by Larissa Ione
Eidolon was at his desk, and he stood when she and Shade entered his office. He held out a file, as though he’d been expecting her. “Here’s your proof of death. If your boss has any questions, tell him to contact me.”
“Took you long enough.”
“You’re welcome,” he said dryly.
Shade turned to her. “What now?”
“I’m going to turn this in.”
“Are you coming back?”
“I doubt it.” She smiled. “Nice knowing you. Buh-bye.”
“Leaving so soon?” The deep voice came from behind her, startling her. She spun, coming face-to-chest with a tall, blond male she assumed was the one brother she hadn’t met. Wraith.
“Soon?” She stepped back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look at him. “I’ve been stuck here for way too long.”
“I thought you went home,” Shade said.
“Forgot my iPod in my office.” His blue eyes flashed at Sin. “Where’s Lore?”
“If I knew, he wouldn’t be missing.”
“He’s probably dead.” Wraith’s tone was matter-of-fact, utterly cool, and Sin wanted to punch him.
“Wraith…” Eidolon’s voice was quiet.
“It’s okay, Eidolon,” she said, still glaring at Wraith. “I can handle anything this guy can dish out.” She started forward. “Get out of my way.”
Wraith’s broad shoulders filled the doorway… and he didn’t move. “Easy there, Smurfette.”
Smurfette? “Move.”
“No.”
She hit him. Put her knuckles right in his perfect nose. He didn’t even flinch, and she got the impression he could have stopped her if he’d wanted to. Instead, he grinned, those wicked fangs gleaming. “You hit like a girl.”
She gasped in outrage. “I. Said. Move. I’m going to find my brother.”
He snorted. “If I can’t find him, you don’t stand a margarita’s chance at an AA meeting.”
“Y-you arrogant ass,” she sputtered.
“It’s not arrogance if you can back it up.”
She was going to kill him. She really was. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t give a shit that the angel chick could be hurting him, doing horrible things to him.” She spun to Shade and looked from him to Eidolon. “See? This is why I didn’t want to get to know you, even though Lore kept saying we should give you a chance.”
“Why would he say that?” Shade asked.
“I have no idea,” she snapped.
Eidolon steepled his long fingers in front of him. “I think you do.”
“And I think you can guess,” she shot back. “How would you like to spend your life alone, stuck in some backwoods North Carolina hovel, thinking you didn’t belong anywhere or with anyone?” She glared at each of them in turn. “When he found out about you, he thought that finally someone might get us. We might get some answers about what we are. But then—” But then I told him to stay away from them.
Oh, God. She’d been so freaked out, so concerned about herself that she’d kept him from the one chance he had to maybe relieve a little of his loneliness. And because of her, his brothers didn’t know him, and they wouldn’t be as willing to cut him some slack over the Kynan thing.
If any of these guys hurt Lore, it would be all her fault.
Nausea washed over her, and she broke out in a cold sweat. Shade frowned and reached for her. Her chest tightened with a claustrophobic sensation. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat.”
She wheeled away, swaying a little. “I have to go.”
Wraith casually braced his shoulder against the door-jamb. “Not happening.”
“I have to find Lore!” Sin slammed her palms into Wraith’s chest. “Move!” Again. “I have to save him.” Again, harder. The guy was a solid wall of muscle. “You have no idea what it’s like to be held captive, tortured—”
His hands circled her wrists. He didn’t hurt her, but his fingers might as well have been iron shackles for all they yielded to her struggles. “I know more about that than you can imagine.” His voice was calm and quiet.
“Let her go, Wraith.” That from Eidolon.
Wraith’s gaze flickered to Shade, who must have nodded, because he released her and stepped aside. As she darted through the doorway, Eidolon called out, “If you find Lore, let us know.”
“I’ll do that,” she called back. When hell freezes over.
Shade took off the moment Sin was gone, without so much as a good-bye. Wraith did the same, and Eidolon wondered when and if this was ever going to end.
Pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a killer headache, he headed to the emergency department. A male of undetermined species who looked mostly human except for the stubby set of black horns at his temples stood near the triage desk, head bowed and fingers clutching a long rope of beads… some sort of demonic religious artifact, probably.
That would be the exorcist.
Eidolon approached him. “How quickly can you have the hospital cleansed?”
The demon looked up, his hazel eyes swirling with what Eidolon would swear was fear. “It can’t be cleansed.”
“What do you mean, it can’t be cleansed? Why not?”
The demon looked around wildly and lowered his voice as though afraid of being overheard. “Great evil has a hold on the spirits who are trapped here. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Perfect. A chickenshit exorcist. “What is this great evil? Is it another spirit?”
“No. That’s why I can’t perform an exorcism. Whatever is controlling the spirits is a demon, but I cannot tell you who.”
“So who can track down this demon?”
“I know not. But it will not be me.” He shivered. “Great evil. Hatred such as I’ve never felt.” He scurried toward the Harrowgate. “I’ll send you my bill.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Eidolon muttered.
Someone tapped his shoulder, and he turned to find Runa. Shade and the children were nowhere to be seen, and Runa must have anticipated his question, because she cocked her head toward the ER doors.
“Shade is putting the kids in the car.” She shifted her weight and chewed her lower lip before blurting, “I hate what’s happening between you guys.”
“So do I, Runa. Shade is being impossible—”
Her fierce growl cut him off. “Don’t blame all of this on him.”
His headache was now a sledgehammer against his skull. “I’m trying to keep everyone safe. I’m not choosing Lore over Kynan, no matter what Shade thinks or what he’s told you.”
“What if it comes down to a choice?” Gem’s voice came at him from behind, and he swore silently. Nothing like an ambush to make a shitty day even shittier.
“It won’t. We will find a way to keep Lore from having to kill Ky.”
“I understand how hard this is for you.” Gem’s voice was strained, which given the circumstances, was completely understandable. “You have a new brother and sister you want to protect. But I’m telling you now that if anything happens to Kynan, not even Tayla can protect you from my wrath.”
Thirteen
Lore didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed a shower more. Granted, he hadn’t been chained up for all that long, but he generally showered twice or more a day, and going without made him grumpy.
At least he couldn’t hear Idess yelling at him anymore.
He’d cleaned her up and then beelined for the shower, ignoring her curses and threats and demands to let her go. She’d quieted down for a little while, but about half an hour into his shower she’d started up again, loud enough that he could hear her shouts of “Lore, damn you!” even over the thunder of water.
“I’ll be right with you, Angel Food,” he called out, and braced himself for her furious response.
She didn’t disappoint, and though he couldn’t hear exactly what she said, the tone made it pretty clear that it wasn’t complimentary. She said something else, something that sounded like, “Heave a rock,” a
nd that actually made him laugh. No doubt she’d like to heave a rock right at his head.
And she probably would after he took out Kynan.
The thought sobered him. Sin’s life was at stake, but so was Idess’s future. He shouldn’t care. Caring for her could lead to bad things. Like accidentally killing her, now that he wasn’t wearing Bracken Cuffs. Or like considering not whacking Kynan.
Fuck. The not killing Kynan thing was already tripping through his brain. Not that he wouldn’t do it. He would. But maybe he could put it off while Idess tried to find out who had ordered the hit.
Putting it off would be stupid. Procrastination always resulted in shit going wrong at the last minute. Always. But maybe he could—
Always.
But—
Always.
Dammit! Spewing the most vile curses he could think of, he shut off the water and toweled off. Sucked to have to dress in the same clothes, but it was better than nothing, and as he fastened his pants, Idess made an odd noise.
“Idess?” For a second, nothing. But in that second, her shower-washed words filtered through his head. “Heave a rock.” He glanced at his watch. Three o’clock New York time.
Three o’clock. Not heave a rock.
Fuck!
“Lore!” Her pained shout drilled into his brain as he blew through the bathroom door so fast the thing tore off its hinges. The nightmare that greeted him drew him to a halt more effectively than if he’d hit a wall.
Idess… on the bed… a Gargantua dagger buried in her shoulder. Sin was standing in the bedroom doorway, preparing to let a throwing knife fly.
“No!” He dove to cover Idess. An instant, searing pain ripped into his neck, and he dropped like a stone onto the bed, twisting to avoid crushing her. Blood splattered down around him, and he lifted a shaking hand to his throat. He knew what he’d find.
Sin’s throwing knife.
Her scream overtook the sudden pounding of his pulse in his ears. Sin wasn’t a screamer. This was not good. His vision swam and his hearing faded in and out and the next thing he knew his sister was right there, tears streaming down her face.
She wasn’t a crier, either.
This was way worse than not good.
“I’m sorry, Lore, oh, my God, I’m so sorry!”
“Hospital… Idess… too,” he gasped, but his words drowned in a stream of blood.
“Okay. Okay. Just hold still.” The fact that Sin so readily agreed meant that this was worse than he thought.
“Release me!” Idess’s tone was a command that should have ruffled Sin’s feathers. “I can flash him there.”
Sin didn’t hesitate. He heard the clank of chains, and then the next thing he knew, he was lying on the asphalt of Underworld General’s parking lot.
Idess was crouched beside him, her hand on his shoulder. “I can’t flash into the building,” she said, with a tremor in her voice, “and you’re too heavy to carry. I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t have the strength to answer. The life she’d said he had was draining onto the asphalt. He probably shouldn’t have cared all that much, but while he didn’t deserve for his brothers to save him, he really hoped they would.
Idess ran toward the sliding ER doors so fast that she stumbled over her own feet twice. The pain in her shoulder was nothing compared to the agony that streaked up her arm from Lore’s heraldi. He was dying.
Crying out, she held the dagger jutting from her shoulder as she ran. Blood seeped between her fingers and dripped to the ground, but she didn’t care. She burst into the hospital, and instantly, medical staff rushed toward her, but she gestured wildly toward the parking lot.
“Outside. It’s Eidolon’s brother. Get him. Hurry!” She didn’t allow anyone near her until Lore was wheeled in on a stretcher, a flurry of activity surrounding him. She didn’t understand much of the jargon the staff was using, but their tones and short sentences told her it was bad.
Then again, all she needed to do was look at Lore’s ashen skin and glazed eyes as he was wheeled into a trauma room to know that.
“We’ve paged Eidolon and Shade.” A female nurse guided Idess toward another room with a furry hand on her elbow. “And his arm is wrapped to prevent any accidents.”
“Good. Is… wait.” Idess halted. “Accidents? With his arm?”
“As I said, we’ve wrapped it. There’s no need to worry. The entire staff has been made aware of his condition.”
“And what condition is that?”
“You don’t know?” The nurse’s bushy eyebrows dove into a deep frown. “Anyone who comes into contact with his right arm dies instantly.”
Idess remembered his telling her not to touch his arm when she’d been cleaning him… was that why?
“Now, let’s take care of you. That knife isn’t going to come out on its own.”
“No.” Idess backed away from the Slogthu nurse whose underbite and patchy fur made her look like a scrawny bulldog. “I have to make sure Lore is going to be all right.”
“He’d better be.” Sin stepped out of the Harrowgate and marched toward her. “This is your fault.”
“Your blade is in his throat,” Idess pointed out. “Not mine. And I did bring him here for help.”
Sin’s fists curled into balls at her sides. “Just pray Lore makes it.”
Sin sank down in a chair and stared blankly into the room where staff was frantically working on Lore. He lay motionless on the gurney, blood pooling on the floor beneath him. A technician was squeezing the contents of an IV bag into him through a line in his left arm. Another was forcing air into his lungs through a mask and bag.
Please, God, let him live. A useless prayer, no doubt, given that he was a demon, but helplessness and terror had her desperate to try anything. Please don’t let me lose another Primori. Because that was her major concern. He was Primori, and if she lost him, she would never get into Heaven and earn her wings.
She was concerned only because he was her Primori.
The lie sat on her chest like an elephant, especially when one of the doctors stepped back to grab some sort of metal tool and she saw Lore’s hand dangling over the edge of the gurney. It was the same one he’d used to touch her. To pleasure her. And now it hung limp and lifeless, streaked with blood.
Idess’s chest constricted. Please don’t die.
His heraldi screamed with pain, as if someone was trying to scoop it out with a dull spoon. The excruciating pangs made her own knife impalement seem like nothing more than an insect sting.
Don’t die! She reached deep for the gift she shouldn’t use, the one that had the power to heal—or kill—and she never knew which it would do. But Lore was going to die anyway, so she could try it and hope for a positive outcome—
Eidolon exploded out of the Harrowgate. Thank God. If anyone could save Lore, it would be him. His hair was mussed and his shirt untucked and only half-buttoned, and he barely glanced her way as he raced into the room. Immediately, his dermoire lit up, and he was barking out orders and calling for an operating room.
Eidolon wheeled Lore out of the room, slowing just long enough to say to Sin, “I’ll keep you posted.”
Fourteen
Sin couldn’t wait. Couldn’t sit around and do nothing but snarl at hospital staff while her brother lay dying on an operating table.
Bile backed up in Sin’s throat, bitter and caustic, because what had happened to Lore wasn’t entirely Idess’s fault. But right now, Sin wasn’t prepared to take any of the blame on herself. Now? Try never, if Lore died.
Venomous pricks of anger stung her skin. She didn’t rage out like Lore did when he didn’t have enough orgasms in a day, but she did get irritable and ill if she didn’t take care of herself, and she had a tendency to fly off the handle with very little provocation. That certainly wouldn’t help her brother, and could possibly make things worse if she pissed off the wrong staff member.
The warning signs were creeping up on her, from her stinging
skin to muscles that felt stretched to the point of snapping if she didn’t do something to loosen them up. She could fuck something or kill something, and either way she’d get the release she needed.
She eyed Idess. Killing her would definitely trip Sin’s relief valve. Too bad she couldn’t do it, and not because of the Haven spell. Lore had taken a blade for the wench for some reason, and until Sin found out why, Idess got to keep her head.
So as Idess finally allowed doctors to treat her knife wound, Sin fled, trying to outrun her rage, her fear, her thoughts. She didn’t know where she was going, but anywhere was better than being alone in her own head.
Maybe the hospital had a gym, where she could beat the hell out of a punching bag. Or a pub, where she could beat the hell out of her liver.
She ran faster. Blindly. She had to go somewhere.
Before she got there, she ran into Conall. Literally. He collided with her when he stepped out of a room that, when she peered inside, looked like a dentist’s office. And sure enough, the sign on the door confirmed it. Demon dentists? Her brothers thought of everything, didn’t they?
“Hey.” Conall took her elbow and brought her to a halt. “You okay?”
“Stop it,” she snapped. “Just stop it! I don’t need their concern or yours or anyone’s.”
“Whoa.” Conall held up his hands and stepped back. “Bite my head off.”
She tried to dredge up a kernel of guilt for snapping at him, but she’d trained herself too well to feel that emotion. Well, that wasn’t true. She felt it, but it mostly manifested as physical pain in her killing arm. And this guy was not worth a scar.
Under any other circumstance, however, he’d be worth a healthy leer. Men in uniforms had never done it for her, but something about the way he filled out his paramedic BDUs did it for her far too well. From the black turtleneck beneath the black uniform shirt, to the well-fitting, multipocketed pants and huge combat boots, he was a solid wall of yum. Something told her he was as good at his job as he was at… everything.