Mindhealer

by lillith saintcrow

  The Watchers struck, a collective force of Dark energy meant to rip their prey apart. Merrick started forward, but Keenan’s hand closed around his upper arm. So it was the younger Watcher who had picked him up. “No, Merrick. Let them.” His eyes glowed and his face was coated with the blackness of blood, wetly gleaming in the uncertain light. “This is the fifth one we’ve caught.”

  Crackling force hummed in the air and the enemy collapsed, twitching, blood exploding from his mouth and nose in a coughing rush. He made a low inarticulate sound of agony, and Merrick’s heart chilled with delight inside its cage of ribs. You would have killed her. For just a moment the thought of Caro’s mouth, her soft sigh, and the feel of her skin drove his anger down. But it returned, circling like a shark, and he started forward again, intent on adding his own force to the circle of Watchers and witnessing the death of this thing that would have harmed his witch.

  Keenan dragged him back again. “No, Watcher. Let it be.”

  “Stop it!” A familiar voice. Caro’s voice, bouncing back from the walls of the safehouse enclosing the garden. “Stop! You’re killing him!”

  That’s the idea, love. Merrick’s entire body gave one galvanic soaring leap of pain. The Watchers didn’t move, the crackling rush of Power battering the body on the ground. The wind rose, swirling as the enemy convulsed again, screaming. It was the scream of a rabbit caught in a trap.

  “Stop it!” Footsteps. How had she gotten down from the window? He’d left her safely in her room. Just like her to come running out. “Dammit, I said stop!”

  Not this time. Savage joy rose in Merrick. He pushed it down and shook free of Keenan’s well-meaning grasp.

  Caro stumbled over wet grass, more Watchers behind her. One of them must have brought her down. Better have done it carefully, if she’s bruised I’ll take it out of someone’s hide. The cold, matter-of-fact bloodlust in the thought didn’t frighten him, but he did feel a twinge of . . . what? Concern? A Watcher did not attack other Watchers.

  Christ, I’m even dangerous to my own side right now.

  Then Caro was beside him, her hair tangling down her shoulders, alive with light in the middle of this cold, rainy night. For the first time, Merrick noticed the rain flirting down, drifting on the cold wind that smelled like the not too distant sea, freighted with salt. He reached out, caught her, and pulled her back against him. The jolt of furious agonizing pleasure from her bare hands reaching up to grab at his was even stronger, if that was possible, scoring into wounds he hadn’t even noticed receiving. Two of them. I held off two Seekers and this—what the bloody hell is it? Who is it?

  “Stop!” Caro’s voice broke. Merrick clapped his hand over her mouth. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stopper her mouth in an entirely different way. He’d been in her bed. She’d allowed him close enough to touch her, close enough to taste, close enough to—

  She struggled, he held her back. This enemy was a new quantity. They didn’t know what he was capable of. No Lightbringer was getting close until the Watchers were sure it was safe. And even then, Merrick wasn’t convinced he would be able to let go of her.

  The feel of her drawn back against him, her softness twisting as she fought to break free, sent a sharp pang through him. He understood more about the Dark than he wanted to in that one single moment. He wanted to drag her away, find a quiet corner, and prove to himself she was unharmed in the oldest of ways, wanted to touch her and reassure himself. Wanted to catch her breath in his mouth and make her gasp and cry out. Wanted to pull her into him until the light that spilled from her skin was his, a lamp to light him back from the darkness of his own fractured soul.

  The pressure snapped. The enemy lay broken and useless in the middle of the circle of Watchers, pushed into the damp earth. A thin coil of black smoke rose from him, snarling. Four Watchers snapped the same word in unison, and the flare of knife-edged Power tore through the parasite pulled out of the enemy’s body. It took the shape of a wriggling black serpent for just a moment, then stretched, its crimson eyes dimming, the nose-scorching stink of it roiling against the fresh wind. Then the flood of Dark-laced Power from the Watchers shredded it, and clear air poured over the garden.

  Merrick’s hands relaxed. Caro slumped against him.

  “Would you look at that,” Oliver said grimly from the other side of the circle. His voice was freighted with harshness, cracking the darkness. “The bastard’s still alive.”

  Caro shook her mouth free. “Let go of me, Merrick.” The snap of command in her beautiful voice, so different from a Watcher’s, almost caused an instinctive obedience. Merrick glanced over the circle of Watchers, gauging the danger. “It’s safe, it’s safe enough, let go of me!”

  “Safe enough,” Oliver echoed. “He’s only human, and dying.”

  More Watchers arriving. Where were the Lightbringers? “Slowly, Caro,” Merrick found himself saying. “With me.”

  “Goddammit, let go of me before I take your knives!” Her voice broke, command turning to desperation, and every Watcher stilled.

  Merrick’s fingers loosened even further. But he still didn’t let go of her completely. “Take them if you want, they’re yours.” His throat was suddenly full of stone. “But I will not allow this thing to harm you.”

  A small ripple of motion went through the assembled men, their eyes blazing with the collective fury of the tanak. Swords slid back into sheaths, knives too. The snick of each blade being pushed home was very loud. Two Watchers moved forward silently and scooped up the ruined, broken body. They brought it to Caro, to show that it was harmless and also to keep her safe, keeping a grip on the enemy just in case.

  “We’ve had it all wrong.” Caro’s voice broke. “There were two waves of attacks. The seventy-two hour or more incubation period on the normals was for the new Seekers. The others, the psychics, they had variable times because they were trial runs for this. For the Crusade trying to make Watchers.” She took a deep breath, leaning forward against Merrick’s grasp, trying to reach the wounded man. “Get him to the infirmary. Get him to the infirmary now.”

  Oliver cleared his throat. “But—” The word trailed off.

  Merrick could have finished the sentence. He’s an enemy, he tried to kill you. If he’s a Crusader he will try to kill you again. Better to crush the viper’s head than let it bite again. And besides, once we yanked whatever it was out of him, he probably lost his hold on life anyway. He’s dying.

  “Take him to the infirmary,” Merrick heard himself say. “Obedience, Watchers.”

  Because each one of us was once like this. The Lightbringers didn’t have to take us in, offer us redemption. The realization stung him far more deeply than claw or knife could.

  Another rustle went through the Watchers, and Merrick had the uncomfortable sensation that plenty of the others had read his mind. Silently, the Watchers moved to obey, and Caro finally twisted free of Merrick’s nerveless hands.

  “I can heal him.” Her voice broke again. She was sobbing. “I can heal him, I know I can. I know how to reverse the damage. That’s what Asher had locked in his head that I had to bring out, it was the technique!” She tripped, would have fallen headlong if Merrick hadn’t blurred to catch her. The sweater she wore slipped. He slid an arm around her waist and held her up. “The infirmary. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Caro—” He couldn’t make his voice work. Irrational fear crowded the clarity of combat inside his head. He’d just disobeyed his witch openly in front of a crowd of Watchers. They would take his knives. They could cast him out or worse, if she told them to. And he would have to fight them, because he couldn’t leave her unprotected. He simply couldn’t, now that he knew, selfishly, how good it felt to be near her. To be with her.

  “Come on, Merrick! Hurry up!” And, wonder of wonders, she all but dragged him along until he collected himself, steadying her. Blood was drying to a gummy paste on his clothes, and he saw with a Watcher’s acute night vision the blood on her own face. Bloo
dy nose, maybe. She’d been too close to the Dark. Or had something hurt her?

  At the thought of her hurt, damaged, the rage rose in him. He stopped dead, head down, trembling with fury, fighting for control.

  Caro yanked at his arm. The Watchers were streaming away, some to carry the enemy to the infirmary, others spreading out to reinforce the shields and perform other duties in the aftermath of an attack. Twice, now, the Crusade had pierced a safehouse’s walls with their new Seekers. The walls and wards that had held for two hundred years were no longer so safe until the Watchers could figure out how to bolster them, outwitting this new peril.

  He didn’t care. He fought with himself, muscles locked with rage, his bones creaking.

  “Come on, Merrick. Please. I need you there to anchor me.” She all but hopped from foot to foot with impatience.

  “Are you hurt?” The words rose, each one edged with shattered concrete and broken glass. “Are you hurt?”

  “Of course not.” She sounded irritated enough that a thin thread of relief curled under the rage, managed to calm him a little. “Just my stupid nose. What—oh. Oh.”

  And then, miracle of miracles, she reached up and touched his face, her fingers slipping and sticking in almost-dried blood. The sweet agonized pleasure roared down his skin and calmed him the way nothing else could.

  “I’m sorry. I’m all right,” she said softly. “I promise I’m all right. What about you?”

  As long as you’re all right, I am too. “Fine,” he managed around the stone in his chest. “Just fine.”

  “You saved my life. Again.” Her fingers shook, a soft flutter of trembling that could have been exhaustion running through her. “Thank you. I’ve treated you dreadfully.”

  He almost choked. She’d allowed him into her life, bonded with him in the oldest way known to witch and Watcher, and she called it dreadful? “If this is dreadful, I don’t think my heart could stand kindness,” He realized he’d said it out loud. “No. That’s wrong. I’m sorry, Caro.”

  She had to stand on tiptoe, but she managed to curve her hand around so her thumb brushed one of his scars and sent another jolt of desire down through his bones. Christ, if this kept up he might snap, and he wouldn’t stop until he had her again—and slowly this time, proving to himself with every breath and touch that she was unharmed. His hands curled into fists.

  She pulled him down, her mouth met his, and he was lost again. Bloody, battered, and hanging to control by the thinnest of threads, he felt a curious comfort. His hands flattened against her back, pulled her into him. He tasted copper and salt and his witch. When she pulled back he had to restrain himself from trapping her face in his hands and kissing her again.

  She sighed. “Better?”

  Rain began to come down in earnest. It was too cold for her out here, and she wanted to go to the infirmary. “Better,” he rasped. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Very sure.” She eased away from him, but took his arm, her hand sliding through his leather-clad elbow. “Let’s go. Please?”

  Obedience, Watcher. Obedience. It was a reflexive thought, and one that he shouldn’t have had since he’d just disobeyed her in front of everyone. But it spurred him into moving, stiffly at first as the tanak settled down to repair some of the deeper and less critical damage. He did make one concession, though. He moved closer to her as they walked and slid his arm over her shoulders, taking her under his wing.

  He’d thrown his cards on the table; there was nothing he could do now. If they wanted to throw him out, they were going to have a fight on their hands.

  * * * *

  “Dear gods.” Caro was ashen. She wiped her face hurriedly with the washcloth, handed it back to her brother. Without the dried blood crusting her face, she looked even paler. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, they came right through the wall. The Watchers are patching it now. It’s chaos.” Trev’s dark eyes were solemn. He had a glaring-white bandage on his shoulder and his T-shirt was more than artistically torn. He’d been here since just after the attack started, sending his Watcher with the others to take care of the attackers while a contingent of Watchers guarded the infirmary as a last-ditch defense. Now Keenan hovered behind him, face unreadable.

  The infirmary buzzed with activity and the occasional cry of pain. “You all right?” This Trevor directed at Merrick, who blinked at a question like that asked so casually. He was a Watcher. If he was still standing he was fine.

  Maybe not a Watcher for very much longer. He flinched inwardly. “Yessir.” Fine as a feathered fowl and just ducky, thank you.

  “Where did they take the Crusader?” Caro set off briskly, her sandals shushing over the floor. The healers worked grimly, the air awash with humming Lightbringer magick. Other witches arrived in ones and twos, usually guarded by a Watcher who delivered them to the door and set off to reinforce the walls. Oliver and some of the others had gone to clear the streets outside the safehouse.

  “Which one?” He sounded honestly perplexed, trotting to keep up with his sister.

  “What do you mean, which one?” Her hair had come free of the messy ponytail and tangled past her shoulders, little drops of water caught in the curls. For some reason that made Merrick’s chest ache.

  “There are four of the Crusaders alive.” Keenan’s voice was flat but weighted with terrible fury at the word crusaders. “We ripped the parasite out of each one; killed the rest.”

  “How many?” Caro swung around a healer carrying an armful of linens. The green witch’s aura flared and ran with verdant light. She had a spreading bruise over her cheekbone in purple and red. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she worked steadily, determinedly.

  They’re so bloody brave. Braver than us stupid Watchers.

  “Twelve total, last I heard; four of the Crusaders,” Keenan’s lip all but curled at the word, “survived the stripping. North corner, this way.”

  “Did you recognize the Dark in them?” Caro sped up, Merrick matching his stride to hers.

  “No ma’am.” Keenan was boiling with silent fury, only barely controlled, his aura a hard, hurtful shine. Merrick understood. There were going to be a lot of very angry Watchers tonight, the rage would translate into Power and go into repairing the walls.

  The light glowed in Caro’s jeweled hair. “Trev?”

  “Yeah?” He snapped to attention, catching the seriousness in her voice.

  “Bring me every Mindhealer who’s bonded with a Watcher, I think there’s two or three of the six here. If they’re unhurt, I mean. Set the others to working on the witches here and keeping everyone calm.” Caro stopped short as a tall red-haired Watcher, his coat flapping in tatters, strode through right in front of her. He carried a water witch whose long dark hair dripped with blood, her draggled skirt wet and muddy.

  “Medic!” he yelled, and several healers swarmed toward him. Merrick pulled Caro out of the way and she gave him a grateful glance.

  Once they were past that and in a slightly less chaotic section of the infirmary, she caught Trevor’s unwounded arm. “Then canvass the Watchers,” she said urgently. “See if anyone knows what Dark that was. If they don’t, get a good description and call Mari Niege. Tell her to get her ass down into that Library and twist Esmerelda’s arm if she has to, but find out what it is. Find Fran. Tell her I need her. Got me?”

  “Bonded Mindhealers, canvass Watchers, call Mari, twist arm, Fran.” Trevor nodded, hectic spots of color standing out in his cheeks. He appeared, other than the bandage on his arm from flying glass, unwounded. “Got it.”

  Caro pulled him forward for a quick hug. Her skirt was wet, muddy at the hem, her feet were damp too. Merrick longed to drag her upstairs and find an empty room. Stand down, mate, he thought ruefully. Don’t even think about that.

  “Good.” Caro nodded, and the boy took off, Keenan falling into step behind him.

  The enemies were in the furthest corner of the infirmary, Watchers standing guard over their beds and e
yeing each with profound contempt. Now there were only two left, Ellis and Drake were busy carrying a wrapped shape that looked like a body away as Caro arrived. She glanced over the two remaining wracked and battered shapes on the two beds set side by side and let out a soft sigh, slipping out of the long sweater coat she wore and dropping it over a forgotten chair. “Which one’s more damaged?” she asked, and Hill—a short, muscled, intense Watcher with four instead of two knives and a very short buzzcut—snapped upright, all but saluting.

  “Hard to tell, ma’am.” His tanak gave the words a rough, hungry edge and his dark eyes blazed. “They don’t hold on long.”

  “Better off dead anyway,” another Watcher muttered.

  Amen to that, Merrick seconded silently.

  Caro drew herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing. As she did, one of the battered shapes convulsed, and the psychic dislocation of death smashed inward through its aura, collapsing into the foxfire of spent nerves. A rough stench familiar from any battlefield suddenly roiled through the air. Merrick’s hands closed around Caro’s shoulders. It was suddenly, utterly wrong. This fragile, indomitable woman should not see this. Especially not this.

  “No time,” Caro snapped, and shook away from him. “Merrick? Anchor me. Please.”

  “Caro—” You shouldn’t do this, it’s dangerous. They’re Crusaders, let them die!

  The other thought that rose was just as strong. Each one of us was once like this. I was like this once. I was bleeding from the belrakan and almost dead when they brought me in, too. Though I might not be a Watcher much longer.

  He let out a harsh breath. “Be careful.” His voice made the stone walls here at the north edge of the infirmary shudder, just a little.

  She looked up at him, her eyes luminous indigo, and the grateful smile she gave him was enough to make him instantly regret agreeing. His entire body ached, both with combat and with frustrated desire. “I will.”

  She moved immediately to the bedside of the remaining Crusader. She reached up, touching the silver chain that held the teardrop chunk of amber hidden under her sweater. Merrick almost flushed, remembering the necklace digging into his chest as his body lay atop hers. Don’t die, Caro. Don’t risk yourself. God, please, if you’re listening, don’t take her yet. I need her too much. He found himself beside her, catching her arm.