I tried to keep my blood from hitting the circle, knew when it did, hated (loved) what came next. Aching from crown to heel, mouth filled with hot copper – such familiar comfort – I tugged on the thread connecting us and commanded Nate to sleep, the first offensive spell I’d learned.
His eyes filled with murder before he slumped to the floor. For wounds inflicted, I did not catch him.
cleansed the circle, crying, same as I had the night I’d been orphaned.
The lab wasn’t sterile when I left, Nate over my shoulder, but it would
have to do.