by Cate Dean
“Bad, Sara. But he’s fighting.”
“Hillside Hospital is right there, so the paramedics will be on site any minute. Please stay with him, Bran, and tell him—” She took a deep breath. “Never mind. I’ll tell him.”
“I’ll be with him every second I can. I’ll see you at the hospital.” He heard the paramedics, and ended the call. “I’m going to go flag them down, Nick. Don’t go anywhere.”
“You’re a—laugh riot. Bran.” He squeezed Bran’s hand, his grip weaker. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, my friend. Hold on, now. Sara has something she wants to tell you.”
Bran freed Nick’s hand and pushed to his feet, hitting the door as the paramedics appeared, running through the food court. He waved them over, holding the door for the wheeled gurney. The closest paramedic caught his arm and pulled him along.
“What do we have?”
“Knife wound, lower back, close to the spine.” Sara must have told them he was a cop, because they were treating him like he wasn’t a civilian. “The blade is still in him. Whoever attacked him broke it off.”
“Got it.” The paramedic crouched behind Nick and gently laid his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I’m Ethan, Detective Phillips, and I’m here to get you to the hospital in one piece, and breathing.”
“That would—be good.” Nick was having trouble with the breathing part. “Bran—”
“I’m right here.” He knelt in front of Nick and took his hand. “Just focus on breathing, and let these men take care of you.”
Nick closed his eyes, and Bran forced down the panic. Nick was breathing, and minutes away from the hospital. He’d make it.
He had to.
~ ~ ~
As a half-demon, Bran could do some amazing things.
Preventing a friend from dying wasn’t one of them.
He held Nick’s hand, watched the paramedics work over him, and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in.
Once Nick was stable, Bran let go of him so the two men could transfer him to the wheeled gurney.
Ethan paused next to Bran. “We’re taking him to Hillside.”
Bran nodded, following them out. Hillside was just down the street, and contained the best trauma unit in this part of California. He didn’t want to be here when Nick’s colleagues showed. There would be too many questions—questions he couldn’t answer.
Right now, Nick was his primary concern. And the fallout of his attack.
If any of the Fae of the Light Court learned about Torlogh’s plans, and the fact that one of their own was helping him, they might take him out—and Santa Luna with him.
Bran wasn’t about to let that happen to his adopted home.
Twenty Seven
I puttered around Bran’s spacious house, trying not to pry as I tidied up. As soon as the slow moving clock finally hit ten-thirty, I couldn’t wait any longer. I called the store, my heartbeat slowing when Shella picked up.
“Thank you for calling The Dragon’s Breath, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Shella. It’s Reese.”
“Good to hear from you. How are you doing?”
I gave her a quick summary, leaving out what I could and still have it make sense. “I’m still at Bran’s house. I’ll give you the number, in case you need anything.”
“Thanks. I’m having fun in here. Your taste in jewelry is stunning, Reese. I think I’ve spent my last check with the agency three times over already.”
I smiled. Her enthusiasm was infectious. “You do get a substantial discount as an employee, so factor that in.”
“Oh—well, then. That changes everything.”
We talked a little longer, until her first customer interrupted us.
“Call if you need anything,” I said.
“You got it. Wish me luck.”
I hung up, still smiling, and turned to find Mom in the doorway. “How are you?”
“Better.” She rubbed her arms, and I could see the glow of her tattoos, even through her sweater. “Stop worrying, Reese. I just renewed them, so they are more visible.”
“What? You shouldn’t be using more of your strength.” I stalked over to her and wrapped my arm around her waist. “I want you to sit on the sofa, and don’t do anything.”
“Can I breathe?”
“Hilarious, Mom.” Well, I did inherit my sarcasm from someone. “Just—sit.”
She did, watching me as I moved around the living room. I picked up the remote, turned on the TV, and handed the remote to her.
“Thank you,” she said, some of that inherited sarcasm in her voice. That told me she was feeling better.
This was the first time since I had opened my store that I found myself with nothing to do. I wasn’t all that sure I liked it. The lack of activity gave me time to think—about those two kids, what they must be going through, and what we could do to get them away from Torlogh and still be breathing. On top of it, having Mom here, sneaking glances at me every other minute, wasn’t helping.
I wanted to talk to Bran, find out what he learned from Detective Phillips, but I didn’t want to disturb them if they were still talking. I finally got so bored, I wandered into the kitchen and started making lunch, ignoring the fact that it was only eleven o’clock.
“Reese.” Mom walked over to me, and took my hand. “I know you’re worried about him. I have to admit—I was wrong about him. He is a good man, and I’m happy you found each other.” She cradled my cheek, tears blurring her eyes. “I’ve never seen you this happy.”
“Mom.” I hugged her, knowing we both needed it. “I’ve never felt like this, about anyone. It scares the hell out of me, but the way I feel about him also centers me. He’s the one, Mom.” I pulled back, so I could look at her when I said it. “He’s the man I’m going to marry.”
Mom sighed, and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I was hoping you would find a normal, human husband. But now that you—” she swallowed, pain flashing in her eyes. “Now that you know what you are, I believe Bran is the best man to have at your side. Even if he is half demon.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hugged her again, needing her approval more than I thought. The fact that she gave it so freely told me she wasn’t making nice about Bran because it was what I wanted to hear. After final squeeze, I let her go. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” She moved over to the fridge and opened it. “So, what do we have to work with?”
“Bran likes healthy food.” I’d discovered that the first time I opened his fridge.
“I like him better already.” Mom smiled at me over her shoulder, looking more like her old self.
She started pulling items off the shelves, for what looked like a healthy, boring salad. Did I mention that I hate salad? I’d been healthy food and vitamin loaded from the time I could walk, and salad of any kind was not part of my lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong—I do vegetables. Just not salad. You’d feel the same way if you’d eaten salad at least twice a day for most of your life.
I resigned myself to the salad, and went hunting for a nice, thick, calorie laden dressing. I could have kissed Bran when I found a bottle of blue cheese dressing from Billie’s Pub, the local bar and restaurant that had some of the best steak in the area.
We sat down to the early lunch, and Mom frowned as I drowned my salad in glorious blue cheese dressing.
“Reese—”
“I’m an adult now, Mom. You want me to eat salad? This is how I eat salad now.” I studied her, daring her to say something else.
Instead, she shook her head, and started eating her lemon and oil dressed salad.
I took my first bite, and my taste buds thanked me. Bran and I would have to have dinner at Billie’s one night—my treat, for saving me from lemon and oil salad hell.
Once I’d had my fill—which didn’t take long, believe me—I sat back. It was time for some more truth.
“Mom.” Her fork froze over her plate. “Something happened yesterday, when I saw those kids.”
She lowered her fork, fear darkening her eyes. “You saw their life force, didn’t you?”
“It was so strong—I thought if I followed the trail of it, I—”
“Could rescue them, bring them back.” I nodded, and she stood, holding out her hand. “Let’s go sit on the sofa.” She led me out of the kitchen, and we sat close together, Mom still holding my hand. “I want you to describe exactly what happened. Don’t leave anything out, Reese.”
I did, including what Bran did to bring me back. “He told me to talk to you. His mother was a Seer.” Mom raised her eyebrows. “She had an accident.”
“Ah. I must say, I am relieved he was there, and knew how to pull you back. I can show you techniques I learned from my mother, before she passed.”
“Mom—I’m sorry.”
She patted my hand, smiling. “It was her time, and it was long ago.” Her smile faded. “True Seers do more than See, Reese. I was often the lead in the hunt for a missing person, or an important item that had been taken.” Some memory flashed in her eyes, but she blocked it before I could get a better look. “Your visions of the future will be random on this side of the Veil—and never take them at face value, Reese. One thing I have learned is that the future is not set.”
“Good to know.” Relief would be an understatement, compared to what I felt after hearing that.
“I never wanted this for you, but I should have offered as soon as your power was—as soon as you—”
“It’s okay, Mom.” I squeezed her hand. “A lot has happened since Maeve walked into my store. Once those kids are safe, we can talk.”
“Reese—”
“Don’t say it.” I let go of her hand. “I’m connected to this, and I’m going to help them. I have to,” I whispered, remembering the feel of their life force. “I won’t leave them with that monster.”
“All right. Just promise me one thing.”
I sighed. “If I can.”
“Come back to me.” Tears edged her voice. “I’ve already lost one I love to the realm. I won’t lose another.”
I couldn’t promise, but I could ease the pain I saw on her face. “I’ll do my best. I promise you that.”
“Oh, Reese.” She held out her arms, and I was happy to accept the hug. “I’m so proud of you, and so scared at the same time.”
“So am I, Mom.” I pressed my face against her shoulder, and just held on. “So am I.”
Twenty Eight
Bran’s demon loved hospitals.
So many potential souls, on the edge of death, to take over. Not that the demon could; his human half prevented that. But the need was still there, humming through his blood.
He hated hospitals.
For Nick, he’d deal with the need.
One way was shutting down all his emotions, becoming the cold, humorless being he had once been. It was easier than he expected, and that scared him. He touched the ring Reese had given him. That would be his talisman, his way back to himself. Back to her.
She would save him in more than one way.
He stopped at the information desk. “A friend of mine was just brought in. Detective Nick Phillips.” He knew that pinpointing Nick as a cop would accelerate a response. Santa Luna, and the surrounding cities like Hillside, loved and respected their police force.
The nurse tapped on her keyboard. “Detective Phillips has just been taken to surgery. No need for alarm, sir.” She laid her hand on Bran’s wrist, and he was thankful for the health radiating from her. “The knife nicked his spine, and the surgeon wants a closer look.”
“Thank you.” Her explanation didn’t ease his concern.
“You can wait in the family room in ICU. That’s where they’ll bring him after surgery.”
He nodded, and followed the signs to ICU. No one else sat in the small, pastel room, so he closed the door, pulled out his cell, and tapped in his home number. He shouldn’t have been using his phone, but he was far away from any machines, and he wanted to keep tabs on Reese.
Just in case.
“Hello?”
“Reese—it’s me.”
“Bran.” Her voice brightened. “How did the meeting go?”
He paused, not sure what to tell her. “Nick was attacked.”
“Oh, no. Is he—”
“In surgery. I’m at the hospital right now. Reese—” he closed his hand into a fist, wanting to punch something. Preferably the Fae who had stabbed Nick. “It was the Fae working with Torlogh. She followed Nick, hoping to use him to get to me.”
“She?”
“Nick saw her.”
“Did you get a description?”
“He was in too much pain.” Bran closed his eyes, and sank to the chair against the wall. “She broke the blade off in his back, Reese,” he whispered. “Next to his spine.”
“Do you want me there?” Her quiet, gentle voice soothed him in a way he didn’t expect.
“More than I can tell you. But I want you to stay at my place—you’ll be safe there. If she can’t get to me, she might go after you.”
“But she won’t know where to find me. Will she?”
Bran sighed, and ran one hand through his hair. “No. And if I go home, I could lead her straight to you. Torlogh must be feeling desperate, if he’s risking open attacks on this side of the Veil.”
“What are you saying?” He hated that he put the fear in her voice.
“Once I know Nick is stable, I’m going to my office. We can figure out our next steps when I get there. It’s almost as protected as my house, so stop frowning, Reese.” He didn’t need to see her to know that she was.
“Fine.” Oh, yeah—she was not happy. “How am I supposed to get to your office?”
“I have another car, in the garage. It’s still dirty from my last trip into the mountains, but it’ll get you down there. The full moon is tonight.”
“I haven’t forgotten—about tonight, or those poor kids. They must be terrified, Bran.”
“We’ll get them back.” No matter what it cost him.
Her sigh filtered through the phone. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Bran closed his eyes. “As okay as I can be, with my best friend in surgery. Because of me.”
“Stop blaming yourself, Bran. You couldn’t have known—we both thought I was the target.”
He knew that. But he would still blame himself for what happened to Nick. If not for him, Nick wouldn’t have been in the line of fire.
“How is your mom?”
“Nice avoidance tactic,” she said. “Mom is doing better. I’ll leave her here when I go to meet you. Yes, I will.” Her voice faded, so Bran figured she was talking to Fiona. “You still need rest, and I don’t want you part of this. Sorry.” Her voice got louder again. “Call me when you know more.”
“I will.” He leaned his head back against the wall. He wanted to hear her voice, just talk with her about anything. But he been on the phone too long already. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I love you, Bran.”
He closed his eyes. “I love you back, Reese.”
He ended the call, and tucked the phone in his jacket pocket. It was then that he finally noticed the blood staining his hands. Nick’s blood.
Tears burned his eyes, and he finally let go, let himself feel the pain. He had learned the hard way, as a young boy, not to keep his emotions bottled up.
He managed to pull himself together by the time the doctor appeared.
“Mr. Malcolm? I’m Dr. Powers.”
Bran stood. “How is he?”
“Detective Phillips got through the surgery just fine. But there was damage, to his spine.” Bran nodded, dread quarreling in his gut. “We won’t know until the swelling has gone down, but as of right now, he has no motor function in his legs.”
“Can I see him?”
Dr. Powers nodded. “He’s in recovery, and still out of it. I can give you fifteen minutes with him. Please, come with me. I’ll take you to him.”
/>
Bran followed him out of the small waiting room, grief threatening to overwhelm him. If Nick was disabled because of what happened, Bran would never forgive himself.
~ ~ ~
After his allotted time, Bran left Nick, and walked back to the mall for his car.
It was time to regroup, to make a solid plan—and ready themselves for tonight. Torlogh would start the ritual as soon as he could, and Bran needed to be ready to spring before the bastard laid one finger on those kids.
All the way to his office, he let his mind wander. He discovered a long time ago that a plan usually formed when he didn’t try to force it. By the time he pulled into his parking space, he had the beginning of a plan—one that might actually get him out in one piece. More or less.
All he had to do was break the news to Reese that she wouldn’t be part of it.
He unlocked the door to his office—and sensed the trap too late.
The tip of a knife pierced his left side. Fire roared through him, dropped him to his knees.
The knife was iron.
He could hold iron, be around it, but if iron penetrated, he had no defense against it. The Fae followed him down, her voice caressing him.
“You have been a thorn, demon. My master has sent me to pluck you out, so he can use you to his advantage.” She pushed the blade in deeper, and Bran recoiled, trying to escape the agony that exploded through his chest. “He told me you would be brought down by this small, ugly blade. I must confess, I did not believe him. You stink of power, demon, but it seems your human half has weakened what your father gave you.”
She reached in his pocket and pulled out his crystal, letting it fall to the floor. He moaned as the heat from the invading iron intensified without his barrier. With an impatient sound, she hauled him to his feet, holding him up when his legs refused to work.
“We will go and meet my master now. He is preparing for the ritual, and your power, filthy as it is, will give him what he needs to be free.”
“No—”
He let out a choked gasp when she drove the blade in to the hilt.