by Tes Hilaire
Mike nodded, though he knew. The driver had to have been something else. Merker, perhaps. And it must have done something to shield what he and his buddy were doing. Either that or they scrubbed the human’s memories somehow.
“Thanks.” He wasn’t getting any more information from them and he was feeling steadier now. He didn’t wait for a you’re-welcome, or any other advice to sit on his butt and twiddle his thumbs, and took off down the street at a jog. Behind him he heard one of the good Samaritans swear, calling after him. He ignored them and pushed to greater speeds, rejuvenated with each step that he didn’t collapse.
The scent trail was strong in this direction. So strong he didn’t think he could be more than a couple minutes behind.
Please may they not have had another car close by. Please may I find her.
He didn’t get far down the street before their scent trail ducked into a park just past the school, cutting over to Close Ave. It seemed like they’d paused here, their scent signatures heavy as they probably discussed what to do now that their getaway vehicles were all crashed beyond drivability.
The beast growled, picking up on something he’d missed. From the crash site to here Katrina’s scent signature wasn’t strong. Unconscious? Unable to fight?
Not dead. He’d know if she was dead.
Christ and how would he know that?
Mate. Our mate.
Mike’s stomach plunged, even as his heart rate spiked. Could it be? Was it possible? He shook his head. That would be something to analyze later. Right now he had to find her.
The signatures were all over the place here, first south on the road, then north, then across towards some business that claimed to be the Bus Company.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, asshole?”
He spun back toward the northern intersection, his feet moving before he could think. There was a muffled oaf, then the sound of a car alarm screaming. Almost immediately it was followed by another scream: a woman, her voice filled with fear.
“Katrina!”
“Mike! Watch ou—” she screamed, her cry cut off at the very end.
Fucking assholes were going to die for touching her. He rounded the corner at a full out run.
And there they were. Beyond the unconscious human crumbled on the sidewalk were not two, but three merker, trying to push his Katrina who was kicking and struggling into the back seat of the still screaming car outside a body shop.
No fucking way. They would not take her from him.
Use me! The beast snarled, snapping at its chains.
Good idea.
He let the beast go.
***
Okay, this was really getting old.
Mike shook his head, trying to clear the haze that he knew by now was the result of another bloodbath. As always his memories were fuzzy, the taste of copper and something far more disturbing absorbing his attention. He took a deep breath through his nose, the scent of car exhaust and something else—something fishy?—lining the strong scent of blood and death.
The beast growled within him, urging him to get up and get moving.
That’s right, he needed to find…something? Someone?
He pushed to his feet, hands planted on his thighs as he took in his surroundings. He appeared to be in some sort of graveyard for old cranes, the waffle-board fence cutting him off from the traffic that he could hear beyond. Huh, he didn’t remember scaling the fence, yet he must have. But why?
He twisted, swallowing hard at the sight of the dismembered limbs that were scattered over cement and piles of metal alike. Out of the corner of his vision he caught one body that appeared to be whole, at least from the waist down, couldn’t see the rest of it behind the stack of scrap metal.
The beast growled, snarling. Her! Hurt!
And that’s when it all came back. The crash. Tracking the merker. The car alarm, Katrina screaming. The merker trying to take away his Katrina.
“Shit!” Bile rose in his throat as he rushed to her, noticing now the small size of the dirt encrusted Keds and shapeliness of the blood stained jeans.
What he saw as he rounded the metal stack sucked the air out of his lungs. His Katrina lay face down on the cement, her pale face speckled with glass cuts, her left arm twisted at an impossible angle, her throat reddened and already bruising from where one of the bastards must have tried to choke her. Still, that wasn’t what stole his breath. It was the blood pooling beneath her, the source somewhere beneath the T-shirt that was stained with red across her entire left side.
He fell to his knees, hands shaking as he felt for her pulse. Surprisingly strong. Gritting his teeth, he pulled up her shirt, sucking in a breath as he saw the four punctures that split open the skin on the back side of her waist. He pulled her hip up, seeing the concurrent puncture on the tender side of her belly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the wounds had been caused by claws.
Holy fuck, did I do this?
No. Ours. Protect! No hurt.
But she was hurt. And he had no idea what the fuck to do about it. Could she even be treated in a human hospital?
Within him the beast vibrated with tension, not liking the thought of the human hospital.
But if he didn’t bring her there, then where?
He had no fucking idea. But, perhaps, he knew someone who would know. He closed his eyes. He’d sensed the other Paladin talking around him. Had been able to catch Katrina’s thoughts. Perhaps…
Yes! Like this!
The beast tried to grab onto his conscious, for a moment Mike resisted, not sure if what he thought to do was the right course, not sure if he could trust the beast’s instincts in this, but the sight of the growing pool of blood beneath Katrina had him closing his eyes, letting go.
The beast didn’t control him long, just long enough to carve out a part of his essence, then pushing it outwards, seeking. He jerked a bit as he felt another essence grasp onto him. The essence was familiar.
The presence, definitely familiar, drew back, considering.
It wasn’t Jessica who responded, but another, one that made his teeth grind.
He could actually feel Logan’s presence trying to follow his back to its source. He had to resist the temptation to break the connection.
There was a flash of surprise, followed by an uneasy pause, then,
He looked down at Katrina, his body vibrating with terror at the thought that he might lose her yet, and knew his beast was right.
Chapter Fifteen
Nearby must have been an understatement. Five minutes at most? Mike had barely gotten the wound wrapped with strips from the bottom of his t-shirt, the blood flow slowing to barely a trickle, when a car pulled up, tires squealing, as it stopped on the other side of the fence.
First one over the waffle board was Logan, followed by Jessica, then the blond haired man who’d shielded Jessica the other day.
Logan didn’t even pause, scanning the destruction as he made his way to Mike.
“Is there more than this to take care of?” he asked as he bent down.
“I don’t know.” And frankly, didn’t fucking care. Couldn’t the man see his mate was bleeding out as he held her?
Logan reached for Katrina, but the moment his hands touched her skin he jerked them back, his gaze flashing to Mike. “She’s not all human. Succubus?”
Deep in Mike’s throat the beast growled. “Does that fucking matter?” Better not matter. She was his mate. His. He hadn’t thought about it before the beast had labeled her so, but now that it had, he knew without a doubt his beast was right.
If he lost her�
� He didn’t know what he’d do, but he knew it wasn’t good.
Logan shook his head. “Not to me. Not unless her actions make it necessary for me to care.” He glanced at the dead bodies that the other Paladin was stacking for Jessica to take care of. “Given they attacked her as well as you, I’m guessing she doesn’t have many fans amongst her darker souled kin.”
“Are you going to be able to help her?”
“That’s not within my powers.”
His gut squeezed, the terror spiraling closer to the surface. “Do I bring her to a hospital?”
“They could stitch the wounds and set the arm, but I don’t know if she is compatible enough to receive a transmission of human blood.” Unsaid was what might happen if they tried. “Besides, that would create a paper trail. And if she’s a defector you can believe that one of Ganelon’s minions will be looking for that sort of hit. Bad enough they seem to have already caught her trail.”
“Fuck.” Mike ran his hands through his hair. “What do I do? Bring her to haven?”
“God, no. I have a more open mindset than most Paladin. Bringing her to Haven would ensure her date with death, not prevent it. Besides, there are currently no Paladin healers.” He tipped his head, studying the bandages that were already saturated with red. “There is someone who might be able to help.”
“Who?”
Logan looked over his shoulder, snapping his fingers. “Bennett!”
Bennett looked up. “What’s up, mate?”
“I need you to drive Mike and his girl to the Bronx.”
The Paladin’s lips thinned, his face showing his conflict, but he nodded.
“What’s in the Bronx?”
Logan turned back to Mike. “Bennett will bring you to some friends we have there. When you arrive, you ask to speak with a Paladin named Gabby, if she’s not there, you can speak with her mate, Valin.”
“And these Paladin won’t harm her?” Mike asked, carefully lifting Katrina.
Logan shook his head. “No. Out of all the Paladin, they are the most likely to welcome her with open arms.”
***
The drive to the Bronx in the back of Bennett’s sports car was the longest twenty-five minutes of Mike’s life. Given traffic it should have taken far longer, but Bennett was a fucking NASCAR driver, finding spaces between cars that weren’t actually there. Mike wasn’t sure what to expect, but it most certainly wasn’t the old school house Bennett came to a skidding stop in front of.
Bennett left the car idling as he got out, and moved around the car to offer his hand to help Mike out with his burden. “Out you go, mate.”
Mike extracted himself from the car, careful not to bump Katrina, a feat in itself. He’d taken a couple steps towards the building, when he noted that Bennett wasn’t following. He spun around to see Bennett already climbing back into the Lotus.
“You’re not going in?” Unsaid was you’re not giving us a proper introduction?
Bennett paused, shook his head, his eyes haunted as he looked at the schoolhouse. “I’d be a poor liaison. I’m not welcome here. Not anymore.” He jerked his heads towards the door. “Just ask the guard for Gabby or her mate Valin. If they are not there, ask for Jacob.”
Mike’s jaw jumped. Jacob wasn’t a name Logan had mentioned. He didn’t like the idea of trusting Katrina’s life to someone who Logan hadn’t specifically approved, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. Despite his attempts to staunch the blood flow, Katrina continued to weep the life giving fluid. Her skin had gone beyond pale and was edging on bluish and she was…so cold.
Hurry, growled the beast.
Urgency snipping at his heels, he spun back toward the building, looking for this guard Bennett mentioned. It took him a moment to realize that the pile of rags by the front door was actually a man. And though the man was doing a fine impression of a homeless bum, Mike sensed the focused gaze upon him.
Guess that was the guard.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he b-lined for the guard. Stopping inches from the booted feet that stuck out beneath the rags.
“I need to speak with Gabby or Valin.”
The guard shifted, his head lifting enough so that Mike could make out part of his face. He fought not to cringe at what he saw. The man might have been handsome once, but that was before some sort of fire had gotten to him. The entire right side of his face looked all but melted, the skin pulled and puckered, contorting his features.
“Can I ask who’s asking?”
Mike didn’t miss the slight hiking of the material the guard hid beneath; suspected whatever weaponry he had hidden beneath was pointed at him. He fought the growl rising in his throat. Not the time or place. He was at their mercy, begging for favors for his half-succubus mate. He needed to tread carefully, not start a fight.
“Name’s Mike. This is Katrina. Logan sent us. Said you could help her.” And, oh, God, they better be able to. He pulled Katrina closer to him, trying to shield her from the biting chill.
“Logan Calhoun? Senior or junior?”
Mike sensed this was a very weighted question. He shifted, not 100% sure of the correct answer, let alone the right answer. Then he remembered the conversation he’d overheard when he’d been coming out of the fog in the basement of Haven. Something about Logan’s father. “Junior. His mate was my old partner, Jessica.”
The man grunted. The fabric settled and he reached up pressing something beneath the rags on his shoulder. “I have two guests for Gabby out here. They were sent by Lite Brite. One of them appears to need Shae’s services.”
He waited. And waited. And fucking waited. The beast growled, snapping at its chain.
“Easy there, man.”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t really. Couldn’t the man see that his mate was bleeding out in his arms while he stood here waiting?
The doors finally opened. A dark-haired man and a red-haired woman stood on the other side. She was tight and compact, her green gaze no-nonsense as she took in Katrina’s status. The man’s attention was fixated on him, his hand lying deceptively casual upon a large knife strapped to his thigh.
Paladin blade, the beast informed him.
“Gabby and Valin?” Mike asked.
The woman nodded, jerking her head towards the dim interior of the old school. “Come, introduce yourself on the way, and tell me how long she’s been unconscious and bleeding.”
Mike fell into step behind her, trying not to react to the fact that the man, Valin, had immediately closed in on his six. Logan had said he could trust them, and though Mike wasn’t the Paladin’s biggest fan, Mike had to believe Logan honorable. It stood to reason he wouldn’t have sent Mike into a trap. “Mike, Katrina. And I don’t fucking know. At least an hour now. Maybe two.”
Gabby frowned, but gave him a curt nod, the cadence of her footfalls increasing ever so slightly.
The halls weren’t completely free of others. They passed two or three other residents: two in full soldier gear and one in gym clothing. No one stopped them, not with Gabby in the lead. Obviously she had some pull here.
They rounded a corner, two doors down on the left was a lean, slim mocha-skinned woman, her dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her gaze quickly and professionally assessed Katrina, but it was the push of something more, and the explosion of nerves across the back of his neck that had Mike assuming this must be the healer Logan had alluded to being here.
“In here,” she gestured, stepping back into the room.
Mike followed Gabby in, gently laying Katrina on the exam table. The woman, Shae, the guard had said, started snipping away Katrina’s shirt and went to work on the makeshift bandages around her waist.
“I know her,” she said, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
“How?”
“That’s my handiwork.” She pointed to the stitches at the base of her neck. “I got a call from the women’s shelter a couple nights ago. She was tou
ghing it out, but bruised up and obviously panicked halfway to hell.” Her lips thinned. “Did her ex do this to her?”
Mike shook head. “Merker.”
Shae’s brow winged up. “Oh…” her gaze shifted briefly to Gabby. “I need you to give me room.”
Valin laid his hand on Mike’s shoulder, the grip steady and firm. “Come on, brother. Let Shae work her magic.”
Mike allowed the warrior to pull him back. Realizing that as much as he didn’t want to let her go, that his hovering would be more of a hindrance to Katrina’s recovery at this point than anything else. Shae had exposed the puncture wounds and immediately got to work, her hands glowing as she laid them over the worst of the punctures at Katrina’s waist.
“What is she doing?” he asked, he’d expected her to pull out needle and thread, but this? Whatever it was pulled a shitload of power because he was all but dancing with the tingle of nerves across his entire body.
“Sealing the wound. Shae’s gift basically allows for accelerated healing. She’ll seal all the wounds, set her arm, and if she has energy, start it mending.” Valin shrugged. “She’ll have scars though.”
“I don’t give a fuck about scars if she lives.”
Shae glanced up, giving him a wan smile that he guessed was supposed to be reassuring. “She’ll live. She’ll be weak for a few days because of all the blood loss, but she’ll live.”
He jerked his head to indicate he understood, though his beast wasn’t going to be happy until she’d woken and smiled at him herself. He watched as Shae worked, her hands gentle yet efficient as she moved from wound to wound. After she closed each wound, she cleansed off the dried blood, revealing the fresh puckered skin that yeah, was going to leave a pretty major scar.
“I’m only going to close the one wound on her forehead this way. The rest I’ll butterfly bandage. They’re not that deep and they’ll actually scar less.”
Mike grunted. Not really caring so long as she would be okay. Though, okay, she might care, so he was glad the healer was being considerate.
“What happened?” Valin asked.
Mike ran his hands down over his face. He was what happened. That’s what. He must have missed the tail. His neck had been tense with warning, but he’d missed it, thinking it was residual nerves from the encounter with the soul rider.