by Joey W. Hill
She met Ukrit’s eyes, but she did not find Ukrit there. She swallowed. “John Pierce.”
“Trust me. Trust me now and always.”
Her trembling hand was out, the ribbons draped over her wrist. He clasped her palm, holding the slips of satin between them. She jumped at a howl that exploded around her, the wolves descending. Darkness swelled into a cavern and swallowed them, but John pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. His muscles bunched into steel to stave off the darkness and howling. It was as if she were in the center of a storm created by a battle between two elements.
She did not realize how true that was.
She was with him. Even though she appeared unconscious still, JP could feel that connection and held onto it as tightly as he was holding onto her. He had about a second to assess the situation, which was a second more than he’d had in other firefights, so he considered it a blessing.
They were back in the warehouse, in the middle of a maelstrom of magical energy. Maddock and Tyrone looked like they were in a tug of war. Tyrone had his arms raised, his feet braced apart as if he was holding himself against a strong wind at the same time he was about to fly. Maddock was a contrast, his arms at his sides, his body rigid as if he were channeling all energy toward his objective, which John deduced was holding Tyrone’s magic away from where John held Medusa. All the energy surrounding Tyrone was green. What was around Maddock was blue, and spikes of either color were trying to penetrate the wall of the other, making the battle lines unpredictable.
One deep breath, a flutter of her hair, and she’d be touched by Tyrone’s shit-green magic again.
Fuck with that. Pulling all the leads and the IV free, JP scooped her up and charged away from the table, toward Maddock. The blue energy swallowed them like the welcome touch of the ocean.
“Keep going,” Maddock snarled. “Get her out of here.”
John hoped their reinforcements had handled any threats, because he exited the lab and pounded up the corridor outside the lab with both hands occupied, the assault rifle bouncing in a bruising rhythm against his back.
Good fortune—and good allies—were with him. He saw no one on his way out the door, and a whistle when he emerged drew him toward the alley rendezvous point.
Marcellus had collected a pile of bodies in that narrow opening between warehouses. He appeared to be keeping watch over them in case any roused from their sudden and decisive state of unconsciousness and various states of injury. Merc was nowhere to be seen, but John guessed he was running point to keep an eye out for anyone they’d missed.
Yvette was squatting against the wall near Marcellus, her gray and gold eyes trained on the alley entranceway like she was a leopard about to strike. She was tapping the flat of a dagger against her thigh, and it looked sharp enough to puncture someone’s kidney with minimal effort. When JP appeared, she sheathed it and straightened, her attention fixating on the precious bundle in his arms.
“Alive,” John said shortly. “But in bad shape. Can you take her back inside the protection of the portal?” he asked Marcellus. “You can get her there faster than anyone. I need to provide backup for Maddock.”
“I’ll join you,” Yvette said. “Merc can help us. He’s right.” She directed that to Marcellus. “Taking her away removes their main reason to stick around.”
“Merc can take her just as quickly,” Marcellus pointed out.
“No.” Yvette shook her head before John could voice his own protest. “You are everything I want with me in a fight, but her safety is most important. Even in this circumstance, we cannot trust Merc alone with what he can too easily see as prey. The temptation could be more than he can resist.”
Marcellus bit back an irritated response, but Yvette cinched it with one more observation. “Do you want Merc in the camp with Clara, Charlie and the others, and neither you nor I there, the only two who can stand against him? Though I’ve no doubt Cai, Rand and Gundar would die trying.”
His jaw set and he reached for Medusa.
“No.” Medusa mumbled it, coiling her arms tighter around John. “Don’t leave.”
Her voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, even thick with drugs that he hoped were keeping her from feeling pain.
“I have to help Maddock, sweetheart,” he told her. “I’ll be right behind you. Marcellus will get you back home.”
“Home is with you.”
He couldn’t have asked for more than that. Even Marcellus’s stern mouth eased at the simple declaration.
“I want you out of harm’s way,” John said to her gruffly. “I need you to obey me, snake-girl.”
While he sensed a brief hesitation, other priorities apparently overrode her submissive tendencies. She merely tried to hold onto him more tightly. He was loathe to peel her off forcibly, especially since he didn’t know her condition, beyond the horror of her eyes, but a breath later, the decision was made for him.
Marcellus’s expression changed in a blink. Yvette bellowed “Run,” and then made that command unnecessary. Seizing John by the collar, she tossed him and Medusa bodily toward the open back end of the alleyway. John bit back a curse, tucking and rolling as best he could while holding a nearly unconscious woman.
He was hit from behind by a solid wall of muscle, and then the percussion of the explosion lifted and flung them again. He had a sudden and very unpleasant flashback to an op where he’d ended up in a building when it exploded. He curled himself tighter around Medusa as a blast of heat hit and rolled over them.
He was pretty sure they were about to die. At least in this case he had the woman he loved in his arms. If there was no avoiding death, there was no better way to go than that. But he was pissed that she wasn’t going to get the chance to experience better things in this life.
Fortunately, they didn’t die. When the danger seemed to have passed and he could raise his head, he figured out why he was still alive. Marcellus was lifting his considerable weight off John and Medusa. As he did, he was shaking out his wings, dislodging several feathers that were on fire. Once detached, they settled to the asphalt and burned down to cinders. Leaning down, the angel helped Yvette up, where she was braced between the Dumpster and the wall of the adjacent warehouse. John noticed the Dumpster had her handprint in it, where she’d kept it from rolling over top of all of them.
Her clothes were torn and she was bleeding, but not enough to incapacitate her. Wounds wouldn’t kill a vampire, though they could weaken her. While John knew she could get blood from Charlie or Gundar to help with that, and the wounds were even now closing before his eyes, the vampire and angel had worked together to save his and Medusa’s lives. A debt he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. And he’d thank them, as soon as he could hear his voice over the ringing in his own ears.
For now, he assessed what had happened. The warehouse that had held Medusa was a pile of fiery rubble. A hard feeling of loss seized his chest, but it quickly loosened as a smoke-stained and bleeding Maddock trudged toward them. Behind him, the fire was dying out as if it was being quenched by invisible hoses. Since Maddock was leaving a visible energy trail of that blue light, it wasn’t an inaccurate description.
‘’Did I not suggest we should avoid excess attention?” Yvette said in a deceptively sweet voice while she inflicted murder on him with her gaze.
“Shit happens, babe,” Maddock said wearily. When he stumbled a few feet before reaching them, she was there to catch him, sliding his arm over her shoulders to support his weight.
“You are no fun to torment when you aren’t at your best,” she said irritably. “I’ll tear you a new one when you’re back on your feet.”
“Just need a nap. And one of Charlie’s massages. Maybe some of Mary’s cornbread. Christ.” Maddock looked at John. “You two okay?”
“Me, yeah. Her, not sure. Her eyes…”
“They should be all right. They’ll regenerate. That’s why Tyrone did it. To take them out of commission temporarily until he cou
ld accomplish what he wanted to accomplish. Taking the part of her brain that controlled them. He failed.”
The wizard flashed a dangerous if tired smile. “That was thanks to your will and hers. Let’s get the hell out of here. And no,” he added to Yvette. “Tyrone probably isn’t dead. He’s too wily not to have left himself an exit strategy. But he’s out of our hair for now.”
His gaze went back to Medusa, slipping in and out of consciousness in John’s arms, though her own remained banded around him. “If I’m right, and it looks like I am, she won’t be of interest to him any longer.”
John looked down at her. So distracted by the atrocity that had been committed to her eyes, he’d completely missed what had Marcellus and Yvette’s attention now. As Merc landed next to them, he noticed it right away.
“Hey, where are her snakes? And her wings?”
Her snakes. Her beloved snakes. Oh Christ. Not a sign of them. Only thick, blood-matted hair. Though he hadn’t had the bond with them that she had, he’d been fast becoming attached to them, and he was forever, fiercely grateful for their loyalty and care for her. They deserved better than to be atomized, as if their existence didn’t matter.
“Let’s get her back through the portal. We’ll worry about all that then.” Maddock looked toward Marcellus. “I think it’s best Medusa stay with John. Her mind is in a fragile state and his connection was what pulled her back. Go on ahead and tell Charlie what to expect. The rest of us are basically pain management and recharging. And one through and through.”
Yvette stiffened and stopped him, putting her hand on his abdomen. “Where?”
“Not me. Him.” He nodded to Merc. “Tyrone got one shard of energy through my shield. Would have taken out a couple major organs, but Merc stepped in between. Went through his thigh.”
Merc glanced down at the wound. “I plugged it with a bit of cloth. It’s fine until we get there. Painful, but pain means little to my kind.” He flashed fangs. “Or quite a bit, depending on the pleasure involved. Very little can kill me.”
“One of life’s little annoyances, since so many people want to do so,” Yvette said dryly.
Despite Merc’s offhand comment, John could tell Maddock had some concerns about the long term effects of not treating a wound created by the magic, and he saw signs of Merc’s discomfort, in the slight stiffness of his body and a flexing muscle in his jaw. Marcellus saw it as well.
“Ride with them,” he instructed the incubus. “It is best not to exert yourself with flight. Do not defy me on this.”
For once the incubus didn’t mouth off, which was worrisome in itself. Marcellus went aloft, disappearing from view in less than a blink. As John carried Medusa, Merc and Yvette supported Maddock on either side. They used whatever cover they could to head back to the SUV unseen. Maddock mumbled something about providing a light shielding that would hide them from casual eyes, so John was relieved when they were in the vehicle with its darkened windows and the wizard didn’t have to expend any other energy. From Yvette’s tight expression, he expected she would agree with him.
Law enforcement and fire trucks arrived on scene as they were driving out of the industrial district. The unpopulated area and Maddock quenching the fire before it could start cresting rooftops had provided them the extra minutes to get clear. With Merc at the wheel, they took side streets and passed unnoticed by the incoming army of red and blue lights.
Maddock put his head back on the seat. “I’m going to pass out now,” he mumbled to Yvette. “Wake me when we get there. Don’t dump me out on the side of the road as a joke. It wasn’t funny last time.”
“It was, a little.” She stroked his hair back from his face. “You are fine, wizard. You did well.”
“Not well enough. Can’t ever seem to convince them they’re doing it the wrong way. If I could do that, then I’d be something special. Someone who deserves someone like Charlie.”
Yvette and JP exchanged a glance as the wizard let go of consciousness, his breath evening out. Then JP left him to Yvette’s care as Medusa shifted in his arms, a whimper escaping her lips.
She was in pain, and all he wanted was to take that pain away. Since she kept moving her head as if the lights were hurting her eyes, Yvette opened a sterile bandage from the first aid kit to wrap around them. Maddock hadn’t said how long the regeneration process would take, damn it. Soulless fuckers had burned out her eyes. Teardrops like blood seeped from beneath the bandage. John used another cloth Yvette handed him to keep that wiped away.
“How are you doing?” he asked quietly, when he could tell she was conscious again. They had the whole back seat, her stretched out upon it, her upper body cradled in his arms. Yvette and Maddock were in the second seat.
“Okay.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he could find no fault with her grip. She’d switched it at some point to his shirt. Even without her claws, she hung on like a baby eagle.
Her “okay” was a lie, but the branding and subsequent shock had to have some kind of cauterizing or numbing effect; otherwise she would have been screaming in agony.
“Ratqueen, it’s okay,” she said softly. “We’re all right.”
He met Yvette’s gaze as the vampire looked over her shoulder at him. The concern in her face was reflected on his own. He felt Medusa’s brow and it was hot. Too hot. Maybe a fever delirium. Damn it.
At least he’d be able to tell her the snakes hadn’t been taken from her by force. He’d seen them when she’d been strapped to the table. The snakes had been unconscious but alive, in limp loops, figure eights and S-shapes around her on the table.
“You’re going to be all right, too,” he said to her, gathering her even closer, dipping his head over hers. “I promise.”
They’d come to grips with it earlier in the night, in that confrontation in the Big Top. But now, fuck it all, he didn’t care about choice anymore, hers or his. He loved her and could no more face letting her go than ripping his own heart from his chest. She was just going to have to deal with that, and him, for the rest of their lives.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
For the next week, Medusa was in and out of consciousness. She walked on her island, she ran with the temple priestesses through the gardens, she made love to John Pierce in a field where a unicorn played. In hindsight, she would decide that Charlie had some very good herbal pain remedies. Not a single shadow followed her into her dreams. The down side was, during the times she surfaced, she couldn’t form a single word to ask a question about those traumas. Every time she tried, a sense of wellbeing would steal over her, dreams would beckon, and she’d be off sleeping again.
When she was awake, she usually sensed John near, another vital healing element. On the rare times he wasn’t, someone would be there to reassure her of his presence as soon as they realized she was awake. “He’s helping Gundar.” “He’s getting you dinner.” Usually it was Charlie or Clara who told her that, for they took turns nursing her.
Because of the peculiar floating sensation of days and nights, she suspected they were back in the Circus’s preferred in-between portal place, where she’d first seen Lianthe running across the fields. It was a beautiful spot, a protected spot. Had they finished the remaining two days of performances in the quaint small town with a Starbuck’s, or had Yvette had to fold, end it early? She hoped not.
Then she remembered the crisp voice, the smell of her own burning flesh, and came surging up out of the dream, panting.
“Easy. It’s okay. Take it easy.” She clung to John’s soothing rumble. “Charlie said when she started cutting back on her healing mojo you might deal with some unpleasant flashbacks. But it’s a memory, nothing more. The past. You’re safe now.”
She blinked. “My eyes are…blurry.”
“But you can see?” His voice reflected his pleasure with that, reassuring her.
She nodded, then she recoiled, shutting her eyes tightly. “Oh Goddess. I looked at you. John…” Her hands were out, seekin
g, making sure he was still flesh.
“I’m here. It’s okay. Remember? Yvette spelled them. They can’t hurt anyone within the Circus boundaries.”
“Oh. Yes.” Her heart leveled out some from its frantic pounding. Opening her eyes, she clutched his hand, then lifted her other to his face, tracing his features she could make out, despite them being fuzzy on the edges. Or literally fuzzy. A smile touched her lips at the stubble on his jaw. “Is it nighttime?”
“It is. And I missed a shave yesterday. Had to help with a breakdown. You and I have been staying safely inside the portal while the rest of the troupe goes out to do their shows, but when they pack up to move on there’s always work to do. I’ve been shouldering a double load to earn our keep, what with you lazing around in bed all day.”
His teasing tone was belied by the faint tremor of his hand as he stroked her head, then he tunneled his fingers into her hair, cupping her skull to hold her against him. “I never want to feel that way again,” he said fervently. “Having you taken from me and not being able to get to you right away was the worst kind of hell.”
“I prefer not to experience that again myself.” She held him in return, pressing her lips into the juncture between his shoulder and throat. She loved his smell, a mixture of clean sweat from his exertions and his normal identifying scent. She loved the feel of his arms, his body, familiar and yet always so excitingly new.
She felt surprisingly well enough to notice that, to want him, whether or not that was yet advisable. She was also mostly pain free. It was as if she’d taken a long nap and now she was awake, ready to do anything.
But as she regained her wits, something intruded on her exhilaration. She became aware of other things. Or rather, the absence of other things.
Her wings were gone. And so were… Her hands left John and flew up to her hair, searching through the locks. “John, where are they? Are they…no. This doesn’t make sense. I can hear them, John. Please…”