by Jayne Faith
I tore my eyes from Evan’s face so I could peer at Rogan. “What?”
“You got the reaper to give up its most prized possession. I’d say you truly are out of danger. Your soul, I mean.”
I gave a wry laugh. “Maybe as far as the reaper is concerned. But I’ve got this new problem. I think my brain is liquefying and leaking out my nose every time I use magic.”
He went still, and for a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine. I shouldn’t have said anything. I hadn’t meant to, but our ordeal—and having my brother there, right next to me—had lowered my defenses.
“Ella. You’ve got to get help.”
I waved a hand. “You know what? It’s worth it. Whatever the consequences are, I don’t even care. I’ve been through too much to worry about it. I don’t want anything to ruin this.”
I reached up to touch my brother’s shaggy hair, brushing it off his forehead. His brow creased as if something troubled him in his dreams.
Rogan didn’t argue, but I saw his jaw muscles flexing over and over as he accelerated onto the highway, taking us back toward home.
Evan was going to need medical care. I was going to have to get him into a treatment program to detox his system and get him to a point where he didn’t crave the high that came with vampire bites. He was going to need a lot of support to get clean and back on his feet. It would be a process. It would take time. It—
My brother’s eyelids lifted suddenly, and I inhaled sharply.
“Evan?” I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s me Ella. We’re taking you home.”
My brother growled and shifted forward. The blankets fell away from his chest. He swung out with a clumsy roundhouse punch that I saw coming but was too shocked to stop.
His knuckles connected with the edge of my jaw, and he drew back for another swing as stars danced around in my vision.
Chapter 21
I CAUGHT MY brother’s wrist before he could sock me again.
“Evan, calm down,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.
He continued to struggle, and I grasped both of his thin forearms as tightly as I dared. I didn’t want to bruise him.
Finally he stopped moving, except for his heaving chest. His eyes flashed with rage, inches from mine.
“You’ve fucked up everything,” he spat with surprisingly clear enunciation considering his condition. “Everything. You should have left me there. I didn’t ask for this! Why didn’t you leave me? You have no idea what you’ve done! You have no idea what you’re doing.”
His voice rose in pitch, and he continued cursing me out and started trying to jerk his arms from my grip.
Magic zipped through the air like static electricity, and Evan’s eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped against the seat.
“Just refreshed the sleeper spell,” Rogan said.
“Thanks.” I took a shaking breath, my heart still knocking at an uncomfortable pace.
“That had to sting a little,” he said quietly, and I knew he didn’t just mean Evan’s punch. Rogan looked at me in the rearview mirror. “The addiction talking, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” I said. But uncertainty curled darkly through me as the zombie’s warning crept up from memory.
Could Evan possibly know that he was sought after, that Jacob considered him the ultimate prize? Supposedly Evan possessed some special combination of power, some kind of unique rip-ending magic. Did my brother know what he was?
Again, I wondered what the hell I was doing, bringing Evan back to Boise. I pulled out my phone and dialed Damien.
“We’ve got Evan,” I said when he picked up. “But now I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing by taking him home.”
I recounted everything Zarella’s zombie had told me.
Damien was silent for so long, at first I thought we’d gotten disconnected.
“I’ll set some identity-masking wards around your apartment and your truck,” he finally said. His voice was oddly hollow, but his offer of help reassured me.
“Any suggestions for keeping his identity concealed when I have to put him into rehab?” I asked.
“I might be able to pull some strings,” he said.
I slumped with relief. “Thank you so much,” I said.
After a second or two with no response, I glanced at my phone and found he’d disconnected, probably even before I’d thanked him.
My stomach tightened. I tried calling him again twice, but he didn’t pick up.
Remembering my promise to the blood victims, I put in a call to Detective Lagatuda at Supernatural Crimes. Of course he wanted to know how I knew about the vampire feeder den, but I refused explanations.
I dropped my phone in my lap and then pulled my hands down my face, my thoughts going back to Damien. Had he found someone else to help him with Zarella’s job and already found the box? Had Damien taken the payment? I couldn’t tell by his voice if his magic had changed, but he hadn’t exactly been his usual self lately anyway.
I still wanted to believe he wouldn’t do it—that he hadn’t already gone through with it—but knew it was a childish hope.
There was nothing I could do about Damien, I reminded myself. Especially not now that I had Evan to worry about.
By the time we got back to Boise city limits, it was nearly midnight. Evan was still out cold.
My phone pinged with a text from Deb.
I’m going to Jen’s for the rest of the night. There’s a huge demon infestation on the block and your apartment—actually all the apartments in the house—got evacuated. Haven’t heard from you in a while, I hope you’re okay.
“Shit,” I muttered and tapped the call button.
“Hey, we’re almost home,” I said.
“With Evan?” Deb asked.
I glanced at my sleeping brother. “Yeah, we got him. He’s in rough shape, but—” My words became unsteady and choked off with the threat of tears. I cleared my throat.
“Oh, Ella, that’s amazing,” she said, her own voice thick with emotion. “I’m so happy for you. How’s he doing?”
“It’s going to be a tough road, but . . .” I paused to clear my throat again, trying to compose myself. “We’ll figure it out. What’s going on there?”
“Huge influx of minor demons,” she said, her irritation obvious. “None of the big ones, but there are so many, they’re having to evacuate us to clear them all.”
“Damn. Well, say hi to Jen.”
“You’ll be okay tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah, we’ll, uh, crash at Rogan’s,” I said, glancing at him questioningly. He gave me a little nod. “See you tomorrow?”
“For sure. And you know, Evan is really lucky to have you. At some point, he’ll understand just how lucky he is.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. Leave it to Deb to say the exact words I needed to hear.
“Thanks,” I whispered, and we ended the call.
I had to take a couple of breaths to steady myself.
“We can’t go to my place tonight,” I said. “There’s a demon infestation. Are you sure you don’t mind if we impose?”
“No problem,” he said.
I tipped my head back against the headrest. I didn’t like the idea of changing plans. Damien had probably already set the additional wards around my apartment. On the other hand, maybe it was better to hide out in a location that I didn’t frequent. I was probably being overly paranoid, anyway. According to Zarella, Jacob hadn’t known where Evan was for the past five years, so how would Jacob know that I had my brother suddenly? No one had followed us. Rogan and I had been watching carefully, and he had his demons on the lookout, too.
The attached garage at Rogan’s place allowed us to get Evan inside without the risk of neighbors watching. Good thing, because it would have looked odd, the two of us carrying an unconscious person inside. We settled my brother on the sofa, and I covered him with the blankets from the car.
Rogan and I watched Evan for a
moment.
“We’re going to have to let him wake up sometime,” Rogan said.
“Yeah. He needs medical care. Food. Maybe fluids, I don’t know.” I reached down to touch the side of Evan’s neck, feeling for a pulse.
My fingers brushed the raised scar tissue from old vampire bites. Vamp saliva had quick healing properties, often effective enough to leave the skin completely unmarred. To have scars this visible, his neck must have been punctured dozens and dozens of times without fully healing in between. My brother’s heartbeat was distinct and steady, his breaths slow and even. He seemed okay for the moment.
“Let’s give him one night of peace,” I said. “In the morning I’ll get him some care.”
I planned to call Gina, the healer nurse who’d treated me a couple of times. She seemed like someone who knew how to be discreet. If she could give Evan some preliminary treatment, it would at least be a start. Enough to hold him over until I could get him into a detox facility, I hoped.
“Your call,” Rogan said, his voice carefully neutral.
If he disagreed with my decision, he didn’t show it. The sudden weight of obligation, the knowledge that I was completely in charge of my brother’s care, descended onto me like a lead blanket. It wasn’t that I didn’t want the responsibility, it was more the sense that where only a few hours before there was nothing, suddenly there was this. Him.
I thought of Deb and her unborn baby, and how there would come a day when something similar would happen for her. There would be the moments before, and then the moments after, when everything would permanently change.
I passed a hand over my tired eyes. Loki had been sniffing around the house, but he seemed to reflect my fatigue as he picked a spot near the sofa, turned three times, and lay down.
“I want to keep an eye on him,” I said, tearing my eyes from Evan’s face to cast a glance at Rogan. I gestured to the recliner. “I’ll stay there for the rest of the night.”
Rogan came over to me and reached for my coat zipper. He pulled it down and then took the coat off my arms and tossed it over the arm of the sofa. There wasn’t anything suggestive about way he did it, but when he looked into my eyes, there was a hint of contained heat.
He held my face in his hands. “You did it. You saved him. Now let yourself rest, okay?”
He pressed his lips to mine for a long moment. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what I looked like—bloodstained, dirt-smeared, and battle worn.
After I pulled away, the tiniest of smiles playing across my face.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I whispered.
I went into the bathroom and pretty much ruined one of Rogan’s washcloths in my effort to scrub my face, hands, and the remnants of blood from the vamp bite. Then I actually did sleep for a while, and I dreamed of wandering the in-between. The endless gray was somehow soothing, almost meditative, and in my dream I understood why Rogan wanted to return there.
When I woke up, the sharp light of the winter morning slanted through the window behind me.
Evan had pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking disoriented. Loki stood a few feet away, his tail waving tentatively as he watched my brother. When Evan swiveled his head and spotted me, I expected his anger to return. Instead, he just looked tired and almost blank.
He sagged back down, wincing and squeezing his eyes closed. “Where am I?”
I scrambled to my feet and went over to kneel next to him. I wanted to grab him, to wrap my arms around his broad, thin shoulders, but I was careful not to touch him.
“We’re at my friend Rogan’s house,” I said.
Evan’s lips were cracked and dry. He looked at me, his eyes glassy and ringed with circles that were bruise-dark. I could see recognition flicker in his eyes. But there was no real warmth.
“Let me get you some water,” I said, rising and walking swiftly to the kitchen to fill a glass. I brought it to him and then tried not to hover. “Think you could hold down some food?”
He drank and then sighed deeply. “Is Blossom’s Deli still around?”
His voice sounded so strange to me—it had deepened and taken on a rich timbre that hadn’t been there before. The fact that I didn’t even recognize my own brother’s voice pulled at my heart. But I nodded like a bobble head, thrilled that he remembered the deli.
“Yeah,” I said. “I stop there all the time. Want the usual? Does that sound good?”
I knew I seemed way over-eager, but I couldn’t help myself.
One corner of his mouth stretched a little, almost forming a half-smile, and my heart nearly cracked in two.
“Yeah. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it down, honestly, but it sounds damned good.”
I let out a little laugh before I could help myself, as if he’d just told a great joke.
Rogan came out of the hallway leading to his bedroom just then, and catching my expression, his face relaxed into a broad grin.
I made the introductions and went to grab my coat to head out for Evan’s sandwich but then stopped short and turned to Rogan as my fears crashed over me again. I couldn’t just leave.
Seeming to read my mind, Rogan beckoned me into the kitchen.
“I don’t want to leave him,” I whispered.
“I’d go,” Rogan said. “But I think you’ve already pushed your limits magic-wise.”
My shoulders sagged. He was right. Even the thought of using magic was enough to make my temples throb. I’d be useless against a threat, even a small one, at least until I got treated for magical exhaustion. Even then, I wasn’t sure healing would fix me, but that was a worry for later.
Rogan was powerful, far more so than I was. Evan was better off with Rogan watching over him.
He passed me his keys. “You’ll be back in no time.”
I just stood there for a second.
He made shooing motions. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back. It’s just a sandwich run. Go, Ella.”
“You want anything?” I asked, zipping up my coat.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll see if Evan’s up for bathing while you’re out.”
“Good idea,” I said with a short laugh. “He reeks.”
As I pulled the Jeep out of the garage, I felt a sense of buoyancy. Not carefree by any means, but just a little lighter. Maybe it was due to the mundane errand on behalf of my brother. The complete and utter normalcy of it. Perhaps it was because it reminded me of years ago when we were kids. Or maybe because it gave me a tiny glimmer of hope that eventually he would be okay.
Before he’d disappeared, and in the times when he was actually home and lucid, he’d been obsessed with the number three-and-a-half, a sandwich on the secret menu at Blossom’s Deli. A weird combo of salami, roast beef, and a thin layer of sauerkraut that I personally found a little disgusting. We didn’t have much money back then, so even a deli sandwich was a luxury, but given the choice, that was what he always wanted. Not pizza or a milkshake or a fast-food burrito like a normal teenager.
The deli opened early, having a small menu of breakfast sandwiches for the morning crowd. I got my own usual—boring turkey—and Evan’s abomination.
On the way back to Rogan’s, the wail of sirens forced me to pull over and let the emergency vehicles pass. When I saw the familiar Strike Team trucks, my stomach plummeted. I tried to tell myself it had nothing to do with Evan, that I was just paranoid. But they were heading toward Rogan’s area. I watched as they passed, and then everything seemed to speed up. As soon as I could pull out, I jerked the wheel over to get back into traffic and jammed on the gas.
With my heart in my throat, I raced toward Rogan’s, swerving through traffic and running stop signs.
“No, please, no,” I whispered over and over, as if my pleading could have any effect on what was happening.
I could already see the flashing lights up ahead. Supernatural Crimes cruisers sped around me.
I screeched to a halt half a block from Rogan’s, unab
le to pull up any closer. With my heart slamming in panic against my chest, I threw the door open, jumped out, and ran toward the house.
Chapter 22
STRIKE TEAM AND Supernatural Crimes were trying to form a police line around the house. Some of the armored Strike personnel were already storming inside.
I tried to bust through the line, but a couple of the Strike guys stopped me, nearly clotheslining me in the process.
More vehicles were pouring in behind us. Everyone was shouting. It was a madhouse.
“My brother’s in there!” I shouted above the commotion, tearing at the hands holding me back. “Let me go!”
Someone was yelling my name, trying to get my attention. I turned, and some part of my brain was surprised to see SC Detective Lagatuda. He turned me around and held me hard by the upper arms.
“Who’s in there?” he demanded.
“My brother. Evan. And Rogan. This is Rogan’s house.” I couldn’t seem to spit out more than broken sentences. “Please, you have to let me go in there. My brother’s not well.”
“No! You can’t go in.” His eyes were tense and unblinking.
Lagatuda looked scared. At first I thought he was empathizing with my own distress, but understanding began to seep through my panic. There was something really, really bad inside Rogan’s house.
The realization launched me into a new bout of struggling to break through the line. Lagatuda grabbed my arm and shoved it behind my back, nearly forcing me down to one knee as his hold strained my shoulder joint.
“Ella, listen to me, damn it,” he thundered in my ear. “You cannot go in there.”
My heart still racing, I relented. “Okay, okay. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”
He let go of my arm. “It’s bad. Some kind of rip spawn we haven’t seen before. Worse than an arch-demon, much worse.”
I looked up at the house just as one of the windows blew out, sending shattered glass raining down into the front yard. An armored Strike Team guy had flown through, landing in shards in a heap. He didn’t move. A few others in Strike uniforms ran up to drag their comrade away from the house. Dark smoke that crept like fog began seeping out from the busted window. Something flashed inside, like licks of lightning.