Free Devil's Frost, Spellspinners Series #3 (The Spellspinners of Melas County) by Heidi R. Kling Page A

Reflected in Logan’s eyes, I saw my own. Pools of frustration, of uncertainty, and then sparks of hope urging me to go on, to be brave, to believe even though there was so little left to believe in.
    We made it out of the ice. Logan was here, next to me, in the sand.
    “Where’s Orchid?” I finally asked. “Is she alive?”
    “I think so. Bubblegum said she’s down the beach a ways. Are you okay to stand?”
    My lips tingled when he called the serpent its pet name. So the time below hadn’t all been a dream. “He broke us out of the ice just in time,” I said, stating the obvious, the sound of real words on my tongue feeling so foreign. My real voice scratchy, raw.
    Logan nodded briskly, like all of that time below was already a shoved-away memory he never wanted to recall.
    He helped me up, and with the hand that wasn’t holding mine, sparked a fireball in his palm, using it to light our way along the shore. He didn’t let go of my hand until we found her.
    She was lying on a flat rock. The back of her head was bleeding, and she was pale. So pale. Lapping waves covered her bare legs and the hems of her torn uniform.
    I felt her pulse, weak but there.
    My bare knees scratched against the wet rock as I bent over her listless body. I didn’t dare take it off my neck, so I lay the amulet on her chest, pressing it between my cheek and her heart and waited.
    I moved a swatch of wet, tangled hair from her beautiful face and held her to me. Please, Orchid. Please wake up. Please.
    Orchid was the girl who’d saved me from the St. Patrick’s Day bully who’d pinched me too hard when I didn’t know to wear green; who’d gotten the wad of Bubble Yum out of my hair with peanut butter—tried anyway—who let me borrow her favorite T-shirt to wipe my tears when I flubbed up my first spell and turned my hair purple; who snuck some Forget Me potion from Iris’s highest cabinet when Dad left and I couldn’t bear it. Who sat by me when I puked my guts out from the vile taste. No matter what she had done, she was my best friend.
    “We need to warm her up.”
    Logan ripped off what was left of his uniform, and I did the same. He reached out his hand and dried the fabric. I watched as the water particles floated into the sky like fireflies.
    Silently, we wrapped Orchid in the now-warm garments.
    Logan scooped her up into his arms. “I saw a cave by that cove,” he said, jerking his chin to indicate a place behind me. I ran ahead while he carried her and blew the dust and spiderwebs from the hiding place in the rock so she had a clean place to lie down.
    After we collected some dry wood and starter materials, Logan made a fire. Together we sat with her, watching her damaged body curl up in a ball like a baby, the orange flames reflecting off her quiet face.
    “Her pulse is weak, but it is there,” Logan said, his long fingers on her delicate wrist.
    I nodded with relief. “She must’ve been underwater a long time. She’s so cold. Lay your hands on her, Logan.”
    He met my eyes. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. Your eyes…You may have healing magic she needs.”
    Logan gently ripped away the front of her wet gown and laid one of his large hands on her chest and the other on her flat stomach. Closing his eyes, he mumbled, “Hands of fire, hands of fire, melt this ice; hands of fire, melt this ice.”
    Steam rose from the tiny space between his hands and her skin.
    “It’s working. Keep going.”
    “Hands of fire, melt this ice; hands of fire, melt this ice.”
    As he chanted, I felt my palms heat up…not with ice, but with fire. Only a warlock could generate this much heat.
    “Logan, my hands.”
    I held them up. He blinked, a bit confused, but then moved his palm over. “Maybe the Sisters need you to help us heal her,” he guessed. “Press here.”
    He lifted my palm and pressed it on her soft belly, moving his other hand to the side near her kidneys.
    “Hands of fire, melt this ice; hands of fire; melt this