Broken: Hidden Book Two

by Vanderlinden, Colleen

  “Happy birthday, kiddo,” I murmured, hugging her back. She grinned, and once she was gone, I headed into Brennan’s room to check on him. His breath was shallow, his forehead almost searingly hot. I got a cool cloth and pressed it to his forehead. He didn’t even react to my touch.

  I watched him. And I sat by his bedside. Just after dawn, my phone rang. The doctor from Toronto who was quarantined along with the Grosse Pointe shifters.

  “Angel,” he said, his voice hoarse, his breathing ragged across the connection.

  “Doctor. How are the shifters holding up? Any progress?”

  “I’m afraid, the opposite. We lost two last night. Everyone’s condition, including mine, is worsening. I don’t know how to fix this.”

  I closed my eyes, fought back the panic rising inside me. “I am sorry, doctor,” I said, feeling the weight of two more deaths on my conscience, the impending doom of more. Almost paralyzing fear for Brennan.

  “This seems very localized. I have been in contact with other doctors across the globe. No one else is seeing anything like this.” He broke off in a coughing fit, and hung up with a strangled, “I am sorry.”

  I hung up and watched Brennan. “I will not lose you,” I said to him. And I laid on the edge of the bed next to him, and put my arm around him, over his chest, and watched him sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  I felt helpless. I stayed by Brennan as much as I could, and he eventually told me to go beat someone up, and I left him. I wasn’t happy about it, though. I ended up making my way toward Grosse Pointe. Bash and Dahael were in the back seat, and Ada rode along with me. As we drove, she joked, and told me about things that had happened at different sites throughout the city as we passed them. Her cheerful, warm nature was a soothing balm, and I was glad she’d offered to come with me.

  I glanced over at her. “Thanks for coming, Ada,” I said.

  She grinned at me. “Of course. I keep thinking I’m missing something with Brennan’s illness. I’ve never seen anything like it, but there’s a feeling to it….I can’t describe it.” She shook her head in frustration. “Anyway. Maybe by checking over a few more of the shifters, I’ll get an idea of what’s happening.”

  I nodded. Then I gave her a sly look. “Distract me. Tell me about what’s going on between you and Stone.”

  She laughed, and it was girlish and embarrassed, and I laughed a little, too. “Oh. You know…” she said, laughing again. Happiness washed over me, from her. Contentment. Love.

  I couldn’t help smiling. “You are so cute,” I said.

  She laughed again. “I ignored my feelings for him for so long,” she said shaking her head.

  “How long?”

  “Oh, at least fifteen years.”

  I glanced at her, and she shrugged. “I wasn’t ready. He and my husband had been friends, and it just felt wrong.”

  I looked back at the road in front of me. “Yeah.”

  “I regret that now. I could have had years of this happiness. I could have been loved, had a warm man in my bed at night instead of feeling so alone.” I could feel her eyes on me.

  “I don’t need a lecture, Ades,” I said, studiously keeping my eyes on the road.

  “I’m not planning on giving you one. Hear me out on this: I knew Nain for over fifty years. Yes, he loved you. Adored you. Died trying to make sure you lived on. Do you really think he did all of that so you would be miserable and alone forever?”

  “It’s like disrespecting his memory to even think of loving someone else,” I said quietly.

  “Honey, I adore you, but that is just crazy. And you even saying that reminds me that you loved him, and he loved you, but the two of you really didn’t know each other that well.”

  “He was jealous of Brennan when he was alive. We got into it at least once over him,” I said, confiding something in Ada that I’d never said to anyone else.

  “Yes. He was a demon. From what I understand, demons tend to be pretty territorial, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. But he was also, at his core, a good man. And you know that. Would he have wanted you to be miserable to satisfy some territorial bullshit on his behalf? Especially now that he’s gone? He was the main one who told me I should give Stone a chance. And my late husband was one of his best friends when he was alive.”

  “I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, or what I’m supposed to do, or anything,” I said, jamming the car into park after I’d pulled into the driveway at the shifters’ main residence. We sat there for several seconds.

  “You’re a good woman, Molly. You’re the strongest, most caring, responsible person I’ve ever met. Stop thinking so damn much. And stop talking yourself out of what you know is right.” She stopped, sighed. “You know, as well as anyone, that life is crazy. We only have right now. You have a good man by your side, one who would try to move heaven and earth if he thought it would make you happy. Life is fleeting, even for us supernatural freaks. You know this.”

  We were quiet for a bit. I took a breath. “We should go in.”

  “All right,” she said, reaching over and patting my hand. We got out of the car and headed up to the porch. I rang the bell, and a young male shifter opened the door. When he recognized me, his eyes got huge, and he bowed, thumped a hand over his chest. I said hello, tried not to grimace. For some reason, the other supernaturals in the city had started adopting my imps’ show of respect as their own. It freaked me out, more than a little. I did not deserve the respect or trust they had in me.

  “We were hoping to see a few of the ill shifters,” I said softly to him. “I understand you’ve had losses. I am so sorry,” I said.

  He looked up at me and nodded. “We lost two of our younger shifters last night. Children. We thought this thing would take the elders first, but the young seem to be succumbing more quickly. We lost another just a little before you arrived. He was in his thirties,” he finished, walking up the stairs, leading us to the second floor. I asked him to describe the symptoms, and he did, recounting the same symptoms Brennan was showing. My gut twisted with worry. Shifters bowed, thumped their chests in deference as we passed, and I tried to make a point of saying hello, shaking hands.

  “Anastasia’s mother? How is she?” I asked, remembering the first shifter who’d contracted the illness.

  Our guide shook his head. “She seems worse the last day or two. Her breathing is worse, and she’s mostly delirious.” He stopped, looked at me. “Based on what we saw with the ones we’ve lost, once they hit the delirious phase, it seems to progress rapidly. It’s as if their innate strength as shifters gives out at that point, and it overtakes them.” I could feel the helplessness, sadness from him. “When the doctor first arrived, we were hopeful. A few more of us had started showing symptoms. She seemed better at first, when the doctor gave her the first dose of antibiotics. But then it was all downhill.”

  “Have any of you tried shifting to stall the symptoms? I know Brennan is more resilient when he’s in his animal form,” I said, feeling stupid not to have thought of it before.

  He nodded. “We thought the same thing. If anything, it makes it worse when we shift. It seems to speed up the process.”

  He showed us into a long room that seemed to be being used as a sick room. Six small cots lined the walls, nothing else in the room. “We have four rooms like this. We’re trying to keep the sick shifters together, away from the rest. The healthy shifters are all living in the other house, and the sick have been moved here.”

  I looked at him. “So, you…?”

  He smiled grimly. “I started showing symptoms yesterday morning.”

  I nodded. I watched as Ada checked over the ill, talked to them in low tones. After a while, she turned to me, eyes bright with tears. She shook her head. She walked over to me. “This is beyond anything I know. Whatever this is, it is like nothing I’ve seen before. And I’ve seen a lot. I’ve healed a lot. I thought maybe getting an idea of how other shifters were
responding would help me, but they all have symptoms identical to what I’m seeing in Brennan.”

  The young shifter nodded. “It’s kind of creepy how exact the symptoms are. With the flu or something, you might see similar symptoms, but some will be worse in some people and not so bad in others. Two people can have the flu, but be experiencing varying levels of discomfort. This? You can almost set your watch by it: cough, fever, loss of appetite, sweating, chills, increased sleep, festering sores on the chest, delirium, infection of sores, death.”

  I looked around, and felt my fear about to drown me. Beating up monsters? I could do that. Living through massive explosions? Fine. There was not a damn thing I could do for this. There was no one I could rough up to make this better, and there was no one I could kill to end it. I wanted to tear my hair out in frustration and fear. All I could think about was Brennan.

  We stayed a while longer, and I asked the shifter to call me if they needed anything at all. He thanked me for coming, and I felt like shit. I had done nothing for them. Nothing. These were my people, in my city, suffering, and I couldn’t do a damn thing for them.

  Ada and I drove home in silence. When we got there, she went to her room, saying she needed to meditate.

  I want up to Brennan’s room, stayed by his side through the rest of that day, into the night. The following day, I canceled appointments, sent Ada and Stone out on patrol, called in favors from those who owed me for help I’d given them. The city could survive without me for a little while. I was not leaving him.

  He was mostly delirious. Fear gripped me, wouldn’t let go. The fever just rose, and I constantly put cold cloths on his forehead, behind his neck. I made him drink when he did manage to wake up. I cursed the fact that here I was, a god, basically, and there was nothing I could do for him.

  I stretched out on the bed, held him whenever I wasn’t fruitlessly applying cold cloths to his head. He woke up, briefly, around midnight, slate blue eyes opening and finding me next to him.

  “Molly,” he said hoarsely.

  “Hey,” I said, running my hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I’m here.”

  “You’re here,” he murmured. “I love you.”

  I rested my forehead against his shoulder. I bit my lip against the sobs that wanted to escape. “You too,” I whispered. He was already out again, and I stayed, holding him. After a while, I got up, wetted another cloth, pressed it to his burning forehead. I went to pull the sheets up to his throat again, and realized they were damp.

  He’d soaked through them with his sweat. I pulled the old ones off to replace them with new, dry ones, and glanced at his bare chest. It rose and fell shallowly. I could hear each rattling breath he took. The long scar he’d gotten as a teenager stood, stark and painful looking on his now-pale skin. I stared when I noticed a tattoo. He hadn’t had that before, but it had been months since I’d seen him without a shirt. On his chest, over his heart, an “M” in black; sharp thorns poking from the curves in the letter. “Brennan,” I whispered, as I wiped my stupid, teary eyes.

  I also noticed that he was starting to break out in oozing sores. I fought against the panic rising inside me. I washed them, rubbed them with antibiotic cream, and covered them with gauze, knowing it was pointless.

  I covered him up after glancing at the tattoo again. I wondered when he’d gotten it. Wondered if he regretted it. I laid down next to him again, and held him, and willed him to be better. Heat just radiated from him, almost too hot for me to be comfortable near him. I stayed anyway.

  I dozed off, until I felt power in the room, and saw Eunomia swoop in, black wings extended, and land at the foot of Brennan’s bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  I lost my mind.

  “You are not taking him!” I screeched, launching myself at her and knocking her to the floor. I barely registered the look of shock on her face as we tumbled to the ground.

  She struggled against me as I wrestled her down, held her there.

  “Would you get a grip demon girl? What the Nether has gotten into you?” she asked.

  “You can’t take him. I won’t let you,” I said, and I felt my face crumple and sobs wracked my body. “You can’t.”

  “I am not here to take him from you,” Eunomia whispered. “My friend. I swear it. I am not taking him.”

  “Promise me. I can’t lose him,” I whispered.

  “I promise. I promise,” she said, soothing me even as I pinned her to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, climbing off of her and wiping at my tears. I helped her up, and she stood next to me, watching Brennan.

  “Three shifters died yesterday,” I said, trying to explain my reaction.

  “And four more last night. We just collected the last. That was why I came to check on you.” She continued to look at Brennan. “May I?” she asked. “I just want to feel him. I am not taking him,” she reassured me again. “It is not his time. Not just yet, anyway.”

  I nodded, watching her like a hawk. She went to Brennan’s bedside, put her hand on his forehead, his chest. She closed her eyes, and grimaced.

  “Come. See if you can feel what I feel,” she said. ”Put your hand on his chest, and focus.”

  I closed my eyes, splayed my fingers over Brennan’s chest. At first, I felt nothing. And then, I felt something familiar, something dark, something otherworldly. Blackness, vileness.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked her, opening my eyes, keeping my hand on Brennan’s chest.

  “You feel it then? This is something that should not be,” Eunomia said, watching Brennan with concern.

  “What is it, E?”

  “This is from my realm. Our realm.”

  “Something from the Nether caused this? Oh, god,” I said, staring. “Did I cause this, somehow?”

  “Not you. No. But something from our realm targeted your local shifters.” She watched me. “I felt the same with the others.”

  “It’s not a coincidence,” I muttered.

  “Especially considering that your beloved and closest confidant is a shifter, I’d say no,” Eunomia said.

  I grimaced a little at the “beloved” comment. Was I really so obvious? “Who could have done this?”

  “There are beings. The Nosoi. Gods of sickness and pestilence. They do this type of thing, if the price is right.”

  “They are of the Nether?”

  She nodded.

  “You are going to take me to them,” I said.

  She shook her head. “It is unwise. We will tell your mother, and she will–”

  “E. One of them probably knows who is targeting me. You are going to take me to them.”

  “And what about him?” Eunomia said, pointing at him. “Going to the Nosoi is not going to help him!”

  “Damn it,” I growled. I needed to hit something so badly I was about to burst.

  Eunomia sighed. “I am not supposed to do this.” Then, “have you tried your blood?”

  “What?”

  “Your blood, demon girl. It heals.”

  “My blood heals?”

  “You are a god. Of course your blood heals,” she said. ”So much you do not know about yourself,” she murmured, walking over to Brennan and pulling the gauze off of his sores. “There. Open wounds. Apply your blood to them.”

  I stared at her, and she gestured impatiently for me to do it. I took the small knife out of my pocket, sliced my wrist, and rubbed my blood over his wounds. I watched, and hoped, and within seconds, the sores started to close. I tried not to cry.

  “It worked.”

  “Of course.”

  “He’s still sick, though,” I said.

  “Yes. Your blood won’t heal this thing inside of him. It will heal the surface wounds, which seem to eventually lead to further infection, and then the shifters die from that even if whatever is inside doesn’t kill them first. You can keep him alive longer.”

  “But we need to get rid of this.”

  “Yes. This was
caused by gods. It will take another god to fix it.”

  “Who? Can you bring someone?”

  “I cannot. But you should be able to summon some help.”

  “How?”

  She watched me. “It’s time to start listening to yourself, Fury. Be still. Instinct will take over. Trust yourself, and do what needs to be done.” And with that, she blinked out of sight.

  “Thanks. That was a huge fucking help, E,” I muttered.

  I sat on the bed next to Brennan’s sleeping form, and I took his hand in mine (suddenly finding it impossible to stop touching him) and I closed my eyes. I tried to clear my mind, tried to listen, as Eunomia had said, even though I had no idea what I was listening for.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, a name came to me: Asclepias.

  I thought his name, over and over, a litany that I hoped would save Brennan and the other shifters affected.

  After a while, words came to me, ancient and previously unknown to me. They felt right, and I murmured them:

  Hear me, Asclepias,

  God of healing,

  he who protects the ill

  and blesses the healers.

  Hear me, Asclepias,

  Heed my call,

  Heal my loved ones,

  Right the wrongs,

  Help me turn the tides.

  Hear me, Asclepias…

  I whispered it until my mouth was dry, until I felt like I’d used every bit of energy within me, until my soul was raw, and I had no idea if it did a damn thing.

  I stayed at Brennan’s side. Watched him breathe, more and more raggedly. Watched him sweat, heard him moan in pain. I checked his body for sores, healed them as they appeared. The entire time, I thought Asclepias’ name.

  I settled myself next to him, wrapped my arm around him, watched Brennan as if watching was enough to keep anything else from harming him. He thrashed a bit as he dreamed and the pain and delirium only made it worse.

  “I am not letting you go, Brennan,” I whispered. “I will chase you through the fucking Nether if I have to, and I will drag your ass back here and we will figure out what this is between us. But I am not letting you go.”