Deadly Attraction

by Calista Fox

  Without giving her time to catch her breath, the horse lurched. The flames around the cloak of the wraith and in his eye sockets vanished. Dressed in black he was impossible to see, save for the spindle-fingered, skeletal hand that shot out of a sleeve.

  With a death grip on her upper arm, he hoisted her onto his steed and the horse raced through the woods, his thundering hooves echoing all around them.

  The demonic beast cut a path in the dense forest. Tree limbs and needles lashed out at Jade, slicing her skin and shredding her sweater as she tried to shield her face. Terror seized her soul as the horse wove its way through the thick foliage with such speed that the surroundings became a blur. She closed her eyes and continued to battle the branches swiping brutally over her flesh.

  Finally, they broke free of the woods and she opened her eyes. They’d reached a clearing that lay before the abandoned church that had been built high above a stone monument. The inside had been set ablaze when the first renegade demons attacked the village, shortly after it’d been established.

  Jade’s pulse raged in her ears as she stared up at the remains of the church. Stone steps led to the damaged steeple. Despite them being hidden by drifts, the horse she involuntarily rode reared and then pitched forward, taking the treacherous stairs with her on its back and the wraith floating weightlessly behind her.

  She clutched strands from the horse’s mane to keep from falling. When they reached the landing, she had but a moment to look out at the stretch of snow-covered earth that edged the river in front of it and the forest beyond, at the base of the ridge where Darien’s castle sat. She screamed for him.

  A heartbeat later, the wraith threw her from the horse, tossing her to the ground. With the roof burnt, the thick bank of snow coating the hard floor broke her fall. But her blood stained the pristine white.

  Her face and arms were slashed and she tried to concentrate on healing them, but she had no time. The wraith’s fingers wrapped around her neck and he lifted her off the ground, only to launch her across the span of the church where her backside crashed against the remainder of a decayed, stone wall.

  Her strangled cry of agony pierced the quiet night as she slumped to the floor again. She felt the blood trickle down the nape of her neck from a laceration at the base of her head. And from her shoulder blades to her tailbone, it seemed as though every inch of her had been beaten to a pulp.

  The pain was excruciating, but she tried to stand. The wraith was not done with her. He hauled her up one more time and slammed her onto a backless pew made of granite. On her back, with the wind knocked out of her, she couldn’t suck in a breath, much less scream again. Until the wraith’s razor-sharp fingertips grazed her skin above her left breast, slicing it open.

  A shrill, terror-laden sound erupted from within her. The wraith hovered over her as he seemed to penetrate tissue in search of her heart. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. The agony was so unbearable, she couldn’t detect a single ounce of her that wasn’t burning with pain.

  “Jade!”

  She heard Darien’s voice in the distance. Too far off, she surmised, for him to help her. Yet she whispered his name.

  Her eyelids became too heavy to manage and they closed. A tragic death was not one she’d allowed herself to think of, but somehow, it seemed befitting of the world in which she lived—and the trouble she’d unwittingly invited into her life months ago.

  The wraith’s hand moved from her chest, but she didn’t bother to open her eyes to see what he was up to next. She could barely breathe, let alone fight him off. She wheezed and sputtered, finding it impossible to focus on one particular injury to heal first. They were all too severe, the damage soul deep, it seemed.

  Yet when the fiery sensations suddenly came from outside her body, her eyes snapped open. The wraith had taken his flame-edged form. His scorching heat melted the snow around her, including the thick layer on the pew. The water instantly boiled and she howled as it burned her skin through her sweater. Her body convulsed with violent seizures, causing her to fall off the granite bench.

  “Jade!”

  Over the ringing in her ears, she heard Darien’s voice again and the unsheathing of a sword. She rolled onto her back, finding a hint of relief on her scalded skin as the snow penetrated her sweater.

  “Focus!”

  Staring up at the sky, she realized she had no desire to do as he commanded. A few minutes more and she’d pass out from the sheer agony. She wouldn’t heal enough in her unconscious state to ever wake. There was too much damage and no way to concentrate on the individual wounds.

  That was okay, she decided. Who the hell wanted to a live a life such as this anyway? With even the tiniest bit of emotional or physical pain creating so much trauma, she had to push it into the far depths of her soul on almost a daily basis?

  She was about to close her eyes again, but Darien said, “You’re stronger than this.”

  It sounded as though he was across the church, by the steps. She even heard Thunder snort and whine. The heat cloaking the wraith had vanished, so she assumed the ghost had left her. A moment later, she got her answer as she heard metal blades clashing.

  She had faith in the Demon King’s skill. He would prevail. She closed her eyes. Too many horrific sensations consumed her to focus on one, so she didn’t. Her entire body throbbed, and sharp stabs pricked her everywhere. But it wouldn’t be much longer before she felt nothing at all. A feeling she welcomed.

  Although… A nagging thought kept her from succumbing to unconsciousness. She didn’t know how Michael had fared—whether he was seriously hurt from his run-in with the demon’s horse. And what if, by some chance, Darien didn’t win this battle? His kingdom might fall—and so too would Ryleigh. Other villages. More humans.

  So much was at stake, she couldn’t help but force her lids open once more. She rolled her head to the side and watched through blurry eyes as the fight ensued. She silently prayed Morgan would arrive. And the slayers. But Darien held his own against the fire wraith, meeting him blow for blow, with enough power behind his swings to back the wraith into a corner.

  A hint of relief penetrated the darkness devouring her. The king would be fine. And the slayers had likely already found Michael. If he was hurt, they’d take him to the village doctor. He’d survive. She convinced herself of these things, and they provided a small measure of peace.

  As she was about to drift off, though, she saw a fireball similar to the one she’d witnessed earlier in the woods shoot out from the wraith’s mouth. Just as the case had been with her, the blaze exploded at the tip of Darien’s sword and she could see the bright red heat radiate all the way down the shaft, to the handle.

  Darien kept his grip much longer than she had, and the wraith expelled a second fireball. This time, the blistering heat proved to be too much for even the Demon King. He dropped his sword and let out a low snarl.

  The fire wraith advanced on him with renewed confidence. Panic gripped Jade. She watched hopelessly as Darien lunged for his weapon but couldn’t reach it before the ghastly apparition got close enough to singe him. Darien stumbled backward.

  Pulling strength from somewhere beyond her comprehension, Jade managed to sit up. She focused all of her energy, every single thought, on mentally lifting the sword.

  She didn’t use her psychokinesis often, but her father had taught her to hone the skill. Jade had to push past her pain to concentrate on raising the heavy object. No easy feat as agony ripped through her over putting one more strain on her body. But this was a mental effort, not a physical one. She still had control over her mind, despite the fact her limbs vibrated of their own accord.

  With her gaze on the sword, she lifted it a mere six inches from the snow and moved it toward Darien. He seemed to keep one eye on the demon and one on his weapon.

  When it was nearly in his reach, he yelled, “Let it go.”

  This distracted the wraith. At the same time, Darien lurched forward, clasped the
hilt and rolled onto his back. The move was lightning-fast. It hardly registered in Jade’s mind. But Darien took a full swing at the wraith in the process and the ghost’s eerie screech stung her ears as half of his skeletal forearm and hand flew into the air, severed by Darien’s sword.

  The wraith blew over Darien to his restless steed and they leaped from the top of the steps to the ground below.

  Or perhaps she’d imagined that. Jade’s vision was as fuzzy as her brain.

  No matter. Darien got to his feet and the threat against him was over. She let out a short breath, the most she could muster.

  Now she could surrender to the pain…

  Chapter Ten

  Darien wanted to pursue the fire wraith. But he couldn’t leave Jade. He stalked across the church and knelt before her, trying to process all of her visible injuries and wondering how many more there were that he couldn’t see.

  Her shoulder was propped against the ledge, her head resting atop the exposed mortar. Her eyes rolled in the sockets.

  She was covered in blood and tattered clothing. The cuts on her face were deep, but her gaping chest wound alarmed him the most. He slipped out of his full-length jacket and gently draped it over her. Then he cradled the base of her skull with his hand to guide her toward him, only to pull away when a sticky fluid coated his fingers. She bled there too.

  “Jade,” he said before swallowing down a lump of fear and emotion. “You’ve got a nasty cut on the back of your head. And one above your left breast. Which do you heal first?”

  She shook her head, though it was a slight movement. “Neither.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “You have to focus on the worst one, you told me that.”

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice weak and raspy. “I don’t want to.”

  Panic besieged him. “You must.” He tried to lock his gaze with hers, but she was obviously having difficulty seeing him. “Jade.” His plea was full of consternation. “You can’t give up.”

  “I’m tired,” she whispered. “Tired of always fighting this ugliness.” She licked what appeared to be dry lips and then added, “It’s okay. I had some happy times.”

  Tears slid down her bloodied cheeks. Darien’s gut twisted and his heart constricted. She was a mess. Barely breathing. Clearly in a huge amount of pain. And there was nothing he could do for her? He was the king, for fuck’s sake. And he couldn’t do anything to save her?

  He stared at her a moment more, then a thought clicked in his brain.

  “The necklace. Jade, where is it?”

  A far-off look flitted in her eyes. “I had it on earlier.”

  “It’s not around your neck now.” He needed it in order to make her immortal. If he invoked the gift this very moment, she might survive all the physical damage.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice growing weaker. “I must’ve lost it in the woods.”

  His eyes squeezed shut. Damn it! There was no time to search for it. He needed to get her to the cottage where it was warm and dry. Then convince her to heal herself. But he wanted her to start with her head, so she could think more clearly.

  “Just stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t give up.”

  “It’s too much.”

  “You’re still alive. Still conscious. You need to concentrate. Think about the cut right here.” He gently brushed his finger along the edge of the wound. She winced. “It stings, doesn’t it? You can feel exactly where it hurts, right?”

  “Yes. Now I can.”

  He lightly touched the laceration again and this seemed to help her to register the precise spot.

  “Keep at it,” he said in an encouraging voice.

  “The throbbing,” she told him, “it’s as though he’s pounding my head against the wall.”

  “He’s gone. It’s just you and me now. Focus.”

  Her eyes finally locked with his for a spell. “Why are you doing this? He threatens your kingdom. You should be hunting him, not trying to save me.”

  “You mean as much to me as my kingdom does.”

  Her gaze slid away, her eyelids dipping. “I’m so sorry I lost your necklace. Please look for it. By my house.”

  “Open your eyes,” he demanded. “Don’t stop looking at me. We’ll find the necklace. That’s the last thing I want you to think about. Keep healing.”

  Several tense minutes passed and then he felt the ends of her hair dry and thicken. After wiping his hand on his leg to clean it, he tested the wound again, but it was gone. So too was the blood at that particular spot.

  Relief washed over him. “You did it.”

  But her breathing was still labored, and the very slow rise and fall of her chest told him her heart rate and pulse had dropped drastically. Her lips had turned purple. She was likely freezing in the snow, yet he couldn’t move her until something was done about her chest.

  He wanted to yank off his sweater and press the material to her in order to stop the flow of blood, but he’d wipe too much of it away in doing so. And he’d aggravate an already horrific-looking injury.

  Instead, he lifted her hand to his own chest, slipping it inside his shirt. He flattened her cold palm against his skin, over his heart.

  “Feel the beats,” he said. “They’re strong and steady. Try to match them with your own heart.”

  She appeared exhausted and defeated. As though she honestly didn’t want to continue on. As if she’d merely humored him by healing the head wound.

  “Jade,” he said in an insistent voice, his dread resonating strongly. “I want you alive and safe. I want you healthy. Happy. I’ll do whatever I must to make it happen, but you have to help me. You have to repair your heart. Please. For me. For you. For both of us. For…Michael and Lisette. Everyone in the village. Hell, even Sheena will stop speaking to me if anything happens to you.”

  He heard the desperation and the agony in his tone. Neither was manufactured nor exaggerated to persuade her to give in to his begging. They were real, raw emotions that could bring him to his knees, were he not already on them.

  “Jade,” he whispered. “I love you. And I know I don’t deserve you, but…I don’t want to lose you.”

  Another short breath fell from her lips. “You don’t play fair. Telling me you love me…”

  “I wouldn’t lie about it, you know that. I’ve been very forthcoming with my feelings for you. Right now, you’re devastating me.”

  Her gaze locked with his once more. “I actually can feel your heartbeats. They’re erratic.”

  “That’s because I’m completely freaked out.”

  She laughed softly, surprising him. Fat snowflakes began to fall on them and they shared a few tranquil moments as they stared at each other.

  He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her give in to the pain.

  “Darien.”

  He heard Morgan behind him, along with Thunder, who nudged his arm.

  Without taking his gaze from Jade, he said to his general, “Get the village doctor and take him to the cottage. She’s going to need help.”

  “He can’t help me,” she muttered.

  “We’ll see.” To Morgan, he said, “Go.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  Darien carefully lifted Jade into his arms and she squealed in pain, shattering whatever serenity their delicate moment had brought her.

  “Sorry,” he said as fury tore through him again over her agonized state. Thunder seemed as deeply affected by her suffering. He knelt so Darien could easily mount him with Jade nestled against his body. “Careful.”

  The horse slowly rose, with some effort, given the weight he bore. Then he gingerly crossed the church and descended the steps with caution, though the movements still jarred Jade, as evidenced by her gasps and groans.

  They rode through the snow and Jade shivered against him as a light, albeit frigid, breeze whistled through the trees. By the time they reached her house, whatever healing she’d accomplished seemed to be negated by the pain she’d experienced from the jostli
ng while in transit. Her eyes were closed again and her breathing was shallow and laced with a sharp intake of air.

  His general pulled open the door, Morgan and Dr. Schaeffer having already arrived at the cottage.

  Darien said, “Get some towels. Lay them over the bed.”

  The old physician yanked back the comforter and sheet, then Morgan spread out the towels. Darien set her on the mattress and the doctor whisked off her boots as Darien tossed aside the jacket covering her and then unbuttoned her sweater.

  Schaeffer groaned. “Good heavens.” His gaze fell on the gaping cut on her chest, but then lifted to Jade’s face. “We need more towels to clean her up.”

  “No,” Darien said. “She needs the blood on her skin. I’ll explain later.” To Morgan, he said, “Help me get her sweater off.”

  He lifted her hair as Darien eased the material over her shoulders and down her arms. He tossed the garment aside.

  “Darien, look at this.”

  The grave expression on the general’s face made his stomach clench. Glancing over Jade’s shoulder, Darien fought back more rage. The doctor took a peek as well.

  “My God,” Schaeffer said. “Those are second-degree burns, with some bruising around the edges of the red patches and blisters. And it looks as though she has a fractured rib on the right side.”

  Darien’s heart sank. The damage was so much worse than he’d imagined. No wonder she’d wanted to give up and let her injuries consume her.

  “She needs morphine,” he insisted.

  The doctor went for his medical bag and rooted around until he had the needle and vial in hand.

  The physician said, “Her skin’s already damp and chilled from her soaked sweater. That should help to cool her back. But I can’t apply a towel at this point, because it could stick to the burns and peel away skin when it’s removed—and the more she loses, the more susceptible she’ll be to infection. Unfortunately, I do need her on her back in order to close her chest wound, and so she can rest.”

  “What about something softer?” Darien indicated the pillowcase and Morgan quickly whipped one off the many pillows on the bed while Darien carefully unhooked her bra.