The Last of the Pure

Twenty-six

Light. Robert had a special connection to anything light based.

This thought seemed to be the only thing occupying my mind as my eyes met his.

I’d seen it in action just once, but with his gift, he’d learned to craft light into small, burning spheres that cut through basically anything they touch like a high intensity laser.

In my vision, this laser-like ball was hurtling toward the two of us, perfectly aligned with the middle of Sam’s chest.

And as soon as my eyes met Robert’s, he released, the ball only feet from us by the time I froze. Sam was poised in front of me at this point, trying to shield me from whatever danger was coming out way and without too much thought behind it, I knocked myself into his frozen form roughly.

My hold dropped immediately as it always did upon contact, like when I was fighting, it wasn’t something I could control. Sam dropped to the ground beside me and I did my best to dodge the white hot ball of light, bending my back slightly, but in the next half second I felt something slice across my collarbone, up the curve of my neck.

It felt like a burning knife being dragged against my skin, the heat from the light radiating through my body as I stumbled backward and toppled to the ground.

I couldn’t even scream, the pain was too excruciating. I drew my hand to the burning area, hoping the coolness of my fingers might calm the stinging, but I couldn’t even feel my skin beneath the blood pouring out of the wound.

I couldn’t think of a way to stop the stinging, to get rid of the blood that was dripping down the front of my grey t-shirt. My head was spinning and my entire torso felt like it was throbbing.

“Nora,” Sam said, his hands on either side of my face on the ground as he hovered over me. “Nora, look at me.”

I realized that even though I could see him and feel his teal eyes boring into mine, my eyes wouldn’t focus. They were heavy and I just wanted to sleep. I felt so lightheaded that I could see little dots of light dancing around his face.

His head snapped to the side and I noticed a scowl take over his features as he stared down whatever it was that was in his line of vision.

“Don’t you dare come near her,” he warned, his voice low and menacing.

I looked around him to find who he was growling at when I saw Robert retreating.

I wanted to explain that I was going to pass out, to let him know that I was losing a lot of blood and my head was reeling out of control. I tried to tell him that the cut felt deep and it hurt, my whole upper body was in agony.

But when I opened my mouth, the only thing that came out was, “It hurts.”

When I woke up, it was dark outside. The lights were off around me and I could feel the cool marble of the countertop I was lying on beneath my bare back.

I heard a rustling beside me and I turned my head slightly, cringing at the tightness in my neck, but focusing my eyes on Samuel. He was sitting on a barstool beside the counter I was lying on, his hands in his hair with his elbows resting on the table. He wasn’t looking at me, but I could hear the tension in his breathing.

I started to sit up, but he lifted his head and placed a hand on my stomach, pushing me back down.

“Don’t try to get up just yet,” he said quietly, standing up so that he was looking down at me.

He looked me over for a moment, stopping on my neck, his eyes raking over where I’d been hit.

I tried to sit up again.