Donovan stood by the car, basically holding position as watchman. He offered a mild visual block between the freeway and his partner.
Eleri had wandered out into the grassy field, then cut behind a small clump of trees. He could still see that she was there, but he didn't have a clear shot of what she was doing. He saw enough to stop her if someone came running through the woods yelling, or if something drove by on the road, or something came up that she needed to stay hidden from.
Though he hadn't watched intently—he was more focused on watching the nearly non-existent traffic while looking bored—he’d seen her pull out her book and lay it open on the ground in front of her. She next spread out a towel that she pulled from the trunk of the car, stepped both feet onto it, and raised her hands to the sky.
Next, she'd muttered something that he didn't understand—a spell, an incantation, or a swear. He wasn't sure. But after a moment, he realized she was cussing a blue streak. Eleri lowered her hands and turned back toward the car. From her expression, it clear that she’d dicked something up.
As she got close, he heard her muttering. But he didn’t interfere, just watched as she reached into the back seat and pulled out the bowl she’d brought. Holding out an angry hand she asked, “Can I have your water?”
She seemed to want the one in his hand. Rather than argue, Donovan handed it over and watched. He could get another one from the car if he was thirsty.
Heading back to her spot, Eleri plucked leaves off the trees as she went by and, this time, she added the bowl—now full of random-looking crap—to the setting at her feet and raised her hands. When she spoke, he knew the words were a spell.
It took her all of four to five seconds to catch the contents of the bowl on fire. Donovan leaned back against the car and crossed his arms. He didn’t know how this was supposed to go, only that she was looking for Bodhi—to see if he’d been here or turned off the road a ways back. So Donovan stayed quiet and watched as smoke rose up from the bowl. Or maybe it was steam from the water.
He listened as her voice kept repeating the same set of sounds over and over. The sound rose with each repetition, as did the flames. He would have been impressed, but Eleri was getting good enough that even he was getting jaded.
A car drove by on the country road behind them. Slowly, he turned his head as if to see if he knew them. He wouldn’t, but he looked anyway. But if the occupants of the car saw anything, they apparently didn't think it was worthy of their time.
They were over the hill out of sight, and quickly beyond his hearing.
Looking back toward the trees, he watched Eleri as the flames she conducted changed from blue to green. The smoke changed from a hazy gray to a sharp purple tone.
Donovan had no idea what any of it meant. Eleri wasn't in any position to answer questions, so as long as she seemed safe, he stayed still. The fire climbed higher, almost to her waist. Though it didn’t change color again, it began an audible crackle and suddenly became noticeably brighter.
He’d frowned at the sight and was starting to move toward her when the contents of the bowl exploded, knocking her backwards.
As his lungs stopped working, his feet started. Donovan ran. The short distance was enough to raise his heart rate, though probably more from fear than activity.
Adrenaline surged through his system, a white-hot flood that scared him as much as anything else. He was halfway to her before she hit the ground. But he still wasn’t fast enough, and she hit hard. Her head knocked against what he could only hope was just dirt and not stone. His stomach turned, but he kept moving.
It seemed in slow motion that her body bounced and rolled and came to a stop. All of it happened before he could get close enough to do anything but watch.
Though he'd run at full speed, he pulled up short just as fast. Skidding into place, he made sure not to step on her or cause more problems than she already had.
Nearly sliding in like a baseball player, he leaned down to check for a pulse. His fingers were pressed to her slender neck, exposed where her head had rolled to the side.
Her eyes were open, glassy, and unseeing.
Donovan pressed his fingers harder, searching for a pulse.