by Brenda Huber
“It’s so hot in here,” she slurred.
Sebastian’s attention shot to her face. Alarm flooded him. Hot? It couldn’t be more than sixty-five degrees in the house. He always kept his place cool. Maybe cooler than most. Kyanna and Carly were always complaining, accusing him of deliberately trying to freeze them out. But having spent a good deal of time roasting in the fires of Hell, AC was a luxury he refused to skimp on. No, the room wasn’t hot. Not by any means.
Phoebe swiped the back of her free hand across her damp forehead. Sebastian frowned and grabbed her arm. He turned it over with great care and examined the small red puncture wounds surrounded by angry purple bruises on her wrist.
Shit!
She’d been bitten. Not that the huge gashes in her shoulder couldn’t already be contaminated with venom, but the puncture wounds on her wrist and the angry coloration confirmed it. What kind of venom was the question. There’d been more than one species of demon in that cave. Best case scenario, it’d been a Charocté Demon. Worst case scenario, a Carpathï.
Not such a huge issue either way…if she were a demon. An angel stood a fighting chance. Slim, but a chance all the same. Even a Halfling with diluted blood might survive. Maybe.
But a human?
Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
His blood ran cold.
Now that he knew to look for it, he was beginning to scent the sticky sweet smell of venom taking hold in the blood seeping from her wounds. And he panicked. Not Carpathï venom, but something nearly as bad. Diffenidus venom. Beyond a doubt. He could tell by the distinctive scent, very similar to that of roses.
Why hadn’t he detected it before? Had the poisoning been too new, the venom not circulated enough through her system yet? Or had he been too wrapped up in his attraction to her?
Once, a very long time ago, Mikhail had tried to heal a couple of humans they’d rescued from a Diffenidus nest. But the humans hadn’t responded to his treatment. Instead, they’d suffered torturous misery so bad that, to this day, Sebastian wondered if it wouldn’t have been kinder to put them down rather than let the poison run its course. In the end, the humans hadn’t survived anyway.
No human had ever survived.
All the same, Mikhail was her best bet. But with Mikhail out of the picture, Sebastian had no idea how to heal her. What was he going to do? He couldn’t let her die.
He’d only just found her. And he hadn’t even had a chance to question her about the sword.
And, even as he tried to deny it, he couldn’t pretend that the sword was his only interest in her now.
“I think I caught a bug or something,” she murmured, and then her eyelids fluttered closed, and her body went limp.
Sebastian caught her before she hit the floor. Sweeping her up into his arms yet again, he cursed. She was burning up, what was left of her abused clothing damp with sweat.
His mind raced. He’d watched ER, and Grey’s Anatomy, and countless other medical dramas thanks to Gideon’s addiction to primetime television programming. But Sebastian wasn’t a damned doctor. Besides, not even a real human doctor could fix what was wrong with her.
That odd ache in his chest intensified until he had trouble breathing.
He wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t in his nature. He’d do whatever he had to do to give her a fighting chance.
First things first, he had to get her temperature down. He shimmered them both into the shower in the master bath. With a deft mental flick, he turned the water on, ice cold, and vanished what was left of her clothing. She came to with a gasp. He wasn’t sure if consciousness was a blessing or a curse for her right now. She moaned and struggled in his arms, a feeble protest at best, but he held her beneath the spray, as gentle as he might hold a newborn babe. She shivered, mindlessly trying to burrow close to his warmth.
Holding her at arm’s length when it was obvious she was so miserable was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. What he wanted was to cuddle her close and sooth her. Comfort her. Urges completely foreign to him. Yet he’d never felt this overwhelming tenderness, this gripping protectiveness for a female before. It humbled him.
He directed his attention, and his soapy hands, to the wealth of fresh bruises, welts, and cuts covering her lean body, and did his best to otherwise ignore the fact that she was naked in his arms. With as much care as possible, he cleaned her injuries. He focused on the puncture wounds on her wrist, cleaning them twice, but since the poison was so far into her system there was no point in trying to draw it back out through those wounds. It would only cause her further harm.
Her shoulder had been mauled, and he hated to touch it, knowing he would only cause her more pain. However, on the off chance there might be more Diffenidus saliva in the wound working its way into her system, he knew he needed to get it cleaned out. The ragged flesh still seeped blood, though much more sluggishly now. He touched the wound, and she cried out, pulling away.
The sound of her pain pierced his heart. Sebastian bit down on his lip, wrapped an arm around her to hold her to him, pinning her arms at her sides, and he forced himself to continue his ministrations. He was hurting her, though it was for her own good, and it was killing him.
That she hadn’t passed out already was a wonder. The pain he must be causing her. And yet, it was the only thing he could think of to do. He would see her better. He would not lose her now.
Sebastian held her beneath the spray of chilly water until his own teeth started to chatter. Only when her skin was cool to the touch did he turn off the water. He conjured a towel and wrapped it around her. His instinct was to bundle her chilled flesh in layers of soft, fluffy blankets and kindle a huge blaze in the fireplace. But he knew that was wrong, would only cause her temperature to rise once more and all the misery he’d just put her through would have been for nothing.
So he conjured himself clean and dry and clothed in jeans and a T-shirt, and then carried her to his bed. There he laid her down and eased her wet hair from her face. He conjured bandages for her shoulder and, not knowing what else to do, sat by her side and held her hand. And he prayed.
Her eyes soon fluttered open, but she seemed dazed. He managed to coax her into taking a couple Tylenol and drinking most of a glass of water.
Unfortunately, neither stayed down long. The violent spasms wracking her body as she got sick scored him with guilt all over again.
There had to be help for her somewhere. Desperate, he called Kyanna, but neither she nor Xander had heard of a cure for a human infected with Diffenidus venom. Kyanna suggested some herbal concoctions to alleviate the symptoms, and crystals to reinforce his ward stones in case the demon that had bitten her had forged a link. But he was pretty certain he’d already killed that bastard. More the pity. He’d happily decimate Sïnsobar’s nest all over again to seek vengeance over what they’d done to her.
He glanced at Phoebe. He couldn’t think of her as the Professor any longer, not after having tended to her in the shower. Desperate, he picked up the phone one last time. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Talk.” Asher’s deep, sleepy voice came over the line.
“Is there a cure for Diffenidus venom?”
“Hmm…not a cheap one.”
Asher was a legendary and lethal demon mercenary the Fallen had come to regard as—if not one of their own—then an ally, of sorts. He wouldn’t straight out agree to join their ranks, yet he hadn’t sold them out to the highest bidder either. That was saying something, considering the highest bidder was Lucifer himself, and the bounty on their collective heads was so high no demon in his right mind would turn it down.
There was very little Asher didn’t know or couldn’t find out. He never reneged on a contract. And he never failed when he was hired, be it for something as simple as locating an item or as damning as carrying out a cold blooded assassination. Of course, Asher’s assistance a
lways came with strings.
And a very steep price tag.
“At least, not cheap for a demon or angel,” Asher clarified, sounding a little more awake now. “Now if you got a human on your hands, you might as well call the priest and buy a shovel.”
“There’s nothing I can do? Nothing at all?” Sebastian asked, his voice catching despite his struggle to remain calm.
A long moment of silence stretched on. A deep sigh. “So we are talking human.”
“Yeah.”
Another long pause. “Bring her to me.”
The fine hairs on the back of Sebastian’s neck stood up. “I didn’t say anything about this being a female.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Where are you?” he asked, ignoring the smirk he heard in the other demon’s voice.
“Home,” Asher said, and then hung up.
Without a second’s hesitation, Sebastian conjured a T-shirt—one of his own—to cover her and scooped her up in his arms.
When Asher said home, he meant the castle. A castle of which, to the best of Sebastian’s knowledge, no one but a very select few even knew about. Possibly no one else but him. Centuries ago, Asher had called in a steep debt Sebastian had owed. As repayment of that debt, Sebastian had helped Asher lay siege to an honest-to-God castle in the highlands of Scotland and claim it for his own. And he’d been sworn to secrecy on the castle’s location. Asher’s home boasted turrets, tower rooms, and dungeons…the last of which, rumor had it, Asher made ample use.
Sebastian shimmered them to the courtyard and waited for Asher to come to them. The mercenary had his own protections over his lair. Protections Sebastian wasn’t stupid enough to mess with. Not even in the current circumstances. He wouldn’t be any use to Phoebe if he was missing his head or he’d been turned inside out. Literally.
A moment later, Asher appeared beside him. “Give her to me,” he instructed, holding out his arms.
“She doesn’t go anywhere without me.” Sebastian made no effort to pass her over, or to hide the surge of possessiveness sweeping through him.
“It’s like that, is it?” Asher asked, arching a brow. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the way the edge of the mercenary’s mouth curled up, or the hint of interest that now gleamed in his chocolate brown eyes.
“Droppin’ like flies,” Asher murmured, shaking his head. He turned and, as they stepped up to the thick wood set in even thicker stone, he waved a hand over the front door.
A low rumbling mixture of syllables and sounds passed Asher’s lips. Something far older and far more sinister than Sebastian had ever heard. Sebastian’s skin crawled at the surge of energy emanating from the demon beside him, an energy he shouldn’t, by rights, even be able to detect. That was Gideon’s thing. But sense it he did. He felt the protective layers over the castle waver and change. Not gone completely, yet Sebastian was able to follow Asher inside without incurring physical injury.
As soon as they cleared the doorway, Asher waved over the massive double doors, raising the protective barrier once more. Sebastian’s skin crawled.
Dark magic. Very dark magic indeed.
Extra enchantments that hadn’t been here the last time Sebastian had had cause to visit.
As if reading his thoughts, Asher called over his shoulder, “New wards thanks to Xander.”
Xander? Now Sebastian was truly puzzled. While Xander took precautions like the rest of them, he’d never been big into wards and enchantments. At least, not until Kyanna had come along. His Guardian mate gave a whole new meaning to the phrase packin’ heat.
But these were definitely not angelic enchantments. Sebastian frowned. Did this have something to do with the day Xander had nearly died? The Fallen been engaged in an epic battle with angels as well as demons in a meadow near Xander’s cabin. Sebastian recalled that day clearly. It was the first and only time he’d ever suffered a broken wing. Excruciating. It had ranked right up there with a horn removal, and that didn’t bear remembering.
Xander had disappeared with Kyanna, and some time later Asher had deposited a hysterical Kyanna on Sebastian’s doorstep. She’d been beside herself, going on and on about Xander dying and flaming swords and angels of death, so much so that Sebastian had been forced to ask Asher to use dark magic to bespell her into unconsciousness for fear she might hurt herself. Everything had turned out all right in the end. But that day in general had been a freak-show mess from the get go.
“Follow me,” Asher instructed as he strode down one barren, drafty, stone hallway after another.
Phoebe shivered in Sebastian’s arms. Her skin was clammy now. Her lips were blue again. She moaned and curled closer to his chest. Frowning, he glanced down. He didn’t want her fever to return, yet it didn’t feel right to let her freeze either. So he conjured a pair of those thick fleece lounge pants he’d seen Carly wearing once when she’d been under the weather, replaced the thin T-shirt with a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and put warm woolen socks on Phoebe’s feet.
At the end of the last hallway, Asher stopped and opened a heavy oak door. He arched a dark eyebrow at Phoebe’s new apparel, but withheld comment.
Wise demon.
“Put her on the bed,” he instructed as Sebastian followed him inside.
Sebastian glanced around. The room looked as if they’d stepped back in time. Straight into a fairytale. All they were missing was the sleeping princess.
A luxurious, massive four poster bed dominated the room. Expensive, forest green bed curtains hung from the canopy, open to the room on three sides. Feminine, antique furniture dotted the room, hand carved and delicate. A dresser here, a wardrobe there, a vanity complete with mirror, backless seat, and a silver brush set over there in the corner. Plush green carpet padded every step. The room had been painted a powder blue, and the ceiling looked like puffy clouds. Open. Airy. Spotless and dust free. Sebastian hesitated.
This couldn’t be Asher’s bedchamber, could it? Surely the very masculine demon wouldn’t claim a room so obviously designed for a woman’s use. But everything here was so…fresh.
The idea of placing her in the mercenary’s bed didn’t sit well.
“It’s the guest room,” Asher commented with a wry twist of his lips.
A guest room? Why would this anti-social demon need a guest room? And a frilly one, at that?
To the best of Sebastian’s knowledge, Asher didn’t have a mate.
“I don’t,” Asher gritted out, patience clearly dwindling.
Sebastian looked over at him, wary. He’d heard stories of Asher’s abilities. Were they true?
“It wouldn’t take a mind reader to translate the look on your face just now, Vengeance,” Asher informed him. It didn’t go unnoticed that he hadn’t answered the unspoken question, though.
“Put her down,” Asher barked.
Sebastian placed Phoebe on the bed and stepped back.
Asher sat down on the side of the bed, hip to hip with Phoebe. He peered over his shoulder, his expression dark.
“You’re hovering.”
“Sorry.”
Sebastian backed up several steps. But he didn’t take his attention off Asher, watching every move like a hawk.
Turning back to Phoebe, Asher laid one hand on her forehead, one hand on her chest directly over her heart, and closed his eyes.
After what seemed like forever, Asher opened those unfathomable dark eyes and pierced Sebastian with a look that would have worried any other demon. In all honesty, it even unsettled Sebastian, just a little bit.
“I thought you said she was human,” he hissed.
Sebastian’s mouth fell open and his brows snapped together. “What do you mean? What is she?”
“Not human,” Asher snapped as he turned back to his patient. Sebastian watched every move Asher made even more closely now. He tensed as Asher c
onjured a small vial of gelatinous, luminous green liquid. At the same moment, a parchment appeared before Sebastian. The figure on the contract was, as usual, astronomical.
“You sure you don’t just want my first born?” Sebastian growled as he pricked his thumb and pressed his bloody print to seal the bargain. The parchment disappeared.
“Not yet,” Asher murmured, all his intense focus on Phoebe’s face.
Sebastian’s brows snapped together. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
That was the other problem with Asher. Everything was a damned riddle. One that, more often than not, came back to bite you in the ass when you least expected it. Before Sebastian could question him further, Asher lifted Phoebe’s head with far more care than Sebastian would have thought the demon capable and eased the slimy green concoction past her lips.
Sebastian held his breath as Phoebe resisted at first, her precious face screwed up in disgust. But after a moment or two she acquiesced, accepting every last drop of the vile looking elixir. He expected her to get sick again, the way she had when he’d given her the Tylenol. But, though her eyes remained closed, her brow relaxed.
Without warning, a punch of power rippled through the room, and Sebastian tensed.
What the hell was that?
The power wobbled, and then settled down to a faint simmer, damned near unnoticeable. And it was coming from Phoebe.
Asher vanished the now empty vial and waved a hand over her mauled shoulder, conjuring a fresh bandage. He stood.
“Take her home. Change that bandage every few hours until the wound is healed.” He produced a small lidded container and handed it to Sebastian. “Put that salve on the wound. Keep her comfortable. And under no circumstances are you to give her any more human medicines.”
“She’s going to recover, right?” Sebastian asked as he accepted the container, unable to look away from the woman on the bed. That odd energy was still wisping through the room, causing the fine hairs on his forearms to stand on end.