There was a shower curtain in place now where only a magical, invisible shield had kept the water in place before.
Damon pulled that aside and Diana’s gaze met his. A bit of her settled; some part of her that she couldn’t define but that always responded to the powerful fae that was her husband calmed down at the sight of him. But the rest of her over-wrought body was still thoroughly in the throws of its vicious hormones, and she could do nothing to cease her sobbing.
Damon didn’t ask her what was wrong. Because only a clueless asshat makes his pregnant wife stop to explain what is wrong when she’s crying uncontrollably. Instead, he said nothing – and stepped into the shower with her.
He didn’t bother to undress. He simply pulled her against his chest, wrapped his strong arms around her, and smoothed her soaked hair away from her face. She melted into him and shook with the weight of what she was feeling as he bent and tenderly placed a kiss to the top of her soaked head.
Several long minutes passed, in which Diana was aware of many separate things. The first was that her husband never spoke up, and his tender but firm grip on her never lessened, never changed. The second was that he smelled like rain; fresh and clean and wonderful. Even in the shower. The third was that her pain was ebbing, the yawning, open emptiness in her chest coalescing and shrinking like a pulsar star, convening at the core of her and slowly going out.
The fourth was that she was turning into a prune.
Reluctantly, Diana raised her head, pulled away from Damon, and turned in the ever-warm stream of shower to wash the crying from her face. The water felt good. It was always the perfect temperature in this particular shower. One of the many, many fringe benefits of living in the fae realm, even if you were in the “banished” section of it.
“I’m good,” she mumbled through her hands. “We need to get going.”
“You can take a night off.”
Diana opened her eyes and peered at him over her bare shoulder.
She went still, every sense she possessed suddenly going on high alert.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting – a half-drowned looking man with hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes soaked and damp around him, maybe. But that isn’t what she got.
Damon Chroi’s skin tight tee-shirt was plastered to his broad, sculpted chest, and his jet black hair was misted by the shower, shimmering and sleek like a raven’s wings, curling around his shoulders and face in a way that made Diana’s knees go weak.
And his eyes….
Those green eyes the color of tourmalines were sparkling and tinged with both gold and orange that wanted to burst into flame at any given moment. Even here. And even now.
Diana’s skin began to tingle. Her chest felt tight, her lungs a little empty. A new and different kind of warmth was spreading from her middle.
Damn him, she thought. Or, rather, her hormones thought. Whatever.
Suddenly, his god damned sexiness just freaking irritated her. Why did he always have to be so distracting? Did he do it on purpose? Just to get his way?
“I take a night off and someone dies,” she said curtly.
There were lives to save.
Diana was one of the few known individuals in the ranks of the supernatural world who was capable of alleviating injury and sickness through magic. She was a healer. Her touch delivered salvation from pain, from illness, and suffering. It gave new hope to children, animals, mothers, soldiers, geniuses, and good people. Second chances. They were waiting to be given and had.
Some would insist that everyone needed a break from time to time. A rest. But when Diana forced herself to stay home, to not go to someone’s side… she could hear them crying. She could feel their pain. It wasn’t easier on her to rest; it was harder. It was a nerve-wracking, knee-bouncing, constantly fidgeting, nail-biting wreck of a time where all she did was look at the clock, chew on her lip, and wait for her allotted “rest and relaxation” to bloody well end. So she could get back to work and live with herself once again.
There was no real argument to what she’d told her husband, and she knew it. He knew it too. And she knew he knew it. Even so, the way he looked just then, his strong, handsome features filled with concern and yearning in overwhelming and equal parts, she half expected him to find a way to argue anyway.
But he didn’t.
Because not only was there no arguing her point, there was no arguing with a pregnant woman. Especially a pregnant queen.
Damon sighed softly and ran a hand through that perfect, dark hair. “I’ll get the Atrox,” he said, referring to the vorpal sword he’d been entrusted with eons ago, when he’d first become King of the Goblins. “Where we’re going tonight, there’s been trouble.”
He stepped out of the shower, but once he was standing beyond the water’s reach, he turned, and placed his hand to her cheek, palming it gently. His eyes asked the question he dared not voice. Are you sure?
She nodded. “I’m sure.” She swallowed hard and hugged herself, forcing all thoughts of the damned movie from her mind. “What happened?” she asked him. She wanted to know where her healing ability was going to take her tonight, and why Damon would feel he needed his sword.
“To be honest, I don’t know exactly. Pi came directly from the mortal realm, sent by Roman. All he could tell me was that there had been an attack, apparently by vampires, and that no other healer was available.”
Diana frowned. She waved her hand dismissively, and the stream of steaming water ceased, leaving her naked and dripping. “You got a cry for help from someone we know and you didn’t tell me right away?”
“It just now came in. Minutes ago. And remember that time travels differently in the mortal realm.”
Diana bit down her retort and breathed. He was right. The time difference was slight, but different enough that not long had been lost.
She stepped out of the large, ornately carved granite structure that served as the shower, and as she did so, the air around her shimmered. A second later, she was dry and dressed.
She recognized the disappointment in her husband’s eyes, but he was quick to attempt to cover it up, and she was just as quick at ignoring it. There was more bothering her than Damon’s initial silence about Pi’s message.
If no one else was available to heal whoever might be wounded, that meant that Dannai Caige couldn’t help, since she was the only other known healer in their factions. Dannai, who went by “Danny” amongst her friends, had become like a sister to Diana of late as they’d worked side by side to try to set things right in the world. Tiny piece, by tiny piece.
For a moment Diana couldn’t help but wonder why the werewolf witch wasn’t available; Danny was as adamant about healing people as Diana was. But then Diana remembered Danny’s twins and simply figured it had something to do with the babies.
“Okay,” she accepted quietly. She waved her hand at her husband, and more of her incredible, newly-found power wafted out and over the Goblin King.
He touched his now-dry shirt without taking his eyes off her, and smiled.
“Thanks.”
She nodded, and he turned away to leave the bathroom. Diana followed closely behind.
He led them down several long halls, around a few corners, and up and down a set of staircases until they were in the hall leading to the armory. It was where the Atrox Ferrum was housed.
“Whatever it is that’s happened,” Damon said, as he neared the magnificent sword where it waited on its mount, shining and potent and proud. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“You really do think you’re going to need that, huh?”
Damon stood before the mighty sword, lifted his right hand, and the weapon dislodged itself from its post with a flash of light to reappear in its king’s tight, sure grip.
“Let’s just say, I’ve never so badly hoped that I was wrong.”
*****
It was Danny. She was hurt.
Diana knew it even before she reached the doo
r to the house. The moment she and Damon had stepped out of the portal and into the small lot in front of Imani Zaheeb’s two-story home, the tragedy of the situation struck Diana with brute force.
There were wolves everywhere.
The men who had not yet transformed into their canine forms sported glowing eyes and mean, hungry expressions. The others emitted low, dangerous growls, so soft each one was felt more than heard, but together, they vibrated Diana’s soul. Black fur, brown fur, gray fur, and eyes like the moon… everywhere.
They lined the parking lot, fifty or more forming a barricade against the rest of the world, and Diana could see more of them peeking out from the darkness in the surrounding forest. They watched Damon and Diana with silent, seething interest. Just waiting. Restless but hopeful, and undeniably angry.
The lights that would normally have illuminated the parking lot were out, and the lot was cast in the eerie green glow from warlock fire instead; torches containing the flickering green flames had been thrust firmly into the ground here and there.
At the center of the lot, at the foot of Imani’s steps, waited Jesse Graves.
He was dressed in slacks and a button-down, but whatever tie had once been there was long gone, the sleeves had been rolled up, and every ounce of gentility had been wiped from his handsome features. His eyes glowed yellow, like fire, in bright contrast to the dark brown of his skin.
Diana swallowed hard. Her instinct was to run, which was understandable. But was not to run away from them all, rather it was to run toward the house. To Danny. If the Overseer and his massive, dangerous body had not been standing directly in her path, his eyes boring holes through her skin and into her soul, she would have shot straight into that house without pausing.
Instead, she somehow managed to move slowly forward, her husband strong and steady at her side, the vorpal sword in his hand humming in the cool night air. They both stopped a foot away from Graves, and the Overseer’s expression took on a note of fear.
And that scared Diana more than anything.
“Danny needs you,” Graves told her. “But you need to prepare yourself.”
Oh gods….
“They did a number on her.” He looked pained then, trying hard to hold his big, bad self together. “The twins were unharmed,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t know how. But thank the stars. The lights are out. I’m afraid Byron Caige….” He paused, as if attempting to find the right words for what he was trying to say. “The lights are out for miles.”
Lucas, Diana thought. Please don’t say it. Please don’t say -
“Lucas is dead.”
A high-pitched keening erupted in Diana’s ears. The lot around her tilted.
That’s what he’d meant about Byron Caige. Byron was Lucas’s brother. Some alpha werewolves possessed extra powers, abilities beyond their tremendous strength and quick-healing. Byron was capable of manipulating technology, and more precisely the electricity that ran through it. No doubt when he’d learned of his brother… he’d blown a fuse.
When Diana couldn’t speak, her husband did so for her.
“What about Alberich?” Damon asked.
He was referring to Jason Alberich, the Warlock King, who had the very powerful ability to resurrect the dead. Damon had a very personal understanding of this particular power, as it was the sole reason he, himself, was living and breathing today. Jason and Diana had worked together to bring him back from the dead.
“Even the most powerful warlock needs a body to work with,” said Jesse. His voice was tight and his fangs were pronounced; he was moments from flashing into wolf form. “In this instance… that is something we no longer have.”
Chapter Ten
Lily Kane stood apart from the scene around her, trying to grasp a thread of sense in the twisted yarn that had become her life. She’d had a vision of something horrendous happening… but hadn’t been able to make sense of it. She could only assume this had been it. By the time she’d reached Lalura to ask her for help in interpreting the vision, it had been too late. The call for help had come in.
The damage was already done. And that had never happened before.
Lily shut her eyes and tried not to see the things that wanted to live there behind her closed lids.
They had ripped Lucas apart, taken him limb from limb. He’d killed four vampires in his struggle against them, but it was almost as if taking Lucas Caige apart had been their one and only goal, and eventually they’d overpowered him.
They’d had to deal with his wife first in order to do it; clearly they’d known she would only heal him if she could so much as touch him. So one of them had beaten her, violently bitten her, drained her entirely of her blood, and left her for dead as her children cried from the next room.
It was every parents’ worst nightmare, once removed. The worst being the loss of a child. The second worst being the child’s loss of their parents.
The entire werewolf nation had come to grieve. And to plan revenge.
Byron Caige had already gone with his pack, bent on avenging his brother’s death. There had been something in Byron’s eyes that none of them had seen there before. Something stark and unstable. The moment he’d arrived, power for the entire quadrant had gone out, and none of the witches or warlocks had yet been able to restore it.
Malcolm Cole had already gone with his pack as well, and Daniel Kane, Lily’s husband, had taken his men and sent out forces of retribution on two fronts – through both human and non-human grapevines. Everyone was looking for Lucas’s killer.
They planned to return later that night, whatever they found, and reconvene. Regroup. Lily would bring her son here too. Right now, he was being watched by friends. But the werewolf community needed to stick together now. They needed to stay close knit and keep an eye on one another.
Despite the horror of what had happened that night, for some reason… Lily wasn’t filled with the despair she felt she should have been filled with. One of her best friends in the world was lying on a bed covered in her own lost blood, and that friend’s husband had been slaughtered; there was no other word for it. Leaving twin infants without a father.
But Lily… couldn’t cry.
There’s hope still, she thought.
It made no sense. She couldn’t see how there could possibly be hope. Not for Lucas, anyway. But there it was all the same. Actually, when she considered it, she realized she didn’t exactly feel hope – just an absence of its complete loss.
Imani Zareb, Danny’s best friend, remained at the fallen witch’s side, on her knees, her hand curled in Dannai’s unmoving grip. Charlie was crying. Katherine was crying. Diana did so silently, tears streaming unchecked down her face as she settled in on the other side of Dannai’s injured, dying form and placed her hands over the woman’s body.
But Lily’s eyes were dry.
Across the room, in a rocking chair that wasn’t rocking, sat the high witch Lalura Chantelle. The ancient, powerful woman held a cane between her hands, grasping it lightly, absently. Though her crystal hard blue eyes had yet to leave Dannai, her adopted daughter, they were as strangely dry as Lily’s.
Lily’s heart skipped a beat.
Maybe she knows something. Maybe she thinks there’s still a chance, too. Maybe this hope isn’t false.
But then she pressed her hope down, hushing it, burying it under deep, dark numbness, so that when that hope was proven wrong, it wouldn’t hurt quite so bad. She told herself that the reason Lalura wasn’t crying was because she couldn’t cry. Sometimes the pain was so bad, tears wouldn’t come. It was like when it was too cold to snow. Sometimes the world was so cold, the temperature so painfully low, the sky simply dried up.
It did nothing.
Like Lalura.
Damon Chroi stood to his wife’s side, his hand on her shoulder. Diana knelt, one knee at a time, her face tight with grief and worry. She no doubt wondered whether she was up to this task. And she was pregnant, too…
could this harm her unborn children?
Damon’s fingers squeezed at Diana’s shoulder; Lily could see the white knuckled grip. He couldn’t have known he might be hurting his wife. His own fear – for her, for his unborn children – was palpable.
Light began to emanate from beneath Diana Chroi’s outstretched palms. The quiet room, with its plethora of mourning and terrified occupants, grew warm. The heat spread, born of Diana’s magic and radiating outward like ultraviolet ripples that kissed the skin and forced sweat to break out on the brow.
The temperatures rose further and further.
Lily’s eyes flashed.
She blinked, inhaling sharply but quietly.
For just a moment, the room before her had disappeared, and in its place had been something else, something stark, white and eternal. It was a pop of light and heat, and of sound like wind, hollow and open.
But it was gone as quickly as it had come. It’s just me, she thought. I’m in shock. I’m imagining things.
A few seconds later, Lily realized that the air had grown thick. The heat coming from Diana’s healing spell was filling the space with a sweltering kind of power. It was almost too hot.
Lily had only seen the Goblin Queen in action once before, but now that she thought about it, she was fairly certain this hadn’t happened the last time. There hadn’t been heat, not like this.
It’s Danny. It had to be.
Diana had healed mortal animals, mortal humans, and a fae king. But she had never before been forced to bring someone like Dannai Caige back from the brink of death. Dannai was the daughter of Amon Re.
And Amon was a god.
The blood that ran through Danny’s veins was literally divine. But that wasn’t where it ended. Dannai was a mage, raised by Lalura Chantelle, the high witch and the most powerful magic user among their kind. In addition, Dannai had been made a werewolf by her husband over a year ago. And on top of it all, she was the Healer – the first among their kind who could cure injuries and illnesses.
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