by LJ Rivers
Rosamund stood in the doorway like an amazon, shotgun leveled and a devilish grin on her face. Hoodie or not, she was a fury—fierce and frightful to behold. “Silver slugs, du Arschloch.” She cocked the gun and shot the dhampir once more.
“You could have killed me,” Leon shouted.
“Nonsense. I’m an excellent shot.”
Shaking his head, Leon surveyed the room. One dhampir lay motionless, his body draped around a wooden bench in impossible angles, bite marks, rips, and tears covering his exposed skin. Under different circumstances, nothing could have survived that, yet he was still drawing breath. It was barely noticeable, but he wasn’t dead.
The howl of a wolf pierced the air, chilling Leon’s bones. A crimson and white ball of fur lay by the fireplace, a deep gash spurting blood down her winter-colored coat. The howl came from her mate, who was now circling the female dhampir. Bite wounds covered her left arm, slowly closing as the skin grew back, and her blue eyes deepened in color as her fangs punched out.
Sensing the urgency of the situation, Leon located his gun on the floor. He folded his hand around it and aimed for the woman. “Wolfgang,” he commanded. “Get down.” The wolf leaped away from his prey, and Leon pulled the trigger. One to the head, one to the chest, then four more bullets whizzed into her body. She roared and staggered backward, falling on her back with a thud. It slowed her down, but not for long.
Rosamund strode past Leon with a machete in her hand, the shotgun slung over her shoulder.
He gave her a quizzical stare, and she shrugged.
“I came prepared.” She twirled the machete and swung the blade down. Then again. And again. The dhampir jerked and writhed with every blow. Crimson droplets sprayed Rosamund’s face and showered the black hoodie. She gave the machete two more swings until the dhampir’s head finally fell away from its body. Satisfied, she gripped the head by the hair and put it in a plastic bag.
“Where did the bag come from?”
“Kitchen,” she said. “Now, don’t just stand there. Get our girl.”
He blinked, quickly assessing the room. The remaining two dhampirs were still down, though tiny popping sounds issued from the one on the bench as joints clicked back in place. Wolfgang had abandoned the fight and was standing guard by his mate, licking her wounds. His fur spiked across the ridge of his back as he turned to the room, snarling and baring his fangs. But he didn’t leave his mate’s side.
No time to waste, Leon thought. He strode to the back wall and knelt beside Camryn. As cautiously as he could, he folded one of her arms over her torso. The clank of metal made him pause as he touched her raised hand. Handcuffs. He searched the floor and his pockets for anything to get them off. When he cupped his palm behind her head, something scraped against his fingers. A bobby pin. He released it, used the keyhole to bend it into the necessary shape, then picked the lock. The double-lock contraption proved a challenge, but the cuff finally sprang open. He folded his palm underneath to catch her wrist, crossing it over her other arm. Strands of umber hair streaked her face and were plastered to her skin. He brushed them away as best he could and leaned in.
“Cam,” he whispered, choking on his words. “Camryn?”
Her eyes stayed shut, and she didn’t stir. His only comfort was the vague, but steady rise and fall of her chest.
“I’ve got you, mon sorcière silencieuse. I’ve got you.” He scooped her into his arms and held her tight, cradling her to him like she was the most precious thing in the world. As he turned to walk out, the dhampir on the bench sat up straight. His onyx eyes shifted around the room, lingering on his beheaded companion.
“Monsters!” he ground out.
“That’s cute,” Rosamund purred. “We’re all monsters.” The firelight reflected off the already stained blade as it sailed through the air. The machete dug into flesh, a third of the way into the creature’s neck. Blood gushed down his shoulder as he bared his fangs in a grotesque display of exactly how dangerous he was. She went for strike number two. In a blur of motion, he shot to his feet and blew through the room like a storm, disappearing into the night.
“I suppose two is better than none, although three would’ve been best.” Rosamund held the bag in the air and gave it a small shake. Only then did Leon notice how both dhampirs in the room were missing their heads. “Take Camryn home. I’ll make sure Christelle is looked after. Right now, we won’t be able to get near her, anyhow. Wolfgang considers us all a threat at this point, but he’ll come around.”
“You think they’ll wake up?” He gestured at the fallen creatures with the tilt of his chin.
“Without their heads?” She adjusted the shotgun strap. “Anything is possible, though I doubt they’ll be regenerating their heads any time soon. Ursula said to burn the remains, right? So that’s what I’ll do. Honestly, Leon, I’ll take care of everything here. Just make sure you keep your gun close, in case that runaway decides to come back for seconds.”
That was all Leon needed to get the hell out of there.
Sweat trickled down his spine as he carried Camryn through the woods. She wasn’t some dainty flower, and the weight of her muscled body presented a challenge in the rough terrain. He spent a lot of time in the gym, but lifting weights was hardly the same as this. When Leon and their group had arrived earlier that night, they couldn’t park the car too close by, in case the dhampirs heard them, and there was still a semi-headless dhampir out there. But Leon was determined to make it. He had to. Whether the enemy was still itching for a fight was unclear, so Leon sharpened his ears as he went. Since he was holding Camryn in his arms, he had no way of sensing emotions, making him especially guarded. It was a tool he had used in many fights over the years, allowing him to predict his opponents’ intentions and moves. Although Camryn was hurt and weakened, her power had still prevented him from using his during the melee in the cabin. It made him second-guess himself and had almost cost him his life in the process. Going forward, he needed to trust his instincts more, and his power less.
The soft sound of a grunt demanded his attention. Her eyes were still shut, but every sign of life gave him hope. It also reminded him there was no time to waste. His heart raced as he continued forward, every shadow and rustle of wind giving him pause. Aside from dhampirs, there were other things that went bump in the night, and he quickened his pace as much as he could.
Camryn was not going to die. Not on his watch.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Camryn didn’t make a sound when Leon put her gently down in the back seat. With no time to waste, he all but hurled himself inside the car and stomped on the gas. He scrambled for his phone and rang the last number.
“I’ve got her,” Leon burst out before Dunstan got a single word in.
“Oh, thank my lucky stars. Is the wee lass all right?” Dunstan's voice switched to the car's speakers mid-sentence, as the Bluetooth established its connection.
Leon tossed his phone on the passenger seat and glanced in the rear view mirror. Camryn barely stirred. “She needs a convaler.”
“No can do. There are no convaler covens anywhere near us.”
“What’s the nearest hospital, then?”
Dunstan tutted, as if Leon was an ignorant child. “Not an option either.”
“And why the hell not?” he shouted.
“She’s never been to hospital, at least not since she was a toddler. Her name would go on record, and—”
“We’ve dealt with the bloodsucking bastards. The threat is eliminated.”
“Don’t be daft. Of course, it’s not. She’s a shield witch, and if her father doesn’t wish to come out of hiding to meet his daughter, even now, it’s our responsibility to keep her safe.”
“Screw you! None of that matters if she’s dead,” Leon hissed. Despite everything, though, he knew, deep down, Dunstan was right. But what did Camryn’s secret matter if she didn’t make it?
“Keep the heid, lad. I’m a picti, remember? All I need is a bucket o
f sunshine and a little luck. You have the address?”
Leon grimaced. The sun wouldn’t be up for a while yet, and this picti was getting on his last nerve. “It’s locked into my GPS.” He tapped the screen to activate the route to Edwin’s house and immediately wished he had changed the narrator.
“Your destiny lies with me. Now take a U-turn,” Vader commanded.
The road was narrow, and Leon had to drive away from his destination until he found a suitable place to turn around.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” the metallic voice chided.
“Oh, shut it,” Leon bit out.
“Excuse me?” Dunstan replied.
“Not you. I’m on my way.”
A bus stop was coming up ahead. Leon sped into the bus pocket, spun the wheel and floored it, nearly sliding into the oncoming ditch before righting the car again. Merde! Making a turn like that would have never been an issue with his old Mustang. But Lucille had sadly ended her life at the bottom of a gorge a few years back. He would never forget her, nor the excruciating sound of her impact with the rocks at the bottom. Now, with this modern piece of junk, with its front-wheel drive and fancy anti-spin protection, he couldn’t even pull the handbrake to do a one-eighty. He shook the irritation away, and turned his mind back to Camryn. While Dunstan had a point about her safety, picti magic always came at a high price. Judging by his success, he was one fortunate guy. “What will it cost her?”
The line went silent for a few beats before Dunstan replied. “Nothing she’ll miss. Either way, whatever the price, her life is worth it. Wouldn’t you agree? I believe a favor in my pocket will suffice.”
It wasn’t Leon’s place to bargain for favors without Camryn’s consent, but what choice did he have? “I’ll owe you, then.”
“Tempting, but that’s not how this works. The debt will be hers to pay.”
Leon glanced in the rear view mirror again, craning his neck to find Camryn sprawled across the back seat. Deep gashes and shallow wounds marred her blood-stained body, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He had no choice but to trust the picti. The GPS told him to take the next right. “We’ll arrive at Edwin’s house in ten. You’d better be there.”
“Already outside.”
Leon punched his fist on the steering-wheel. Trusting Dunstan was like playing roulette with Camryn’s life. But he was out of options. He pressed his foot down. The Danish countryside rushed by, the near flat landscape stretching out on either side. Street lamps lit the night, making the stars vanish in their glow. He followed the instructions from the GPS and prayed to all magic that he wasn’t too late.
Finally, he drove up a narrow road to a white brick house. The headlights illuminated the picti lounging on the bottom steps in front, as the mechanical voice spoke once more, “You have learned much, young one.”
Leon cut off the engine and went outside, vowing to change the GPS narrator to the standard setting.
“She’s got the key.” Dunstan waved his cane in greeting.
Key? What the actual fuck! Didn’t he have a spare? “She’s not conscious, you blundering little—”
“Try the inside pocket of her jacket.”
Leon opened the back door, and his throat constricted. The fierce woman he had gotten to know was gone. In her place was a wounded girl, frail and broken. He froze for a moment, afraid to touch her.
“Well?” Dunstan called, and Leon snapped out of it. Time was of the essence.
He folded her jacket aside and found the key. As gently as he could, he wrapped Camryn in his arms and strode to the house.
“Here.” Leon tossed the key at the picti, who caught it in one hand and proceeded to unlock the door. “Where to?”
“Down the hallway. Last door on your left.”
Leon nodded and went inside. He walked down the hall as instructed and found the bedroom, where he put Camryn down on the bed. Kneeling, he stroked his knuckles lightly over her cheek—the one that wasn’t bruised. “I’m sorry I was late.”
Her parched lips parted, and she made a gurgling sound. Slowly, her eyelids slid open, and she peered up at him. “Leon,” she croaked.
The sound of her voice nearly crushed his heart. “Hush, now. Save your strength. You’re safe, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
A brief smile touched her lips. “Is the bitch dead?”
“Estelle?” He fought the tears welling in his eyes and squeezed her hand. “Rosamund made sure of it.”
“Make room,” Dunstan commanded as he hobbled inside.
“There’s no sun,” Leon protested when a bone chilling thought struck him. “Besides, how would you even begin to use magic on her? She’s a shield.” The revelation made his stomach clench, and he gripped the edge of the bed.
“Aw, but you see, I still have my luck, and a bucket of sunshine. But it’s fading quickly, and I need to do this now.”
Leon gave the back of Camryn’s hand a chaste kiss, hoping beyond hope the picti knew what he was doing. “Dunstan will take care of you. I won’t be far.”
She dipped her head, and her eyes slid closed as Dunstan took Leon’s place by the bed. He lit a candle on the nightstand and put a copper pot down beside him.
Leon marveled at it. A pool of light was bubbling inside, and rays of it streamed over the edges, illuminating the white stone floor. The golden waves floated out an open window, as if attempting to drift away into the night outside.
Dunstan grunted and scooped up two handfuls of light. Shafts of gold shimmered between his fingertips like the venations in a rose petal. They began sparkling like tiny bolts of lightning between his palms. With the utmost care, the picti started weaving a net of sunlight across Camryn’s body. Every time the net touched a wound, it created a knot, and sunlight dripped down on her skin, radiating like stars in each spot. After a while, her body was covered in glowing light, embers in a dying fire.
Dunstan leaned in and whispered in her ear, just loud enough for Leon to listen in. “I need you to borrow my magic, Cam. Heal yourself. I can only take it this far, the rest is up to you.”
She blinked a few times, then sucked in a breath.
“That’s it.” Dunstan splayed his fingers, pushing the strands of light around. “Pull it to you and trust the power you’re given. Let it guide you. Heal yourself.”
The spots of light flared, glowing pillars exploding upward, creating a blanket of stars throughout the room. The rays pulsed, licking the air, before slowly retracting. Eventually, the lights dimmed, as each star glimmered out of existence, until all that was left was the single flickering flame of the candle on the nightstand.
Camryn gasped, and her eyes sprang open, a smile broadening her lips.
“That’s the best I can do tonight.” Dunstan patted her hand lightly. He stood and picked up the pot, where only a sliver of light remained, before it too seeped over the edge and vanished outside.
“Thank you,” Camryn said. “I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.”
“There will come a day.” He tipped his hat at her and turned to Leon. “Her worst injuries are healed, though the light could not heal them all. Darkness dwells in those wounds.”
“I’m not sure how you could heal her at all. Isn’t she immune to magic?”
He picked up his cane and rested the head of it on his chin. “She was weak and had lost a lot of blood, which allowed me to get close enough. My light is pure magic. It does not feed or borrow from anything or anyone. It’s as ancient as magic itself. Camryn did the rest. If she hadn’t been conscious—well, no matter, it all worked out. She only borrowed enough to heal most of her wounds, but it’s enough. She’s a strong lass.”
Leon glanced at Camryn, who gave him a weak smile of encouragement, then nodded at the picti. “You have my gratitude.”
“Well, then. Seems my work here is done for the night. Take good care of her, lad. I bid you farewell.”
“Good night,” Leon said.
When the front doo
r clicked shut, Leon approached the bed. A few bruises blossomed on Camryn’s skin. Blood streaked her hair and dotted her clothes, and the bite wounds were still there, but her complexion had regained its normal color.
She turned on her side and studied her arms. “I need a bath.”
“It can wait until morning.”
She shook her head. “I have to get out of these clothes and wash off the stink of monsters. And I have to do it now.”
“Can you even stand straight?”
She glowered at him and pushed herself up on her elbow, wobbling before slumping back down. “I might need some help. The tub is upstairs.”
His cheeks heated. “All right, Cam, I’ll run the bath and come back to get you.”
Once he got the bath running and had splashed a generous amount of soap in the water, he went back downstairs. She was better now, but he still treated her like an injured bird, carefully adjusting his grip as he carried her up the stairs. He set her down on a chair next to the tub, the steam from the hot water clouding the air and sticking to his skin.
She managed to slip out of her jacket, but was struggling with the buttons on her shirt. “I can’t do it,” she said quietly. “Help a girl out, would you?”
He wrung his hands. “Are you sure?”
“You’ve already seen me in my underwear once before. Don’t get shy on me now.”
As invited, he knelt in front of her and began unbuttoning her shirt. His fingertips lightly brushed against her skin, sending shivers up his arms at every contact with her body.
“Pants,” she ordered, and Leon complied. He slid the zipper down and folded the fabric aside. With one arm around her back, he lifted her flush against him and pulled her pants down with his other hand.
“Well, Mr. Nasri,” she breathed into his ear. “If I’m going to be naked, so are you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t—“
“Don’t leave me with all the embarrassment. Please.”