by Jane Cousins
Fuck, Locke slid to the floor all his strength suddenly gone. Not only had he shredded his suit, lost a favourite tie to vampire gnaw marks and ruined a pair of leather John Lobb shoes thanks to bone shard scrapes and vampire vitreous fluids, now he’d swallowed actual bits of vampire. Groaning he lay back closing his eyes. Someone was going to pay, and he wasn’t talking about the bill he intended to send his brother-in-law Vaughn.
Chapter Thirteen
Serena hovered over Locke’s still form whilst his cousin Declan stood nearby looking decidedly shaky but determined, facing the courtyard, sword drawn, ready to face the other sucker out there if it chose to attack. Though that seemed unlikely given what had happened to its accomplice when it crossed the threshold of Locke’s home.
Serena stared down at Locke in horror, he was a mess. His waistcoat and shirt drenched with blood. Desperately she pressed down on the wadded up tea towels she’d grabbed to help stem the flow. “Are you sure help is coming?” She asked the all too easy on the eyes man standing a few feet away.
Even splattered with blood and wearing only a torn grey t-shirt, jeans and boots the man Locke called cousin was so good looking it made it difficult to take him seriously. For Earth sake how did he get the moonlight to play along his alabaster skin like that? And where was that breeze coming from that teased the tips of his shoulder length blonde hair?
Despite her concern for Locke her fingers actually itched to reach out and play with those wheat coloured locks. Shaking her head, she looked away from his hypnotic dark violet eyes. Right at this moment she’d never wanted to slug a man more. Declan just stood there, rumpled but ultimately gorgeous, flashing her the occasional reassuring dimpled smile that only made her want to hurt him more. Yet the more she frowned his way, the more Declan appeared to relax, real amusement in his eyes. The whole family was insane.
Nell burst into the room at a dead run, impressive considering the height of her cranberry coloured stiletto Mary-Janes. Her face pale but that blue gaze of hers steady as she assessed the situation with cool clinical detachment. Her first stop was Locke, kneeling beside Serena she pushed away the towels, torn shirt and waistcoat for a better look at the pulpy mess of Locke’s midsection. Flipping open her medical kit she handed Serena a thin linen cloth the size of large napkin. “Cover his wounds with this and hold it in place.”
Serena took the cloth, hardly thicker than tissue paper with disbelief. If it hadn’t been for the tang of herbs that suddenly assailed her nostrils she would have lodged a protest. This thing was seriously imbued with healing properties. Wasting no time she placed the cloth as gently as possible over Locke’s wounds, though where they started and ended it was hard to tell with all that blood.
“Hey!” Serena protested as Nell moved over to Declan’s side.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Locke will be fine, let the cloth do its job… trust me.” Turning her back on a disbelieving Serena, Nell gave Declan a cool blue stare until he voluntarily sank to the ground, reaching over she cupped his face. “Hey pretty boy, how are you doing?”
“The usual.” Declan shot her a cocky grin, his sword still gripped ready in one hand. “Just a few manly cuts and bruises.”
“Nell! I really think Locke needs you more right now.” Serena frowned down at the linen cloth, how was it remaining so blindingly white and not soaking up all that blood?
“Serena, I know Locke has very serious injuries but if I was looking after him right this minute I’d be doing nothing more than what you’re doing, keeping that cloth in place and letting the magic do all the work. Just let me know when it’s done.”
Done? Done? How was she supposed to know when a cloth was done? Done what? Though even as she contemplated that question she could see the edges of the cloth were now a dull cream colour and slightly burnt looking.
“Besides,” Nell went on, her calm voice helping take the edge off the panic attack that threatened to overwhelm Serena. “Declan might not be hurt as badly but if there are scars … the whining will last a lifetime.”
“I don’t whine.” Declan protested, holding his ripped t-shirt up out of the way so that Nell could get a better look at his injuries. It spoke volumes about Nell’s professional detachment that she could ignore the way his rock hard six pack abs gleamed oh so touchable in the dimly lit room and concentrate on his injuries.
“I didn’t mean your whining Sweetie. I was talking about all those lovelorn women who follow you around so tiresomely.”
“Thanks Nell.” Declan gave her a stoic smile through the pain as she went to work smearing a dob of foul smelling paste on each of his puncture wounds, effectively sealing them shut.
About the time the healing cloth on Locke was completely crusty and dried looking Nell had finished with Declan. Leaning over the doctor placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “That’s my brave soldier.” She patted his tight muscular arm before moving back to kneel by Locke’s side.
“What is that thing?” Serena asked as Nell peeled off the yellowed and brittle cloth, noting the small scraps of material and dirt that now clung to it.
“I call it the wonder cloth, as yet it doesn’t have a proper name. A piece of linen soaked for a hundred days in over fifty herbs and plant extracts, my own recipe. It draws out foreign matter and dirt, accelerates red blood creation, promotes healing and is a pain killer and numbing agent all rolled into one.” Nell scrabbled through her bag, found a torch and handed it to Serena. “Here, hold this so I can see what’s left to deal with.”
Serena watched Nell work, her heart in her throat. There was so much damage but Nell worked with steely admirable speed, assessing and dealing with each and every puncture wound and jagged tear. Sometimes gluing skin together with a foul smelling paste, other times packing the wound with a scoop full of a green slime like substance.
“Is he… is he going to be okay?”
“Some of these puncture wounds are deeper than I’d like, but he comes from a long line of warriors, they have very good healing genes.”
“Shouldn’t he be conscious?” Serena eyed Locke’s prone form with worry, the torch in her hand trembling slightly.
“That’s partly due to the wonder cloth, knocks the patient out to promote a better healing environment for the body.” Nell sent Serena a quick reassuring smile before returning her attention back to Locke’s extensive injuries. “You have quite a few cuts and punctures of your own. How are you holding up?”
Serena glanced down with surprise at the wounds and scratches on her upper arms that were seeping blood and the sudden awareness of the throbbing in her ripped up right ankle. She’d all but forgotten she’d had a run in with the first sucker. Shaking her head slightly she shrugged away the pain, in comparison to what Locke was going through her injuries were nothing. “I’m fine. Is there anything else I should be doing… to help?”
“Hmmm?” Nell’s focus was completely caught and held by five deep ragged tears close to Locke’s sternum. “There are some scissors in my bag. Cut away his clothes would you? I need more access.”
Serena had just finished cutting away Locke’s waistcoat and was starting on his shirt when the linen closet door banged open and the sound of heavy boot tread heralded the arrival of Vaughn, Drum and Hadleigh, with Rafe, Dash and Flynn bringing up the rear.
“Wow. Nice place.” Flynn commented with approval.
“Is that a courtyard? Cool.” Dash added in his two cents worth.
“There’ll be a tour later, for now shut up. Declan…” Vaughn stared down at the apprentice enforcer. “Report.”
Sheathing his sword at the sight of Maat’s warriors Declan relaxed back onto his elbows. “Two vampires. One dusted… the other, minus an arm, thanks to yours truly, last seen hip deep trapped in mud.”
“Nell? You need help?” Vaughn moved slightly to get a better look at Locke’s status.
“Just stay out of my way.” Nell’s focus never left her patient.
“Sera?” Vaug
hn barked her name.
“I’m good. Just get the vampire.”
“Okay, Rafe take the courtyard, flyboys take to the skies.”
While Flynn, Dash and Rafe raced off to follow Vaughn’s instructions Drum moved closer to Declan, scrutinising him with intense interest.
“Problem?” Declan enquired with a relaxed half-smile, seemingly unperturbed to have the seven foot mountain of a man looming over him, studying him intently with an assessing look reminiscent of a master torturer looking for a sweet spot on his latest victim.
Anger seeped into Drum’s black eyes as they locked onto Declan’s forehead and the faint lipstick impression that remained there, jaw clenched, his expression intimidatingly thunderous. “She kissed you! Nell, you kissed him!”
Declan’s half-smile converted into a full blown devastatingly handsome grin. “And she called me Sweetie.” He crowed.
“You little...”
Drum’s words were cut off by Hadleigh, who inserted herself between them neatly. Kneeling by her apprentice she shook her head. “Honestly sometimes I think you have a death wish.”
Drum strained against the hand that suddenly clamped down on his shoulder. Turning he met his Captain’s eyes.
“Priorities Drum.” Vaughn gave his second an intent gold look.
Drum forced himself to relax, knowing his Captain was right. Looking back over his shoulder he intended to send the supermodel masquerading as an apprentice enforcer a glare full of promised pain and future retribution, instead his eyes widened in surprise at the sight that greeted him. “Shit… Vaughn, don’t do anything stupid.” Quickly he reversed his position so now he was the one restraining his Captain.
“What the..?” Vaughn watched in stunned surprise as his wife yanked off Declan’s bloodied and torn t-shirt, running her hands over his bare flesh that somehow seemed to glisten in the dim light. Maat, even the streaks of blood looked like brush strokes applied by a master painter on his chiselled chest and washboard abs. “Hadleigh.” Vaughn’s voice was strained with jealousy and barely suppressed anger.
“I’m just double checking his injuries.”
Declan withstood the fussing like a stoic toddler under the care of an overprotective mother. “I’m fine Hadleigh. Nell’s already checked me out.”
“Hadleigh. Get. Your. Hands. Off. Him!” Vaughn ground out each and every word.
“Stop acting like a ‘Dick-tator’…. he’s my cousin. Not to mention my apprentice and under my care.” Hadleigh sent Vaughn a glare to match his, before turning soft concerned eyes back to Declan. “You sure you’re okay Sweetheart?”
“Now that you mention it, I do feel kind of woozy.” Declan gave her his best brave smile.
“Here.” Hadleigh settled on the floor next to him, pulling his head down to rest on her ample breasts.” “Just rest. Vaughn go check in with the team. Drum stop hovering over Nell, you can fetch a stretcher for Locke.”
Vaughn reluctantly left the room, his last sight was of Declan snuggling his head in even closer on the pillowy warmth of his meld mate’s breasts, his violet eyes full of amusement and smug satisfaction, little shit, next time he’d unleash Drum on his perfect ass.
Hadleigh watched Vaughn disappear outside and Drum stomp off back to the linen closet. When they were both gone from sight she reached up cuffing Declan on the back of the head.
“Ow.” Declan sat up straight rubbing his head. “What was that for? Neither of them has any reason to be jealous of me… I’m your cousin for Goddess sake, they need to get over themselves.”
Hadleigh threw his t-shirt back in his face. “I don’t care about that. The cuff was for getting injured. Where’s your second sword? The vamp would never have inflicted this much damage if you’d had it with you.”
“Not all of us can call weapons out of thin air Hadleigh.”
“And that’s why you should always be armed for bear Dec. One of these days your luck is going to run out.” Scooting across the floorboards Hadleigh for the first time took a good long look at the amount of damage her brother had sustained. Glancing up she met Serena’s accusing blue-purple stare.
For Serena the last five minutes felt surreal. Maat’s warriors had stormed in to take charge, swapping silly banter and inane chit chat. Hardly a one of them expressing concern over Locke’s bloodied and hurt body… not even his own sister.
“Problem witch?”
“I just thought your brother’s well-being deserved to be a little higher on your list of priorities.”
“No one’s better at healing than Nell. What would my hovering over him and wringing my hands achieve exactly? Here.” Hadleigh snatched the scissors from Serena’s noticeably trembling hands. “Dec… grab a blanket from somewhere she’s going into shock.”
“I’m fine…” Serena protested even as her teeth began to chatter. “Locke is the one who needs help. The poor man risked his life out there tonight.” Oh Earth, her eyes began to fill with tears. The look of horror that suddenly filled Hadleigh’s eyes caused her to choke out a laugh and then hiccup, what was it about tears that scared big bad warriors more than facing death?
It was Declan who draped her in a soft quilt, wrapping his strong arms around her, providing comfort and support. Of course it was that exact moment that Locke’s eyelids fluttered open.
He blearily noted Nell hunched over his gut, then looked to the side noting Hadleigh crouched there, scissors in her hand. “Goddess…. tell me… you didn’t?”
Hadleigh rolled her eyes, she knew her brother too well. “Shut up and rest, you have over a hundred other suits.”
Turning his head in the other direction Locke took in the sight of Serena sitting there, Declan wrapped around her. Typical, he was the one who got his guts introduced to the outside world whilst saving the day by dusting a sucker but Declan was the one to get the girl. Could his day get any worse?
Of course it could, as the room around him came into focus. Goddess look at all those streaks of mud and blood stains marring his formerly pristine light wood floors. And what was that on his cream sofa? It looked like the outline of a vampire imprinted in the fabric in black dust. Shit, he’d have to burn the sofa and rip up the floorboards or he’d never sleep well again. And all these people tracking muck and mud and Goddess knows what through his house. The pain of that knowledge was worse than the distant drug hazed ache of his injuries. Though surprisingly not as painful as the fact that Serena had met and fallen for Declan’s charm and handsome face.
Damn, he should have beat on that kid more when they were younger. They were grown-ups it wasn’t like he could take his cousin on now, given Declan carried an enforcer sword full time. Not that a sword would prove all that effective against the tax audit he was going to dob his cousin in for. That would teach him to steal Locke Valhalla’s woman. Oh Goddess, he’d gone and done it, he’d fallen for the most elusive, frustrating, sexy woman that ever danced over the Goddess’s green earth naked… whoops, his head began to spin as the painkillers once more took hold… he meant skyclad.
Chapter Fourteen
“What are you doing here?” Locke eyed the african violet with a mixture of horror and gut deep relief. Horror that his bedroom had been invaded by a pot full of dirt and relief that if the plant was still here then Serena hadn’t run off to join Declan’s harem of adoring followers.
He performed a quick check of his bedroom, other than the copious amount of pillows he was laying on keeping him in a permanent upright lounging position nothing else seemed to be out of place. Whew, deep breath… ouch, shallow breaths from here on in.
Looking down he tried to get a sense of how injured he was. Hard to tell when a thick white bandage encased your body from hips to heart. Places deep inside his gut itched and burned, damn, a couple of those punctures were bone grazing deep by the uncomfortable feel of it. He performed a quick visual inspection, noting a couple of long scratches on his arms and scabbed over puncture wounds around his wrists, all disappearing fast
thanks to Nell’s healing. Someone had dressed him in pyjama bottoms, knowing it was silly he still pulled back the waistband for a quick check that all vital things were present and accounted for. That settled, he allowed himself to relax back onto the pillows.
From the amount of sunshine radiating in through the glass wall overlooking the courtyard he would guess that he’d slept the night away, probably thanks to one of Nell’s magic healing potions. It would have been nice to stay lounging in bed but his bladder and the nasty taste in the back of his mouth needed to be dealt with immediately.
Thank the Goddess the pyjama bottoms were silk, it made the act of sliding to the edge of the bed that little bit easier. Though standing up involved a lot of swearing and caused actual perspiration to dot his brow. And to be perfectly truthful - wasn’t he always - standing was probably exaggerating, what he managed to achieve was more reminiscent of bells, churches and mobs with pitchforks. Though, thanks to his gut injuries he was just hunched over rather than hunchbacked.
Wincing with every shuffled step he made it into the bathroom. Leaning heavily on the basin for support he brushed his teeth, washed his face and then contemplated the joys of using the toilet. Ouch, things inside him still healing didn’t appreciate the experience but at least his bladder was no longer trying to internally drown him. By the time he’d finished in the bathroom he was beginning to pant from the strain, even if his internal muscles had loosened a little bit enabling him to stand now with only the slightest of hunches. Goddess he loved Nell and her healing ways.
Exiting the bathroom he gave the bed a longing look but forced himself to keep moving past the promised comfort with a grim determination, displaying the kind of grit and strength he thought similar to those men who dragged themselves miles for help on two broken legs in order to save their loved ones.
Switching on the overhead lights in his large custom built walk in wardrobe he took a deep relieved breath. Coiled tension in his neck and shoulders easing as the smells of cedar, leather and wool teased his nostrils. The sight of his suits… his babies… his friends… lined up so perfectly on padded wooden hangers bought a relieved smile to his face. Before the reality of two empty hangers and a glaring bare space in the floor to ceiling shoe rack caught his notice.