Into that nothingness came a trickle tasting of the freshest river stream. The trickle became a flood, rich and clear and life-affirming.

I came to on the library floor, straddling Rafael, his magic a smudgy pull from a bleeding gash on his forearm. I'd wound it like taffy around the finger that I sucked into my mouth. Bile rose in my throat and I tried to shut the connection down but Rafael clamped on to my wrist, thrusting his arm closer.

His magic ran down the back of my ...