“So he’s your boy, eh? What were you thinking, Dylan? That you’d soon be free? That you could just fall in love without my permission?” He glanced back at Travis. “He’s shifter, but he reeks of elvish kind. How sweet for you.” Dylan flinched at his words.
Ulric turned to Travis. “You think your hero will rescue you? Well, he’s mine, kid. I can make him do whatever the hell I want him to. Just before you came in the room, he sucked me off. Maybe I should make him bend over for me again. You can watch how he begs when I do him.”
Travis gripped his thigh and dragged the corner of the bedspread over, then pressed it to his hip. He was bleeding far too much. He swallowed past nausea.
Survive.
Dylan would be no help, so he looked at Jason and willed the young gremlin to think, to act. Jason was wild-eyed, struggling in Dylan’s grip.
“So Jason, you and Dylan here are going to be good friends. He’s going to teach you to hunt, though you probably can’t do it the way he does. No one can do it the way Dylan Ryve does it. He’s made fortunes for me. Thanks to you and your wide-eyed innocence, Dylan came back to me on his own, so he’s now mine heart and soul. You, though… I think we still have some negotiating to do.” Ulric’s tone was friendly and chatty, which sickened Travis even more.
“There’s nothing you can do to make me swear a geas to you, beast.” Jason fought and then went still. “Nothing.”
Ulric turned away from them and approached Travis, smiling sweetly. “Not even for your very best friend in the world?”
He reached down and gripped Travis’s hair, lifting him bodily from the floor. The pain made Travis dizzy, and he might have screamed.
“No! Don’t hurt him anymore!”
“Then we’ll talk.”
“Don’t, Jason. Look what he did to Dylan. It’s not worth it.” His arms windmilled, scrambling for something—anything. He looked at them, his heart aching for Jason’s fear, for Dylan’s grief. Tears trickled down his face. What would it take to break the geas? Dylan’s death? The death of Ulric? They were both immortal. Their only weakness…
He screamed. Fire raced through his body as Ulric gripped his torso, the fae’s iron-like fingers digging into his ribs. They broke easier than the bones in his pelvis and thighs. The damage was deep and vital. He choked on blood that welled up from his lungs.
“Steel,” he screamed. He slid back to the floor, looking at Jason in despair. A flare of understanding entered his blue eyes, and for the first time since he’d known him, Jason appeared…dangerous. He gazed around the room critically. He understood.
Dylan’s entire focus was on Travis, so he held his gaze, struggling to communicate love and forgiveness to the fae. Ulric was still focused on Travis as well, bloody hands on his hips, a smile on his face. Neither of them noticed the hairline cracks on the walls, the faint smell of plaster dust in the air.
Travis relaxed, giving himself to the pain, watching as hundreds—thousands—of tiny holes opened in the walls to reveal the gleam of metal. The building was old and sturdy, its skeleton made of wood, steel, and plaster. And steel was an alloy of iron. It was stronger and harder, longer lasting. The building groaned, and the air was alive with shimmering threads of cold steel, leaving behind a twisted mess in the walls. Pipes burst, and the walls crumbled till they lay open and exposed. Those dancing threads whirled like a small tornado, closing in on Ulric, who was suddenly aware of the danger.
“Dylan! To my side!”
Jason was abruptly released, but he never lost his focus. The maelstrom of steel glistened with lethal intent, smothering and engulfing the fae. Travis screamed, for Dylan was lost to his sight, and he fell back, bloody tears gliding down his face. He collapsed, grieving for the loss of Dylan, for the loss of those many years, sacrificed to a man with no worth at all. He couldn’t bear to watch but couldn’t turn away from the shimmering, gleaming storm. Within the vortex, Dylan and Ulric struggled and bucked under its weight, unable to withstand the toxic assault. They went down, and after the screaming faded away, they were still.
Slowly the metal storm whirled to a stop, and the tiny, needlelike shards tinkled to the floor like lethal raindrops. The fae lay motionless, covered with a fine film of glittering steel. Underneath, Travis saw Dylan’s dark coat; he’d thrown himself over Ulric to block him from the fury of Jason’s wrath.
“Dylan.” Travis’s voice was little more than a croak. He was bleeding heavily. Unable to shape-shift, Travis would eventually die. He didn’t care. Not anymore, not after what he’d seen, what he’d lost. “D…please…”
“He’s not dead.” Jason crawled over to Travis’s side. With a wave of his hand, the gremlin cleared away all the needles that covered the floor. Dylan’s black coat began to move, and as the fae rose to his knees, metal poured off him like water.
“Travis?” He started to crawl over and then halted, shaken and stunned. He looked at Ulric, whom he’d nearly died to protect. “I can talk…move… Ulric…”
“He is dead.” Jason sounded weary. He squatted next to Travis, blocking his view of the body. “Don’t look.”
“I have to, Jason.”
The young gremlin looked away from him, shamed and stricken. “It was… I didn’t know what else to do.” He stood and pulled Dylan to his feet, revealing Ulric.
The fae was dead; there was no doubt about that. He was wet with blood. The needles bristled from every inch of his skin, obscuring his features. Jason broke away and rushed to the sink, where he gagged and retched.
Dylan stared down at himself and cautiously shook shining needles from his clothing. He looked at Jason, amazement on his face. “Not a single shard pierced me. I covered Ulric with my body, and yet not a single needle…” He swayed and slid to the floor again.
Travis closed his eyes, relief warring with fear—a new fear. Outside a fire raged, and rogue wolves invaded his home. There was no help for him. James was on the front line. And his mother? She was good but not strong enough to pull him into his wolf form. That was now his only hope.
He coughed and felt a fresh trickle of blood come up.
“Travis?” Dylan’s voice was gentle. He stroked the skin around Travis’s eyes, then wiped the blood from his lips. “Don’t give up yet, little wolf. We’ll get help for you.”
Travis tried to talk but seemed to have lost the ability. They moved him to the bed, causing him to lose consciousness for a few moments. The next thing he knew, he was in the backseat of Dylan’s big black car, the roadway vibrating underneath. Dylan knelt on the floor next to him, stroking his hair, murmuring softly.
“Take me home.”
Dylan smiled and nodded. “We’re almost there.”
Chapter 23
He was afraid to move Travis. There was so much blood, so many bones broken.
Jason pulled the car to a stop in front of the house, and they got out to find Melody waiting, a dishcloth over her lower face, blocking out the smoke and ash in the air. Dylan coughed, but it didn’t seem to bother him or Jason as much as it did the shifters. Alarmed, he groped for the scarf he still wore and wrapped it around Travis’s face. The blue wool was stark against his pallor.
To her credit, Melody Feris didn’t panic, though she went pale. Kell was waiting too, and at Melody’s instruction, he ran into the house and returned quickly with a rudimentary backboard. Together they moved Travis onto the board and carried him up the broad steps. In the kitchen they carefully placed the board on the kitchen table they’d recently shared their Christmas feast over.
With trembling fingers she pulled away the blanket and breathed deeply as she examined his wounds. Her calm mask slipped, and Melody showed fear.
“I don’t… This is beyond me, Dylan. Even James, if he was here, he might not be able to help this.” She looked at him wide-eyed. She didn’t ask how it happened, nor did she castigate him. She took Travis’s hand in hers and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
She didn’t have to say that he was
dying. They all knew.
“Can you make him shift? Would that help?”
She shook her head. “I’m not strong enough, and as bad as he is, it’d take Dane and Blacque together. And”—she swallowed—“those broken bones. They’re too bad for him to correct with a shift. They have to be set before we could try forcing him to change.”
Weary, shaken, and heartbroken, Dylan sank into a chair. He gently brushed bloody curls from Travis’s face, wondering just how many more heartbreaks he could face. He’d never, ever forget the time in the motel—from the drug-induced hallucinations to the terrifying lap dance. Seeing Travis in the hands of Ulric was horrifying.
“I don’t know what to do, Travis.” He studied the straight nose, the full lips. Blood dried there—was that a good sign? Was he healing in spite of the shattered bones?
“Can you talk to him?” Jason looked at him anxiously. “I mean, you go into people’s dreams. Can you go…wherever he is now?”
“He’s not asleep, Jason. He’s unconscious.”
“But that doesn’t mean his mind has shut down.”
He had a point, but brain function and dreaming were two separate states of being. But he would try—he had to try. Dylan breathed deeply, reaching, feeling, and finding…nothing. He shook his head.
“He needs a doctor. Or at least dominants who can hold him steady until a healer can work on him.” Melody sounded hopeless. Dylan looked around the room, desperate for an answer. Kell stroked Travis’s leg, his anxiety so high that ice crackled everywhere he touched. Melody sat across the table, holding on to Travis’s other hand, and Jason paced. He was still shattered from the attack in the motel room.
The way he’d broken down the metals in the room, extracting steel from the walls, morphing it into deadly little arrows… And his accuracy… Not a single shard had touched Dylan’s skin.
“Melody, do you have surgical instruments in your first aid kit?”
“No, just basic tools for stitching, cutting cloth, that sort of thing.” Her voice quavered. “Even James couldn’t…”
An idea slammed into Dylan with the force of a brick. It was so damn, fucking dangerous, he’d be crazy to do it.
“Jason, get on the Internet, and get the specs for surgical instruments. You can form them, can’t you?”
The gremlin paused in his surprise. “Well, yes…with metal…”
“Get into the knife drawer. Kell, go find Dane’s laptop in his office. Melody…”
He looked at her uncertainly. The change in her expression told him she knew what he was doing, and it frightened her.
“Where are the keys to the basement rooms?”
Her eyes were huge. With a trembling hand, she dug into her pocket and handed him a ring with numbered keys dangling from it.
“Do you want to leave?”
She shook her head. “He’ll need help. I’m the only one who can do it.”
Clenching the keys in his hand, Dylan prayed for the best. He dashed down to the basement and jerked open the door to Deacon’s cell. The rogue was pacing, wild anxiety in his expression.
“What’s happening? I smell wood smoke and now blood. Please tell me we aren’t being burned out.”
“We’re not being burned out. But we need your help. Travis is hurt—badly. I think he’s dying.” He slid the key into the silver cell lock. “Please tell me you’re not crazy from that demon.”
“I feel it. Her. I feel my alpha, but I’m in control.”
“Okay, then, one more thing. Melody’s up there. If you can’t behave around her, I’ll send her away. And she’s the only other with medical training.”
Deacon went completely still. “I understand. I will behave.” He lowered his head in shame. After a moment he looked up again. “I’ll need Brenden. If the young man is as bad off as you say, his presence will be helpful.”
“Because he’s a dominant.”
Deacon nodded.
“What the hell.” He turned the key and opened the door. “Just know this, shifter. I can and I will rip you limb from limb if you betray us.”
A flicker of something… Fear? Respect? Deacon’s eyes dilated, then returned to normal. “Understood.”
He clamped a hand on Deacon’s shoulder and propelled him toward the stair. “I’ll come back for the other in a moment.” They dashed up the stairs, and Deacon barely glanced at Melody, going straight to Travis. He pulled back the blanket they’d tucked around him and studied his wounds.
“What…? Who did this?”
“A fae,” Jason replied. “A dead fae.”
Deacon looked at Jason in shock. He swallowed and returned to his examination, checking Travis’s pulse, accepting a stethoscope from Melody. He’d somehow changed from wild-eyed shifter to cool professional within the course of seconds.
“I have to move fast. His healing is sluggish, but the bones are trying to knit. His bleeding has slowed, which is good. He’s in shock, which isn’t good.” He looked at Dylan. “I’ll need Brenden.”
Within minutes Dylan had retrieved the other wolf and stood guard behind him, watching as Brenden helped wrestle broken bones into place. After that, the rogue stood at Travis’s head, doing nothing but watching Deacon work. He appeared idle, but his pale face and the sweat on his brow spoke otherwise. He was holding Travis’s life, keeping the young man alive and stable.
“I need some basic surgical instruments. A scalpel, at the least.” Deacon straightened up, sweat beading on his forehead.
Jason carried a plate to him. A shining tool rested on top of a paper towel. “I can sterilize it. Change it in any way you need it changed.”
Deacon’s eyes went wide as he lifted the instrument. “You made this?”
Jason nodded. He passed a hand over the scalpel, and it glowed. He glanced at Kell, who stepped up, his hand extended. The hot metal cooled with a puff of steam.
“It’s ready,” Kell said.
Taking the instrument from Jason, Deacon shook off his surprise and made an incision. “Normally I wouldn’t need to operate to set ribs, but whatever this guy did, he didn’t just break them. A couple are shattered. They’re doing a lot of damage inside. I might need to pin them.”
“Tell me what you’ll need, and I can make it.” Jason calmed and stood a little taller now that he had a purpose.
“Can’t he feel it?” Dylan’s skin was like ice. When a thin line of red appeared on Travis’s skin, he shivered.
“Brenden is keeping him unconscious. He’s also holding his vitals steady.” Melody gave him a faint smile. “As you know, drugs are unpredictable.” She and Deacon worked together seamlessly. Dylan had no clue how she managed to remain in control while the rogue performed field surgery on her son.
Melody Feris had a spine of steel.
He glanced away and searched for Kell. The elemental was watching through the window, staring into the distance. Jason stood back against the wall, his arms folded tightly around his body.
“I see someone coming.” Kell turned and looked at Dylan. “It’s one of the big trucks.”
“They’re bringing in the wounded.” Melody was in the zone, calmly handing Deacon supplies as he requested them. “Kell, Jason, there are folding cots and blankets in the room where you found the stretcher. Bring those out and begin to set them up in the living and family rooms. Also, bring out all the containers that are labeled as medical supplies.” She glanced up at Dylan. “We’ll need your strength to carry the wounded inside.”
He didn’t want to leave Travis, but there was no choice. The truck was drawing close to the porch, and he realized this wasn’t the first time the wolves had gone to war.
“Dylan, bring them in the other door, through the living room. We don’t want to disturb Deacon.”
“I’m nearly finished.” He looked up at Brenden. “We could really use Calum right now.”
Brenden shook his head. “He’s being affected by…it.”
“Do the two of you feel the demon?” D
ylan washed his hands, then dried them on a paper towel.
“Yes, but…not so bad. It’s like there’s a filter.” Brenden frowned. “They’re close, but it’s like they’re behind a curtain.”
“It’s the town. Arcada. She protects her own.” When they were desperate to bring Travis home, it never even occurred to Dylan that the town would turn him away. Not this time. Perhaps she was now protecting the rogue shifters as well. “What next?”
Deacon was quickly stitching the incision closed.
“He’s patched together well enough for now. He’ll need a dominant to hold him for a while, until he’s strong enough to shift.” The massive wolf stripped bloody gloves from his hands and threw them in a bag. “We’ll examine the wounded and work on the worst injuries first.”
The kitchen door burst open, and Michella stormed in, her face white with fury. “What the fuck is going on in here?” Jason and Kell were close behind.
“Dylan, we’ve got at least a half dozen who need to come in right now. They’re bad.” Jason looked at the beta uneasily. She was drawn and weary looking. Jason pulled a chair out for her.
“I don’t think we have time for explanations.” Dylan looked coolly at the woman. He supposed she deserved some measure of respect, but right now he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. “Travis was…mangled by the fae who helped the rogues invade the town. Deacon was our only hope to save him.”
The big shifter moved warily to the sink and cranked the water high. He washed again and returned to the makeshift surgical table, getting some distance from the furious beta. He went to Travis’s feet, nodding to Brenden. They moved the stretcher and followed Melody into another room in the house. When they came back, Brenden remained behind.
“I need help moving the injured.” Michella looked like the walking wounded herself. Deacon took one look at her and frowned.
“I want you to go someplace quiet and lie down. The rest of us will deal.”
“And I’m supposed to trust you because…?”
“You have no choice.” Melody busily set up new supplies. “We’re going to triage now. Please don’t put yourself on that list, Michella. We don’t have time to deliver a premature baby today.”
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