Day/Theme: May 25 If God must take, she thought, let him take all...
Word Count: 956
Written For: 31_days
“Bianca, get out of here!” Wyatt demanded.
Her hands rising to shield herself, she took a step back as the door telekinetically slammed shut in her face. She stared at the closed wooden surface, wondering what exactly he was doing in the room. It sounded like someone was in there with him, and they were making an awfully big racquet. In fact he had looked quite irate and she had no idea why.
“Wyatt?” she called through the doorway.
She heard a grunt and something else smash. Worriedly she shimmered inside the room. Reappearing on the opposite side of the door, she shifted from foot to foot as she glanced to the right and saw Wyatt with his hand raised, an orb ball spinning furiously in his palm. Transferring her gaze to the direction he was aiming in, she saw someone else standing there. She was sure it was a charge, or at least someone she’d seen before. The orb ball flew from Wyatt’s hand and not seconds later was it returned in the same fashion. Swearing, Wyatt ducked down as more objects obliterated behind him, quickly regaining his footing and holding his hand out for another. Screwing his nose up when his hand remained empty, he righted himself and held his hands out before him. The room filled with a yellowish light as Wyatt let out a single blast of power from his hands. A wall of green went up before his opponent, deflecting the attack, rebounding it and sending it back. Defensively Wyatt activated his shield, the blue bubble rising up and surrounding him. The blast hit Bianca full force. She disintegrated instantly into small pieces of black ash, circling in the draft. Drifting further behind Wyatt, she began to reform as he lowered his shield. She felt another momentous push as she became whole again. Unable to keep her footing, she fell with the motion.
Focused on defeating his opponent, Wyatt raised his hand and began to close his fingers. Every time he used a power it would fade from him, and he had no doubt that it was because his foe had gained the ability to absorb everything he used. He was beginning to run out of options. He cursed himself for falling for the treachery that this witch had offered when a minor injury took the first of his powers – healing.
Now having the deceiver in a sufficient telekinetic stranglehold, Wyatt spun back and swiped his hand at a long broken piece of wood. He wasn’t sure if it was a table leg, or part of a cupboard. Frankly he didn’t care. It was enough to impale the son-of-a-bitch with. Glimpsing Bianca’s body upon the floor as he hurled the wood towards the witch, he drove the stake with more force than he intended to into his opponent. Momentarily unconscious and now pinned to the wall, Wyatt abandoned his attacker to attend to Bianca. He could see blood pooling beneath her but couldn’t determine where it was coming from.
“B,” he said, dropping down by her side as he looked her over. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” she groaned.
He looked at her apprehensively. “Why did you come in? I told you to stay out.”
“I was worried,” she said.
Taking hold of his hand, she tried to push herself up, groaning and dropping back down. Wyatt placed a hand behind her to support her.
“Just… lay down. Keep still,” he advised.
His hand tousled in her hair, he pulled it away once he gently placed her head back onto the floor and found a deep red stain marking his palm.
“Can you conjure?” he asked. “We need a cloth. Most of my powers aren’t working, and I don’t want to leave you here like this.”
Weakly she raised her hand, a soft orange light crossing her skin as a fawn coloured cloth appeared in her grip. Wyatt took it from her, firmly placing it where his hand had found the blood.
“I’m sorry,” she abruptly apologised.
“For what?” he questioned, bemused.
“Don’t be.” Looking up he yelled: “Dad!”
“He can’t help,” Bianca reminded him.
“Oh, right,” Wyatt said, remembering his father also hadn’t been able to retain his whitelighter powers after his wings had been clipped. “Take it easy, baby.”
Bianca tried to concentrate on Wyatt but there was so much pain in her head, and every now and then her mind felt as if it was spinning. She couldn’t understand how she could feel so dizzy lying down.
“Wyatt, my head feels woozy,” she complained.
“Close your eyes,” he said, brushing a hand over her lids then leaning down and kissing her temple. He took hold of her hand between his again. “You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
“Stay with me,” she murmured.
“Aunty Paige! Someone! Help me!” he cried, his voice breaking with emotion.
She heard him sniffle. She didn’t have to look at him to picture the tears brimming in his eyes. She knew the outlook was not good, not if Wyatt had given up hope. He was trying so hard to pretend that she wasn’t going to die from this. He didn’t want to see her suffer. If God must take, she thought, let him take all. The suffering, the pain, the heartache.
He stayed with her for twenty minutes, twenty minutes until she perished. His defences faded as did her breath, her life. Tears fell from his eyes as he pulled her into his arms, holding her one last time, whispering words he should have said to her long ago in her ear. The moment his assailant roused he was going to feel Wyatt’s wrath – with or without his powers in hand.