Healed

by Samantha Stone

  Ignoring the black spots blinking in front of his eyes, Cael threw his head back, grinning when he made contact with a loud snap. Heath cursed and released him.

  Powers or none, now the odds were against him. Raphael hadn’t set down his piece of wood, and Heath clutched his bleeding nose, a dangerous glint appearing in his eye.

  Cael wondered if he could get the two close enough to knock their heads together.

  “You can’t fight your way out of this one, man,” Heath said almost regretfully. “But if you want us to kick your ass before we talk, that’s fine by me.”

  In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Smiling wide, Heath disappeared before coming back a moment later, Sophia in tow.

  As usual, the scent of smoke masked the smell of wherever they had been.

  Looking around the remains of Cael’s bedroom, she whistled low. “Someone’s a little upset, aren’t we?” She snorted when she saw Raphael. “Mary’s going to kill you.”

  Raphael shot Cael a satisfied look that read, See? I told you. He set down his makeshift weapon, as did Cael.

  Sophia was a force to be reckoned with, more so than most men, but she was still a woman. Cael wouldn’t fight her, not if there was any risk of harming her.

  “What’d she say?” Heath asked, cringing when Sophia reached up and snapped his nose back where it should be.

  “She’s agreed to work with the vampires.”

  Relief crossed Heath’s face before his eyes widened. “Did you tell her—”

  “No.” Mischief positively radiated from Sophia. “She has no idea.”

  It was Raphael’s knowing laugh that undid Cael. “What are you talking about?” He growled, hating information had been kept from him. For Raphael, Sophia, and Heath to be discussing it, it had to be important. They lead the pack, after all.

  And I’m the lowest, the only man left who’s still under punishment. Sure, it didn’t have to be that way, according to the Elders, but he deserved this. To his knowledge, no one else in the clan had killed a woman.

  Then again, he wasn’t privy to why Alex had been convicted, but he couldn’t imagine his former friend committing such a crime, even if he was a warlock now.

  Which still made no sense. How could a werewolf be a warlock too?

  “There’s a group of vampires who want to move into the city,” Heath started.

  Cael stilled. He’d made damn sure there were no vampires to prey upon the women of New Orleans. Was he going to have to solve that problem once again?

  Raphael spoke. “We’ve come to an agreement with them. They can only feed if Aiyanna heals the humans, and she’s agreed to the terms.”

  “What?” The last thing he wanted was for Aiyanna to be involved with vampires. What would stop them from feeding from her? When he asked the group, Raphael cursed, but Heath didn’t hesitate to offer a solution.

  “Since she’s staying with—what the hell, Sophia?”

  She’d burst a ball of flames apart in front of his face, causing him to jump. “The man she’s staying with can accompany her to the vampires,” she finished for her mate. “I’m sure he’ll keep her safe.”

  “Like hell he will,” Cael said through clenched teeth. They didn’t want to tell him who Aiyanna was living with, but he’d find out soon enough. Then he may or may not disembowel the man, depending on how he felt in that moment.

  “I’m going with you.” He paused, suddenly realizing just how much of a commitment this would be for Aiyanna…and by extension, him. “When will she meet with them?”

  By far the most levelheaded of the three werewolves standing before him, Heath regarded Cael with an unreadable expression. “It may not be the most prudent idea, bringing you along.”

  “Not prudent?” Sophia exclaimed. “That’s like saying it’s not prudent to set a starving, rabid dog loose in a restaurant.”

  Heath shot his mate a silencing look, but he didn’t seem to disagree with her.

  “To answer your question,” Raphael said in an even voice, “they feed today.”

  Sophia and Heath exchanged a look, and Cael guessed what they were thinking. They were right. He would go, whether they invited him to or not.

  Ever since he’d first met Aiyanna, her safety had become a priority to him. As a healer, she has a distinct disadvantage over anyone else. She couldn’t heal herself, only others. The very magic that made her so rare, so valuable to those who wished to take advantage of her, simply didn’t work on her.

  He’d asked about that about a year after they met. A man on a bike had been illegally riding on the sidewalk near her home in the Irish Channel, and because she was jogging with ear buds in, she didn’t hear him coming around the corner.

  The man had slammed into her so hard one of her kneecaps fractured, her wrist broke, and her hands and knees were bleeding from significant cuts brought on by jagged concrete. She’d called him first, making him feel important to someone for the first time since he’d been sent to the clan prohibitum.

  “I need your help, and you’re the first person I thought to call. Can you come take me to the hospital?”

  Her words had caused his world to shift with worry, a rare occurrence in a life where he had so little to care about. When he saw her, sitting on the sidewalk with her leg painfully stretched out in front of her, blood dripping to the ground, his vision had turned red.

  Inexplicably, seeing her hurt made him want to rage until everyone who hurt her was dead and her injuries healed. He’d known in that moment that he couldn’t handle any damage to be done to this woman. If anything happened to her, he wouldn’t survive it.

  There was no reason to question why he felt that way. He couldn’t dream of being with her, of having a real relationship with her. But he could ensure nothing like this happened again.

  “Heal yourself,” he’d commanded, impatient that she’d let herself sit in pain for so long.

  At his words, she’d only blinked up at him with her amber eyes, a wry smile growing on her face. “I wish it was that easy.”

  Her smile had only grown wider when her words caused his claws to prick through the skin of his fingertips. “I guess you care about me then,” she’d teased.

  He never answered, only lifted her in his arms and took her to Touro’s emergency room.

  There was no way in hell he’d knowingly let her meet a group of vampires without his protection. In order to survive, they had to harm others. It was an unacceptable way of life, and one they likely chose for themselves. No, he didn’t trust them. It didn’t matter if they went to Raphael before moving into the city. They took blood from humans.

  He’d bet his favorite rapier that each one of them had willingly killed someone at least once.

  “Cael and I will go,” Raphael said, surprising him. He nodded at Cael, silently telling him he understood the determination to keep a woman safe.

  It wasn’t a concept Sophia would accept, and they all knew it. “The reason Aiyanna isn’t staying in her own home is so Cael won’t interfere in her life, her decisions. And it’s about damn time.” She lifted her chin in his direction. “I can’t comprehend why she would revolve so much of her life around a man who won’t so much as hold her hand. These new developments”—she waved her hands around Cael’s room—“are good for her, even if they suck for you.”

  When Heath opened his mouth, she stopped him from speaking with a hand to his chest. Her severe frown relaxed, and the sharp glint in her eye faded slightly. “We all know why you keep her at arm’s length, but enough is enough. Either sever ties with her or risk it all to have her. Just stay out of that weird relationship limbo you were in—it’s not fair to her, and whether you admit it or not, it wasn’t fair to you either.”

  Cael growled low. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sophia.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not. What Heath did was nothing compared the crime that landed you in this pack. But no matter what happened, yo
u’ll only be living half a life until you forgive yourself.”

  “Enough.” Since he’d become Alpha, Cael hadn’t seen him exploit his position. Until now. Everything about the dangerous tone of his voice and furious slash of a frown said he was pulling rank. Sophia listened, inclining her head respectively. Beside her, Heath only raised his eyebrows.

  It didn’t take a genius to understand why Raphael stopped Sophia’s rant. For five hundred years, he’d beaten himself up for the humans he’d tortured and killed before he was changed into a werewolf. It was only when Mary entered his life that he saw what he’d been missing: he was brainwashed by a man named Hans Ivar, the man who’d adopted him, an orphaned Estonian boy, and molded him to become a lackey to act for his violent church.

  If anyone understood his inability to forgive himself for killing Ava, it was Raphael. If Cael was anything like his Alpha, it would be another four hundred years before he would move past what he’d done.

  And even Raphael had drawn the line at hurting a woman or child.

  What kind of monster am I?

  One who wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He would’ve happily sacrificed himself for a chance to be with Aiyanna, but he wouldn’t risk her. It was a decision he’d made long ago, and one he wouldn’t budge on no matter what Sophia said.

  “We leave at six. Sebastian said your new furniture will be delivered this afternoon.” With those parting words, Raphael left the room, but not before he shot Sophia and Heath a look suggesting they do the same.

  “You’re a good man. Better than shit like this.” Heath took Sophia’s hand and the two walked away, Sophia sending him an unreadable glance over her shoulder.

  Cael sank into the ruins of his mattress. As heavy as lead, weariness settled over him, making him want to lie down in his own wreckage and cover himself in a blanket until he willed himself to face the world again. Since the night Ava died, he hadn’t been this miserable.

  And having lost his powers, making him almost as vulnerable as a human, he’d had some rough times since then.

  Had he never known Aiyanna, this never would have happened. His living space wouldn’t look as if it had been put through a paper shredder, and the floor wouldn’t have been swept out from beneath his feet, never to return again.

  He couldn’t bring himself to gamble with her life, but he might be able to do something that would bring her back into his.

  If Sean and Hugh O’Malley, Ava’s older brothers, agreed to his freedom and regained powers, he’d accept the Elders’ offer to reverse his sentence and show Aiyanna just how much he cared about her. It wouldn’t put him in the place she wanted him to be in her life, but they could be friends again.

  It would have to be enough.

  The brothers accepting his rescinded sentence was the only way he’d let himself take his freedom back. It was a last apology to Ava and her family, a final attempt to right the enormous wrong he’d made so long ago.

  Unwilling to face Heath again, he texted Vale, the sole other person he knew who could travel to Northern Ireland on a moment’s notice. It took a few minutes for Vale to appear, but when he did he took a look around the space, stepped back and narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m not getting any more involved in this thing you have going with Aiyanna—”

  “That’s not what I’m asking for,” Cael interrupted. “I need you to go to Belfast.”

  “Fine, but I’ll need a favor in return.”

  Cael didn’t hesitate. He was asking a lot of the other air elemental—more precisely, he was asking him to travel to Northern Ireland, take two unfamiliar weres from their homes and bring them here.

  There was a high chance one of the brothers would try to hurt Vale. If they were really unlucky, one or both of them would succeed.

  “Anything.”

  “Good.” Vale inclined his head. “I’ll let you know when I need it.” He paused, and Cael could feel the air around them shifting, preparing to take Vale through, away from North America. “What, exactly do you want in Belfast?”

  It took a few minutes for Cael to describe the plain brick house where the O’Malleys lived past the Catholic divide of East Belfast. He was certain the city still hadn’t moved past its religious troubles, and was glad Vale would be traveling there during the day. Like New Orleans, it wasn’t the safest of cities, and unlike Cael, he wasn’t used to looking over his shoulder for human threats.

  Asheville had probably made Vale soft.

  “Bring them to our living room, and get the hell out for at least ten minutes,” Cael finished. “They’re going to be mad as hell.”

  Not unreasonable, considering they were being taken far away from their homes without having any say in the matter. Luckily, they were both mediocre water elementals unless something drastic had changed over the past century. They shouldn’t pose too much of a threat to him or Vale.

  He nodded and disappeared, leaving Cael to shut the door to his room, feeling somewhat sheepish. He raced downstairs to the living room, a dark space in the center of the firehouse’s first floor. Couches outlined the area, which was attached to a hall on one end and the kitchen on the other. Thanks to Briony, the walls were a pale yellow with flecks of glitter interspersed in the paint.

  Lucky for him, he could only see the shimmer in the paint if he stood very close to it. Paintings lined the walls, one obviously painted by Mary from its bright colors and vivid portrayal of the Mississippi River. The other was more abstract, with slashing lines over a woman’s serene face, something Mary and Raphael undoubtedly picked up at some art show.

  He was still looking at the strange painting when curses sounded behind him.

  “You.” Hugh raised a finger to point at him. Sean merely stared.

  Expression impassive, Vale left before either of them could try to drown him or worse.

  While contrition filled every cell in Cael’s body, self-preservation didn’t allow him to move any closer to Ava’s brothers. Part of him wished he hadn’t asked Vale to bring them here in the first place. How can I blame them for hating me?

  He hated himself too.

  “I still regret what happened to Ava every day,” he started.

  “You happened to her,” Hugh spat. His Irish brogue was thick, just as it had been when Cael was forced to leave his country. Cael had been happy to shed the lilt to his words—he didn’t want any remaining connections to his past, and especially not one that could pinpoint a geographical location.

  “As you should,” Sean said with a nod. It earned him a glare from Hugh, but he only shrugged. “He’s been here for nearly a century, brother. If he wants peace after serving his time, we can give it to him.”

  “Never,” Hugh growled.

  Heartened by Sean’s words, Cael told them about the Elders’ offer, carefully watching their faces as he spoke. Hugh only seemed to become more furious, while a grudging respect etched itself around Sean’s dark eyes.

  At the very least, Sean seemed to appreciate what Cael was asking them, that he was including them at all. As far as Cael was concerned, Ava’s family could have chosen his punishment.

  “If you’re looking for absolution from us, you’ll never get it.” Hugh’s hands twisted, as if he wished they were wrapped around Cael’s neck. “You should be dead for murdering Ava—an eye for an eye. If living here with no powers is the most severe punishment our pack can give, I’ll never help reverse that decision. Do you know why?” He lowered his voice. “Ava will never, ever come back to us. That’s how long you deserve to suffer.”

  Sean looked at his brother, his expression utterly unreadable. “It was an accident. You saw Cael after it happened; that wasn’t the face of a murderer.” He turned to Cael again, and pity shone in his dark eyes. “You’re a killer, but you aren’t a murderer. If you feel better about gaining your powers back with our approval, you have it. I’ll stand by any decision the Elders make.” He glanced up and pointed toward the
ceiling, his other hand pulling a weathered gold cross from beneath his thick sweater. “Ava would have wanted this for you. She loved you.”

  Before Hugh could shout the curses Cael could see building in his throat, Vale arrived again. Hugh seemed as angry at Vale as he was Cael, which was shocking, considering Hugh’s reasons behind hating them.

  “We’re getting a charm to keep your kind away. The next time you arrive on my doorstep, you’ll be dead before you can disappear away like the coward you are.”

  Vale only shrugged. He wasn’t offended in the slightest. Many creatures, especially weres with air elemental enemies, had those charms on each entrance to their home. It wasn’t unheard of for an air elemental to drop someone someplace very unpleasant, like the middle of an ocean, down into a volcano, or dead center in the Sahara Desert. Cael had always thought the last was the cruelest option—and he knew a man who’d done it twice, albeit to very deserving foes.

  “I truly am sorry,” Cael said to the brothers, hoping Hugh could see how his guilt plagued him, how he barely spent a minute without Ava crossing his mind. Vale took that as a message to take them home, but Hugh saw him coming and avoided Vale’s outstretched arm, stepping closer to Cael.

  “I’ll make your life miserable.” Spit flew from his mouth, and now Cael could see hairline scars running up his neck. Unless there had been major changes in the Belfast pack, Hugh shouldn’t have had those marks. Sure, the city was a rough place, but Cael had considerably less scars from living in New Orleans.

  Hugh had to be involved in something violent to have those scars.

  “No matter what you do, you’ll never have your freedom back. You’ll be walking into another sentence.”

  Sean sent his brother a pleading look. “Hugh—”

  Before Cael could hear his words Vale took them both away, leaving interrupted air particles closing gaps behind them. It was still strange, sensing such a phenomenon after bearing witness to almost no elemental powers for so many years until his packmates were freed. Before, when he did see harnessed elements, it was always Jeremiah’s water powers, not any air abilities.