During her time with Dr. Gillespie, Olivia had come across a battered volume of Milton and had read the words they also serve who only stand and wait. At the time, her inclination to serve anyone was rather small. The line had been just a pretty phrase. In the midnight forest with Gareth, she found it echoing in her head.
She wasn’t even waiting. Not really. Mending the rift took far longer than healing Mr. Grenville had, she was working with far less stable energy than she’d been using then, and, oh, yes, the world around her was trying to pull itself apart while she did so. Olivia kept alert, shifted her stance, grasped and released power as it became necessary. She watched Gareth and William and the rift. There was plenty to occupy her, yet she found space enough in her mind to wonder how Gareth was faring. The eerie light showed the tension in his body, his set jaw and thin lips as he stared into the wound in reality. His hand was tight on hers, almost painful.
She wanted to scream with impatience. She wanted to sob with fear. She did neither, and when she saw the rift begin to close, ever so slowly, she didn’t jump into the air and yell with joy, as strong as that impulse was.
There were things to do. Closing down the conduit of energy was one of them, and that fully occupied her consciousness for a little while, because it required the most delicate balance Olivia had ever managed. If she shut off the flow of power too rapidly, Gareth would have nothing but his own energy to work with. If she took too much time about the process, he’d have nowhere to shunt the extra power.
Admittedly, Olivia had never seen what would happen when the mortal frame had to deal with too much magical energy. The results could be wonderful. Conversely, she somehow doubted the likelihood of that, and so she went to work, shutting down the connection a little bit at a time. She didn’t even let herself look up when she heard a strange creaking sound. It was probably the wind in the branches.
Then something grabbed her around her waist.
Her first impressions were jumbled and senseless: the smell of rot and dead leaves, darkness, and something that held her far harder than anything human could have. Screaming, she shoved at it and felt slime under her hands. It didn’t give. Olivia shrieked again, kicked backward. Her foot sank into something squashy. She tried to remember the one offensive spell she’d learned to cast without preparation.
Fire ripped its way out of Olivia’s body and into whatever was holding her. The magic took much of her strength with it, and when her unknown assailant dropped her hard to the ground, the blow knocked the wind out of her for a moment.
She stared upward at a dark mass of—she didn’t know exactly what. There were branches in it and dirt and leaves. This was the form the demon had made for itself when she’d cast it out of Fitzpatrick in this place where the world was thin. This was its last attempt at achieving its goals. Banishing it would not work, not here, not when the gate was still a little ways open and she had no protective circle.
Olivia didn’t know what would.
A mouth opened below the eyes, a mouth as large as she was. The beast lunged forward.
When it reared back abruptly, roaring with the wooden noise Olivia had heard before, her mind didn’t recognize what had happened at first. Instinct propelled her body more quickly, and she rolled out of the demon’s path before she saw Gareth drawing back the rowan staff for another blow.
She couldn’t find the rowan branch, but she grabbed another stick at hand and fumbled for her book of matches. Her mind was racing all the while, the aether still clouding her vision. There was still a line of power between the demon and the gate. Now that Gareth was distracted, the demon’s will was opening it again, faster than the world could fix itself.
Connection could go both ways. If the demon could influence the gate, then the gate could affect the demon. At least, Olivia hoped that was the case.
As the demon lunged for Gareth, Olivia struck a match and used what remained of her power. The stick she held burst into flame. She jabbed it toward the demon and danced backward as the beast turned toward her again. The stick was burning faster than she would have liked. She wished she hadn’t noticed that.
“Close the gate!” she yelled to Gareth. “Finish it!”
He hesitated just a moment. Then he turned back to the gate, knelt…and tossed his staff toward Olivia. She caught it in one hand and held it to the remains of her stick. It seemed to take forever for the wood to catch.
The demon hissed like wind through the trees and bounded toward Gareth, reaching out with tentacles of wood and dirt. Olivia lunged desperately forward. She heard her skirt tear. She also heard bark crackling as some part of the foremost tentacle caught fire. There was another roar.
She stumbled forward, pressing her advantage, thinking she should have taken lessons from Mrs. Grenville. Her dress caught around her ankles. The staff weighed down her arm. She ducked but not fast enough. A lashing tendril slammed into her side.
It hurt, no question about that, and Olivia rocked backward on her feet. She was still on her feet, though. She’d expected to be across the clearing, against a tree or dead. Waving the staff, she stared at the demon through the jumping firelight. Was the creature smaller? It looked smaller.
This time, its roar was more of a shriek. In the aether, something was pulling it away. It was draining through the gate, shedding bits of its assumed form as it went. More and more of it dropped away, faster the further it diminished, like an avalanche in reverse.
In desperation, it charged toward Olivia once more. She hadn’t been expecting that, and she was tired. The sharp sticks that served as its teeth closed on her sleeve. She felt them against her arm for one second. Then she jerked backward, and her sleeve tore away.
The demon fell. When it hit the ground, its body shattered into a jumble of leaves and soil and rocks and twigs. The gate sucked the rest of it back inside and sealed itself together. Olivia stood, staring at a spot that looked like anywhere else in the forest.
“Are you all right? Did it hurt you?”
Gareth’s hands were on her shoulders. His voice was breathless.
“Yes. No. Shouldn’t you know that already?” Olivia asked with a laugh she knew bordered on hysterical.
She switched her gaze out of the aether and looked up. Moonlight and candlelight were all that illuminated Gareth’s face, but they were enough to see his weariness…and his smile.