darted forward to take Marian’s hand in hers. The little girl’s body is still. I keep watching her chest to see it rise and fall, and it does—barely.

“Quickly!” Gramps says. He moves his hands from Marian’s forehead to her chest. “Our window to help this child is closing.”

My heart races as I tighten my grip on Marian’s feet. I close my eyes and visualize the darkness swirling within her body. I picture myself using my magic to scoop it out. I don’t know if I’ll be able to offer much help, but I have to try, for little Marian’s sake.

Ancestors, I beg you. Give me the strength to do this.

And then I force my magic into her body.

My breathing quickens as I picture a giant magnet latching on to the darkness and sucking it out. Sweat beads on my forehead as my magic crowds out the darkness until all I sense is Gramps pushing from the other side.

This time, when I open my eyes, Marian is breathing, and her mother’s body sags with relief. “Thank you,” Theresa whispers. “I owe you everything.”