by Karlik, Mary
Theo knelt next to their bodies, held up the lock of her hair, and stared at their souls. “As your ground, I command you bring him back.”
Aye. It was what she was meant to do.
With their spirits still entwined, Layla dove through her body and into Ian’s. She expanded her brìgh until it filled him, then repeated the last part of the spell.
“I give myself willingly. Full of—” She was supposed to say love. But she didn’t love him. Would the magic know? “Full of… respect, I allow my soul to heal thee.”
With her cheek against his cheek, and her chest against his chest, and her soul bound to his, she gradually increased her heart rate. Her lungs and limbs filled with blood. Warmth spread through her and she passed it to him.
Ian’s breaths grew stronger as his body responded. And when the rhythm of his pulse matched hers, she drew her essence away from him until all but a piece of her soul had separated from his and at last his heart beat on its own.
He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes.
Layla rolled off him. She should’ve moved away and given him space to recover, but exhaustion seemed to have pinned her to the floor.
Confusion fogged Ian’s brain as he looked down the length of his body and then at the people grinning at him. “Looks like I missed the party.”
“You were the party,” Buzzard quipped.
He sniffed his arms. “And why do I smell like an Italian restaurant?”
Theo grinned. “Herbs were part of the healing. It was fantastic to watch. You and Layla were ghosts for few seconds. But while she was taking you for a wee spin, your body healed. Look at your arm. Not a nick where that nasty beastie got you.”
Ian inspected his arm. Theo was right. There was a tug at the wound site, but no pain and no evidence of the gash, not even a scar. “Score one for magic.” He nodded at the candles. “And is that why I’m lit up like a Christmas tree? You didn’t do some fey voodoo on me? I’m not going to start craving brains, am I?”
“How could you turn zombie?” came Layla’s groggy voice from beside him. “You were poisoned by a dragon.”
“Kidding.” He turned to see her lying in a heap next to him. She looked pale and for the first time since he’d met her, fragile. “Are you all right?”
Dark circles lined her eyes. “Aye. Just tired.”
Something inside him squeezed as he watched the color fade a little more from her cheeks. He reached out, but couldn’t quite touch her. “Seriously, what’d you do to me?”
“Magical healing.” The tips of Layla’s wings fluttered and she looked away as if she were embarrassed.
Ian peeked under the silver sheet. “And I had to be naked to make it work.”
“Aye. It was the only way.” She closed her eyes. “You were near dead.”
“Thank you for saving my life.” As the words left his lips, he realized she was asleep. He felt a wee tug deep in his core as he watched her chest rise and fall. And with each breath he was filled with an overwhelming need to comfort and protect the wee fairy. He was grateful, to be sure, but this sense was more than just gratitude and it made him—uncomfortable.
He flicked his attention away from her and realized that every fairy in the room was staring at him. “I know you’ve all seen me bare-arsed, but I’d like to get dressed now.”
There was no privacy in the little cellar, but everyone backed away while Jack and Buzzard helped him sit up. Nausea swept through him and his vision swirled for a few seconds. Only he didn’t see black spots. Colors floated in front of him as if he was looking through a kaleidoscope. He focused on a single stone in the floor and after a few seconds the colors cleared and his stomach settled. What had the fairy magic done to him? Was this how they saw the world?
With Buzzard’s help, he stood to pull up his trousers and the kaleidoscope vision returned. This time the colors were more intense and distorted like he was looking through a psychedelic prism. Heat flushed through him and sweat beaded his face as he fell against the wall.
Buzzard held on to his arm. “Are you okay, Ian?”
“Just a wee dizzy.” It wouldn’t do to worry his team. Maybe the vision changes would pass. Regardless, he’d talk to Layla after she recovered and when they had a chance to speak without an audience.
He pushed off the wall and staggered toward the arched opening of the cellar.
Buzzard grabbed his good arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the loo.”
“Not by yourself. You’re too weak.”
He stumbled back. “Then you can help me.”
Buzzard supported Ian as he made his way up the stairs to the toilet. Outside the door marked Gents, Ian stopped. “I can take it from here.”
Buzzard released him. “I’ll be waiting.”
Ian had barely made it through the door before pain shot through his arm, contracting his hand into a claw. It only lasted for a couple of seconds before the muscles released and he was able to flex his hand, but the pain had been so fast and so intense it caused him to fall against the wall.
Buzzard knocked on the door. “Are you all right, Ian?”
“Aye.” He splashed water on his face and looked in the mirror. This could make for an interesting rescue.
He finished freshening up and Buzzard helped him back to the cellar.
Layla was awake and seemed to have fully recovered. The fey were gathered around her as if she were holding court.
She turned to Ian as Buzzard guided him onto the floor. “You still look like you lost a battle with a dragon, but better than a few minutes ago.”
He smiled. “The dragon is dead and I’m still hanging on, so technically I won.”
“That you did.”
Ian looked around the room. “Where’s Theo?”
“He went for something called take away.” Layla turned back to the fairies. “We’ll wait until deep night. There will be fewer humans to get in the way at the shop if things get rough.” She pointed to one of the male fairies. “Ruaridh, you’ll watch the shop and tell us when it’s clear.”
“Aye.” The fairy’s eyes sparkled when he answered and his wings spread wide.
Jack said, “Theo and I will lead the fairies to the shop. Layla and Buzzard will rescue the fairies held underground.”
Ian leaned his head against the wall and took in deep breaths. “I’ll be in the tunnels with Layla and Buzzard.”
Buzzard shook his head. “You’ll sit this one out.”
Ian shot him a look. “The last time I checked, I was still commander of this team.”
Buzzard crossed his arms. “You would expect no less if one of us had been injured.”
Ian nodded. “And you would quietly sit by?” He pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. “Not even a scar. I’m good.”
Another wave of pain hit him. He managed to keep his face from contorting as it shot through his arm. When it eased, he wondered if his team had seen what he saw. It was barely noticeable, but he suspected it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He angled his body so that his injured arm was pressed against the wall. It wasn’t much, but it he hoped it was enough to hide the fact that the skin on his injured arm now held the faint tracings of dragon scales.
Layla stretched out her legs as she sat against the wall on the far side of the cellar from the rest of the fey. The mood was light as they waited for deep night. Theo had returned with something called Chinese for the humans and shortbread and honey for the fairies. A few of the fairies had shifted human-child-size and were sampling the Chinese. Theo and Jack tasted the honey-dipped shortbread Shona offered them.
Aye, it had turned into a regular party.
Still, Layla couldn’t keep her legs from bouncing as she listened to the lads entertain the fairies with their tales of bravery. She had hoped they’d been able to remove all of the poison from Ian, but the fact that he’d gone from near death a few hours ago to lively and laughing kept her rolling the fabric f
olds of her dress between her fingers. Even with the healing she’d performed, he shouldn’t have recovered so fast.
And then there was his injured arm. He kept it close to his side and hidden from most of the room, but not from her. What had begun as a light outline of scales on his skin was becoming more prominent and dragon-like by the hour. And that sent ripple after ripple of nervous energy through her.
Buzzard crossed the room to sit next to Layla. “You’re not eating.”
She placed her hand on her stomach. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“You should try to eat something. You’ve been through a lot and there’s more to come.” He held out a box of Chinese.
She took the box and set it on the floor on her other side. “Is it natural for a human to recover so fast?”
“No. I assumed it was from the magic.”
She shook her head. “The only creature I know that can heal that fast is a dragon.” Her right leg took an exaggerated nervous bounce. “Have you seen his arm?”
Buzzard rubbed his own arm. “Aye. What does that mean?”
“There is now no question that his blood is tainted with dragon. If we’re lucky, the affected arm will be the end of it. If we’re moderately lucky, he’ll learn to command the beast that will surely challenge him for control.”
He paused with his chopsticks poised over his container of food. “And if we’re unlucky?”
She studied the fairies gathered around Ian and his lads. As weak as they were from their captivity, they listened to the stories with smiles on their faces and trust in their eyes.
Layla’s throat turned dry. She couldn’t imagine a dragon turned loose in the confines of this cellar with hundreds of helpless fairies. It would be worse than the carnage at the fête.
The church above should protect them, and Ian had entered with a good heart. If the dragon took over, would the protection hold? She swallowed hard. “If we’re unlucky, the consequences would be grim.”
Buzzard scanned the room and his face lost some of its color. “Aye. The fairies are sitting ducks. Do we need to get him away? Does he know?”
As if answering Buzzard’s question, Ian’s arm shimmered blue-green and his hand seized into a claw, with the first and second fingers, and the third and fourth stuck together. His face twisted into a snarl and his eyes flashed red. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to quiet the room.
Layla gasped as her body seemed to freeze all at once.
Ian jumped up and backed away from the fairies and toward the arched doorway.
Jack stood too. “Are you okay?” His tone was soft and even, while he maneuvered himself between the Ian and the fairies.
“I need some air.” Sweat beaded Ian’s upper lip and his eyes darted around the cellar as if he was looking at but not really seeing what was before him.
Layla fey-sized and flew to Ian.
He put his hand up. “Stay away from me, fairy.”
She human-sized and touched his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
Ignoring her, he pushed past Jack into the alcove and staggered up the steps to the church.
Jack turned to Layla. “I’ll stay with him.”
Her wings rhythmically opened and closed as if the action would quiet her thundering pulse. “Keep him calm and don’t let him out of the kirkyard.”
Jack nodded as he disappeared into the alcove.
Layla turned to the gaping faces of the fairies and unsuccessfully tried not to wring her hands. “He’ll be fine. He’s a good man.” She was about as convincing as a spider cajoling a fly into its web. Somehow her voice even carried the same high-pitched, singsong tone.
One of the male fairies flew in front of her. “Good man or not, what happens if the dragon poison takes control? We can see what’s happening to him.”
“I trust him.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “If he turns, his heart will control the dragon.”
“Trust is one thing, but where is that going to leave us if we’re alone with him? We all know a dragon’s appetite for fairies.”
A chill ran through Layla and without warning, her wings shuttered. No hand gestures or fake intonations could disguise the fear triggered by the truth. “Remember, you are in sanctuary below a holy place. Nowhere is safer. But I will make this pledge to you. I will not leave him alone. If he can’t control it, I’ll fight him myself.”
The fairy blew a resigned sigh through his nose. “I suppose that’s all the guarantee we can ask for.” He flew back to the others and slowly quiet conversation resumed in the cellar.
Layla huddled with Theo and Buzzard in the alcove. “That fairy has a point. No matter what, Ian must stay with me.”
Theo glanced up at the ceiling. “Is he strong enough to go with us on the rescue?”
His strength was the thing that worried Layla the most, but not in the way Theo meant. “The dragon has accelerated his recovery. He’s strong enough, to be sure. Whether he’s strong enough to command the beast inside is the question.”
Jack came down the stone steps into the alcove. “Ian wants to speak to the team in the church.”
“How is he?” Theo asked.
Jack shook his head and led the way back up.
Chapter Nineteen
Layla walked alongside Jack as he led them to Ian.
He stood at the back of the nave staring at a painting. “St. George slaying a dragon. I suppose I should be grateful he’s not here at the moment.”
“Don’t.” Layla placed a hand on his arm.
He flinched and backed away. “It’s hard not to think about it.” He motioned for them to sit. “You are my team. You deserve to know what I’m experiencing, and what I expect you to do about it.”
Theo, Jack, and Layla sat in the pew while Buzzard flanked Ian in the aisle.
“Obviously, dragon poison is still in my blood.” He rubbed his arm. “The beast is awakening inside me. I know there will come a time when it will demand I free it. I don’t know what will happen then.”
His eyes glistened and he took a couple of hard swallows. “I don’t trust myself around the fairies. And I’m concerned about compromising the rescue. But until it’s clear that I can’t lead this unit, we’ll move forward as planned.”
He tipped his head toward Buzzard. “As always, Buzzard is second in command. I trust that as soon as he feels I can’t lead, he’ll take over. He’ll do what’s necessary to contain me.”
His hand contracted into a claw and a white-hot burning sensation shot through Layla’s arm. Her hand didn’t change, but the pain was no less real and as much as she tried not to, she cried out.
When the spasm passed, Ian dropped next to her in the pew. “What was that about?”
Theo, Jack, and Buzzard all gave her an encouraging nod. Buzzard stepped away from the pew. “Me and the boys will give you some space.” The men followed Buzzard to the apse.
Wide-eyed, Ian slid down the bench away from Layla. “I can’t be alone with you. I know what happened to your family and I understand the hunger the beast feels. I won’t endanger fairies, especially you.”
“But you have to stay with me.” Ian opened his mouth as if to argue, but Layla put her hand up. “I’m not saying that out of pity or bravery. You saw how ineffective bullets are against a dragon.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye before she could stop it. She took a couple of open-mouthed breaths to regain her composure. “You saw in the painting how St. George slew the dragon. I have sword fighting skills. If the dragon takes over, I’m the only one who can stop it.”
Ian kept his composure except for the hitch in his breath. “Aye.”
She moved closer to him.
He leaned away.
“Look at me, Ian.” She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Really look at me. This is important.”
His gaze met hers and she felt a little kick deep within—almost as if their souls had reconnected. If he felt the same jolt, he hid it well. �
��I’m listening.”
She lowered her hands. “You weren’t only poisoned by the dragon. You had the plague.”
“As in, bubonic? That’s impossible. And even if it were possible, the incubation period has to be days.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I suspect you know the history of the underground passages.” She leaned forward and let her wings cascade open.
“Aye. It’s said the plague was rampant down there. There has even been speculation that the poor souls were walled up.” He stretched his good arm along the back of the pew.
“You picked up the disease from the ashes covering the walls. It shouldn’t have affected you, but with the dragon poison, it seems to have accelerated the effects.”
He rubbed his index finger along the wood grain of the pew. “Aren’t dragons immortal? How would it accelerate a disease? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know. Your body was trying to fight the poison from the dragon. Maybe it was overloaded. Once the plague took hold, the poison helped it along.” She sat back and folded her wings. Her stomach swirled. How would he react to what she’d done to him? She had saved his life, to be sure.
But saving a life and binding a soul were two completely different things.
With an effort, she lifted her gaze to his. “There’s more. When the plague hit, it was powerful. You went from talking to dying in the blink of an eye. There weren’t a lot of choices.”
Ian’s face grew pale, but he kept his focus on her. “What do you mean, there weren’t a lot of choices?”
She wanted to break the connection, to look anywhere but at that innocent human face, but she didn’t. “There was only one way to save you. It was tricky and there are consequences.”
“Like?”
“In the fairy world, when two people bind their souls, a healing takes place. It’s usually done between lovers. It’s a sacrament of sorts.”
“Like a marriage?” He broke eye contact and leaned away like the thought was repulsive.
“Aye. Sort of, but not always. Although frowned upon and in most circles considered a sin, the ritual can be done to save a life.” She licked her lips and hoped he wouldn’t hate her. “I performed that ritual with you.”