Emerald Blaze

by Ilona Andrews

Alessandro jumped, catching Linus’ sword in midair.

  The magic of Primes manifested in different ways. For me, it was wings. Beautiful glowing wings, each long translucent feather dark green at the base lightening to a brilliant grass green, then turquoise, until the color burst into triumphant gold at the edge.

  I opened my wings and sang out a long high note. Magic tore out of me. I only had enough for one blast, and I sank everything I had into it.

  My magic seared the giant’s crippled mind.

  The creature stopped in midstep.

  I raised my hand and sang out, my voice an ethereal call suffused with power. “Come to me.”

  The giant turned, took a step toward me, and dropped to its knees.

  The world went black and fuzzy at the edges. Alessandro appeared above the creature, falling, Linus’ sword held over his head. The blade sliced through the air and bit into the giant’s head, splitting it in two. He bisected it all the way to the floor. The two halves sagged to opposite sides, and the ring with the bud hovered in midair. Alessandro reversed the cut and slashed across it in a classic diagonal strike. It was a beautiful move, smooth, fast, and precise.

  The ring fell apart.

  The top of the unopened flower fluttered to the ground. Its light faded and died.

  The two halves of the beast collapsed, spilling vegetation and metal all over the floor. The remains of a human body, flesh still clinging to the bones, scattered across the tile. The stench of carrion hit me. I gagged. My head felt too heavy. Someone had poured lead into my skull when I wasn’t looking.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked. Talking was very difficult for some reason.

  “No.”

  I tried to walk, but I wasn’t sure where the ground was. And then Alessandro was there, carrying me to the car.

  “Put me down.”

  “Shut up,” he said gently.

  “You don’t have touching rights.”

  “Right now I do.”

  I couldn’t stop him if I’d tried. And being carried by him felt so nice. He was warm and strong, and after all that, somehow, he still smelled good. Being in his arms felt like nothing in this world could hurt me.

  “Okay,” I said. “You can carry me to the car.”

  “Thank you, Prime Baylor. That’s quite magnanimous of you.”

  He opened Rhino’s passenger door and loaded me into the seat as if I were made of glass. The seat felt good, but his arms felt better.

  He tilted my seat back and reached over me to buckle my seat belt.

  “I’ve got it,” I ground out.

  “Relax. I’m strapping you in.”

  We were face-to-face, his arm around me. If I leaned forward an inch, I could brush my lips over his cheek. My body tried to respond. It had no energy left, but it tried so hard.

  He buckled my seat belt.

  “Sword,” I told him.

  “I’ll get the sword.” He shut the door, ran to the pile of metal and plants, and came back with Linus’ blade and the four rings. He handed the sword to me, and I hugged it and exhaled.

  Alessandro stuffed the rings into a canvas bag, climbed into the driver’s seat, started the armored SUV, and Rhino rolled forward. The walls of the dealership slid by and we emerged into the sunlight. Alessandro made a sharp left and Rhino sped onto the bridge we took to get here.

  “Wrong way. Marat is the other way.”

  “We’re not going to see Marat. We’re going to the hospital.”

  A green construct leaped out of the water and landed on the bridge in front of us. Alessandro gunned it. The SUV smashed into the beast with a wet thunk at fifty miles per hour. Chunks of metal and bone flew apart. In the sideview mirror I saw them fall and remain still. He must’ve crushed the flower.

  “I’m warming up to your pancake strategy,” he said.

  My tongue felt slow and thick in my mouth. “We have to see Marat in twenty minutes.”

  “He’ll wait.”

  “No. It’s im . . . imp . . .”

  “Important?”

  “Imperative that we keep that appointment. It’s my first interview with them.”

  “He will wait.”

  “Turn around.”

  “Catalina, your side is soaked with blood, your shirt has vomit on it, and your head is bleeding. If we go to see Marat right now, he won’t be impressed. Also, that sword burns through magic like a motherfucker, and when I find out who gave it to you, I’ll kill them, because that’s a death sentence.”

  I raised my hand and touched my head. My fingers came away smudged with blood.

  “It’s not deep,” Alessandro said. “But you need to be checked out.”

  “Don’t take me to the hospital. I can’t afford to be the evening news.”

  “Then I’ll take you home.”

  “No, that’s worse. If we go home, I’ll never get out.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “They’ll swarm me. They will tie me to the bed and call an ambulance.”

  His voice softened. He turned to glance at me. He looked so handsome. “Catalina, tesoro, please let me take you home.”

  Oh my God. How was he even in my car?

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  He smiled at me and my heart made a little happy leap.

  “You’re trying to charm me.”

  He reached over, took my hand in his, and kissed my fingers. “Let’s go get you a doctor.”

  “It doesn’t work on me.” It worked. It so worked.

  “You need a doctor. We can go home, or we can go to the hospital. I’m driving and you’re not in a position to stop me.”

  A low insistent ache pulsated in my head, growing stronger and stronger. Somewhere deep inside me a rational part of my brain informed me that he was right. I needed a doctor. But I needed to do the interview even more.

  “Please stop the car.”

  The muscles on his jaw bulged.

  “I know you’re pissed off and my head is bleeding.”

  “And your side. And you’re speaking slowly, which means you drained your magic down to nothing or you have a concussion.”

  “It could be both.”

  He growled.

  “That was very scary.”

  “You’re not helping your cause, smartass.”

  “We came into the Pit to talk to Marat. The person who attacked me by the river didn’t want us talking to him. They attacked us again. And now we are running away.”

  “We aren’t running away. We’re making a strategic withdrawal.”

  “Arkan is targeting my family. I can’t afford to show weakness. The longer this investigation goes on, the higher the risk for them. This is my first interview. If I don’t make it, the other board members will feel free to ignore me. The investigation will drag on. If people I love get hurt because of this, I’ll never forgive you, Alessandro.”

  He slapped the wheel with the palm of his hand. “Porca puttana!”

  “If you care for me at all, even a little bit, I need you to stop the car, get the first aid kit from the back, and patch me up. After the interview, we can go home and I’ll have an MRI, a CT scan, a toxic panel, a pregnancy test, and whatever other tests you want me to get. Sound fair?”

  “It sounds like shit. You were clawed by something that might have crawled out of the arcane realm. It could be poisonous or venomous.”

  “I have the A3 antivenom in the kit.”

  “No.”

  “Alessandro.” I made my voice soft and pitiful.

  He glanced at my super-sad expression and swore again.

  “Please,” I said. “For me?”

  He hit the brakes. Rhino slid and spun around, facing in the opposite direction, toward the Pit.

  “You’re crazy and I’m stupid. Take your shirt off.”

  If it were anybody else, I would’ve stripped without hesitation, because it wouldn’t have mattered. Being a Deputy Warden had cured me of any demure shyness about getting my wounds
treated. My entire side burned as if scalded. I needed medical attention and it couldn’t wait. But it was Alessandro, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, it mattered so much.

  Alessandro walked around the SUV to get the first aid kit from the back. I peeled off my blue T-shirt. He was right. There was vomit on it. Not much, but enough to smell bad. Maybe I did have a concussion.

  I lifted my butt off the seat, unzipped my pants, and pulled them down on the right side to expose my hip and most of my butt. Alessandro chose that moment to swing my door open.

  For a second he didn’t say anything. He just stared.

  And this wasn’t awkward. Not at all.

  “Help me off the seat?” I asked.

  He put the kit down and picked me up. His hands felt so nice on my cold skin. He set me down and squeezed hand sanitizer onto his fingers. I perched on the step that helped you climb into Rhino’s high cabin and raised my arm.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s not good.” He held up a syringe. The antivenom. Creatures from the arcane realm carried things on their claws and their teeth that didn’t play nice with the human body.

  I closed my eyes. Needles were never my favorite. A sharp pinprick punctured my side. The medicine flooded into my muscle in a painful heavy stream. I grimaced.

  “Almost done,” he promised.

  Finally, it was over. I exhaled and opened my eyes.

  We were on the access bridge. In the distance Sam Houston Tollway channeled the current of cars heading north. We were out in the open, and yet somehow strangely private, with nothing but an empty bridge and a mire around us. The dark fuzz around my vision melted away—my magic gradually regenerating. I always recovered magic at an alarmingly fast rate. Most magic users had to make an effort to actively use their powers. I spent most of my time suppressing mine. When I let go, magic fountained out of me like a geyser. The first few times I had drained myself down to nothing, I stressed out for hours waiting for it to come back, but now I knew my rate of regeneration. Power trickled into me in a narrow but steady stream. As soon as I could, I’d draw an arcane circle and recharge.

  Alessandro picked up the flush bottle and motioned for me to nod. I lowered my head until my chin touched my chest. The saline solution wet my hair.

  “The cut is shallow,” he said. “Only an inch across, which is good, but it doesn’t tell us anything about the condition of your brain.”

  “My brain is functioning.”

  His fingers parted my hair. “You could be bleeding internally.”

  His hands in my hair made it hard to concentrate. “Am I still speaking slowly?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s fine.”

  In terms of magic regeneration, I was a freak.

  He sat the bottle down and picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment. “Hold still.”

  His hands were still touching my hair. It felt so intimate. Too intimate.

  “You can lift your head.”

  I brushed my hair out of my face. Alessandro knelt by me and leaned forward. His face was only inches from mine. He scrutinized my eyes, looking for something in there, probably some mystical signs of concussion. Only minutes ago, he’d disassembled the construct with efficient brutality, and now he was kneeling before me, and his eyes were kind and concerned.

  The rest of the world could be on fire right now and I wouldn’t move an inch to put it out.

  “Who am I?” he asked.

  “Alessandro Niccolò Sagredo, Prime, antistasi, second son of House Sagredo, Count Sagredo,” I told him quietly. “Playboy, assassin, and internationally known influencer. Did I leave anything out?”

  “Good enough. There is ibuprofen in this kit, but it’s a blood thinner, and if you are bleeding internally it would make things worse.”

  “I’ll tough it out. The painkiller in the injection should kick in soon.”

  He picked up the saline wash and touched me, his calloused fingers stretching my skin. I shivered. It hurt, and I didn’t care. I wanted him to keep touching me.

  Warm saline water ran down my side.

  “How many punctures?” I asked, to say something. I didn’t even sound like myself.

  “Four. Looks like only the tips of the claws. You’re lucky, angelo mio. Half an inch more and it would’ve ripped through your liver.”

  He called me his angel.

  I closed my eyes, trying to shut him out. The warm water kept running over my skin. With the heat of the summer beating down on us, it actually felt kind of nice . . .

  “Don’t fall asleep,” he said, his voice sharp.

  “I’m not falling asleep. I’m just closing my eyes.” So I won’t have to look at you.

  “Keep them open.”

  “Yes, Prime Sagredo. As you wish, Prime Sagredo. I obey, Prime Sagredo.”

  “Finally, proper treatment.” He pressed gauze to my side.

  I winced.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” he said quietly. “It will hurt more. Breathe through it.”

  “You breathe through it.” Wow. What a stunning display of wit.

  “I’m trying,” he said. “Believe me, I’m doing my best.”

  He worked quickly, rinsing the wounds, patting me dry with sterile gauze, and finally moving on to antibiotic cream.

  “How do you even know my second name?” he asked. “I’ve never used it.”

  “I run a private detective agency. It’s my job to know things about potential threats.”

  “If I wanted to be a threat to you, it wouldn’t matter how much you knew about me.”

  “Promises, promises . . .”

  His touch was featherlight. “Is the shot kicking in?”

  I nodded. The pain had dulled. I had lost the last defense against him touching me.

  “When was your last tetanus shot?”

  “Right after you left.”

  His fingers skimmed my skin just under my bra. A little spark dashed through me, all the way to my toes. He taped a square of gauze to me. His fingertips brushed the edge of my bra band. I bit my lip.

  “Almost finished,” he said, his voice reassuring, kind. “Do you need a minute?”

  You have no idea. “No. Let’s just get it done.”

  He was like a drug and I was a hopeless, desperate addict.

  Alessandro’s hand slid lower to the second wound. Another warm, careful touch, a flash of longing so intense, it nearly killed my common sense, another strip of medical tape smoothed into place. If I closed my eyes again, I could imagine he was caressing me, but if I did, he would make me look at him, at his eyes, at his face, and I would be forced to sit here and watch him kneeling in front of me, touching me, focusing on me to the exclusion of everything else.

  Alessandro moved on to the third puncture in the bend of my waist. He leaned in, brushing his fingers over me to better apply the gauze. His whole hand settled on my waist. He paused. His fingers lingered on my skin, unmoving. He swallowed.

  Oh my God. It wasn’t just me.

  He put the gauze in place and ran his fingers along the tape.

  The last wound was all the way down past the bend of my hip.

  Alessandro stared at the curve of my body.

  “Do you need a minute?” My voice was so sweet.

  “No.”

  He reached over and gently slid his hand down my hip, nudging the narrow strap of my white panties down. Heat pulsed through me, and it wasn’t any arcane venom.

  He set his hand on the curve of my butt, cupping it to stretch the muscle. I almost purred. His face was a neutral mask. He fit the bandage over the wound and tore the medical tape. He placed it on my skin and ran his thumb up its length. If I closed my eyes, the journey of that thumb would’ve blazed through my mind.

  Another strip of tape. He touched me again.

  If I leaned forward, if he raised his head, I could kiss him. He would taste like wine, heady and crazy-making. I would kiss him and kiss him, melting
against his powerful body, until neither of us could think anymore. Maybe I did have a concussion.

  The last strip slid into place.

  Alessandro looked up at me. His expression was almost cold, but his eyes were on fire. He looked at me the same way he’d looked at me in the opera house, just before he kissed me.

  I wanted him. Not the Alessandro in my head who left, but this one, full of darkness. I wanted to throw my arms around him, pull him out of that deep dark hole he’d fallen into, and make him forget everything except me. I wanted him to grin at me.

  He was still looking at me.

  I raised my hand to stroke his hair.

  He held completely still.

  It wasn’t fair to him. It was selfish and mean of me, because I was about to promise him something I couldn’t deliver. Victoria would never let him have me. It took every shred of will I had to stop.

  “Thank you, Prime Sagredo,” I said and pulled my underwear back up over my hip.

  A shadow of pain flickered over his eyes. It lasted for a mere instant, but he couldn’t hide it from me. He had expected me to crush him and I did. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly cordial.

  “You’re welcome, Catalina Beatrisa Baylor.”

  Chapter 9

  The headquarters of the PRP, the Pit Reclamation Project, occupied the smaller of the two southern islands in the Pit. It took us two more bridges and another small island to get to the final bridge leading there. This time, nobody tried to murder us along the way.

  Alessandro drove. He was still laboring under the impression that I had a concussion or a cranial hemorrhage, and my brains could leak out of my ears at any second. He didn’t feel I was fit to drive, and I decided not to fight with him about it.

  The cocktail of medication in the antivenom shot had cooled down the pain but didn’t banish it completely. My side hurt, the stabbing agony reduced to a low, dull ache that flared up every time I shifted in my seat. My head hurt too, but not bad enough to slow me down. It stopped bleeding and my hair was rapidly drying. I’d rolled it into a bun to hide the gash. My shoulder throbbed, a consequence of landing on hard concrete after being batted aside by a construct, and my right arm felt ready to fall off. The swords I usually swung were considerably lighter than Linus’ monster.