Saving Jace

by Rebecca Rivard

  Jace set a hand on her back. “Maybe she’s an amplifier,” he said to Suha as he massaged her in slow circles.

  “A what?”

  Suha lifted a brow. “You just might be right. An amplifier works with a healer,” she told Evie, “adding their energy to the healer’s—but they can’t heal on their own.”

  “Last night,” he said, “you were able to add your energy to Suha’s.”

  “And the fae lights?” asked Evie.

  “Who knows?” The healer shrugged. “There’s something about your energy that draws them, and that enhances your own.”

  Evie’s face fell. “So if this is true—that I’m a—whatever you call it—then I’m not going to be able to heal people on my own.”

  “Amplifiers are valuable, too,” he said.

  “Yeah?” She seemed unconvinced. But then, for someone like her it would be a dream come true to have the Gift of healing. Jace hated seeing her so disappointed. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and tell her it was all right, that she was perfect just as she was.

  “I’m sorry.” Suha squeezed Evie’s hand. “To be a healer is an amazing Gift, one I thank the Goddess for every single day. But think about it—you can still help heal people. Any Gifted healer would pay to work with you. We get stretched to our limits, especially when sickness sweeps through the clan, or when we’re under attack.”

  Evie’s chin lifted. “I wouldn’t charge. I might not have much money, but I’m not going to take payment for helping to heal someone. If you need me, just ask.”

  “That’s good of you,” Suha responded, “but it’s only fair that you get paid. Look at me—anyone in the clan can come to me for healing, and I’m happy to help however I can. But in return, the alpha pays me a salary. How would I live otherwise? Healing is my calling—but it’s my job, too, just like the doctors and nurses in your world. And sometimes, people give me something extra—food, a piece of pottery, a hand-knit sweater. It would be wrong to refuse, don’t you think? When they’re only trying to thank me.”

  Evie nodded slowly.

  “So if I call on you to help me—and I will—you’ll accept payment for it, or else I won’t feel right asking. You’ll need to be trained, of course. Energy work can burn you up if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Leesa,” said Jace. The woman was a deer like Suha, and one of the few elders to survive the Darktime. Leron Savonett had simply ignored her—to him, deer were the bottom of the barrel.

  Suha nodded. “Leesa is our only amplifier. I’ll call her later if you’re up for it.”

  Evie wrapped a hand around her coffee cup. One thumb rubbed the surface. “Thank you,” she said without looking at Jace, “but we’re probably not going to be here that long.”

  Suha’s brows shot up. “I see. Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

  24

  Corban Savonett hailed a cab in the Baltimore Inner Harbor.

  “Druid Hill Park,” he barked.

  The cabby was a young male with the black hair and features of a south Asian—Pakistani, perhaps. His gaze went to the bloody gash on Corban’s neck, and he opened his mouth to say no.

  Corban was already inside. He gazed back steadily.

  The cabby shut his mouth. “Yes, sir.”

  Corban dropped his backpack on the seat and tried not to look as weary as he felt. He’d taken a stolen motorboat to Baltimore and then abandoned it near the aquarium. He’d lost a lot of blood before he’d been able to seal the gash on his neck, and he hadn’t had any energy left to deal with the chunk Jace Jones had taken out of his thigh. He was no healer, and his quartz was drained from the demands he’d put on it to track Jace Jones to his human girlfriend’s house.

  His lip curled. Figured Jones was chasing human tail. The man was weak, just like his sister. Takira could’ve been a high-ranking sentry, but she’d thrown it all away for her mate and that mixed-blood cub of hers.

  The cab bounced over a pothole and pain jolted through Corban. A hiss escaped him and the cabby muttered an apology.

  Corban ground his teeth. Damn Jace Jones anyway. The man should be dead by now. It had been two against one, and Corban had always been able to whip his ass.

  But the scrawny kid had grown up. Corban should’ve realized that when the night fae assassin had failed to kill him, but he’d chalked it up to bad luck.

  The ride to the park took fifteen minutes. The cabby let him out at an entrance near Jones Falls Expressway. “No charge,” he said.

  Corban jerked his chin in acknowledgment. He hadn’t been planning to pay the guy anyway.

  The street was dark and deserted, the nearest streetlight dangling brokenly from its pole. The only sound was the low-grade hum of traffic on the expressway.

  The cabby eyed him in the rearview mirror, his scent an acrid mix of fear and perspiration.

  Smart man.

  Corban toed off his shoes and left them on the floor of the cab. His switchblade was already concealed in his hand. In one swift move, he hooked his left arm around the cabby’s throat and at the same time, pressed the blade’s catch. It sprang open and he touched the point to the cabby’s cheekbone just beneath his eye.

  “Don’t move or I’ll take your eye out.”

  “Easy, there.” The cabby slowly raised his hands. “I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t even charge you for the ride.”

  “You’re a fucking prince among men. Now give me your shoes.”

  The man’s throat worked. “My shoes?”

  Corban pressed the knife deeper. Just enough to nick his cheek. It was a bluff—the last thing he needed was the attention that cutting the cabby would bring—but the man said, “Sure, sure. But you have to let go first. I can’t reach them.”

  “Open your door.”

  “Okay. Here I go.” The man unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go down. I’ll let you go, and you toss your shoes out the door.”

  “That’s all? You just want my shoes?”

  “That’s all.”

  “Okay, sure. No problem.”

  Corban released the cabby but stayed close, breathing down his neck.

  The man took off his shoes and tossed them out the door as directed. His hands were trembling, and his breath was coming in fearful huffs.

  Corban sneered. Humans were so easy to scare.

  “There.” The cabby met Corban’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “My shoes, just like you asked.”

  Corban shoved open his door without answering. The moment his feet touched the sidewalk, the cabby pulled shut his door, hit the gas and sped off.

  Corban swore and jumped back, barely avoiding being sideswiped. The cab kept going down the street, the back door still open.

  Corban pushed his feet into the man’s leather loafers. They were shiny brown and with that just-bought smell. He wiggled his toes. They fit good, too. He’d got the better of that bargain.

  Adric was a legendary tracker. Corban didn’t think Adric could follow Corban’s scent through his shoes, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Better to be safe.

  His destination was a quarter mile away near Jones Falls, the large creek that ran through Druid Hill Park. He hobbled toward it as fast as he could, careful not to brush against trees or bushes.

  He reached the boulder that covered the entrance and sank down on it, heart pounding with the effort it had taken to get here. But every minute he spent above ground was dangerous. He shoved the boulder aside, uncovering the entrance to a small, hidden den, lowered himself partway down the rickety metal ladder and with his last ounce of energy, set the boulder back in place before descending the last few feet to the floor.

  The den was basically a dirt cellar with a water supply and a toilet. Corban had dug it out in secret, so that not even his father had known about it. No lighting, which meant it was pitch black. Corban paused, waiting for his eyes to go night-glow. When he could see again, he limped his way to
the two musty wool blankets stacked in a corner. Sinking onto the blankets, he eased off his pants and examined the back of his thigh. The wound had scabbed up, but it needed to be cleaned. With grim determination, he rose back to his feet and went to the sink.

  It had been a couple of years since he’d been here. The spigot gave a groan and a pop, and then rusty water gushed out. He let it run until it was clear, and then found a clean T-shirt from his backpack and used it to rinse the dried blood from his neck and thigh.

  He was too drained to change to his wolf. He rolled himself up in a blanket and allowed himself a smile. Adric would never find him here.

  Then he passed out on the dirt floor.

  25

  After Suha left, Evie and Jace took a walk to Druid Hill Park along with Kyler and Beau.

  “Should be safe enough,” Jace said. “The night fae won’t be out on a sunny summer day—their skin’s too sensitive to light. And Corban’s gone to ground.”

  “And the day Savonett gets past the two of us,” growled Beau, “is the day I slit my own throat.”

  So the four of them headed up to the surface. The way out led through the big shed. Evie had only caught a glimpse of it last night, but now she could see it was filled with motorcycles and a car with most of its insides removed. There was a huge workbench at one end, and a mix of human tools and those which looked like they were quartz-powered.

  Kyler’s eyes bulged. “Wow,” he breathed with a reverence usually reserved only for his favorite games.

  “Sam’s the mechanic,” said Jace, “but we all like to mess with engines.”

  “Sick.” Kyler ran a hand over a cobalt-blue fuel tank. “If you need any help, just yell.”

  “I will.” Jace opened the outside door and inhaled, testing the air. “Seems clear, but wait here a minute.” He moved forward. Evie was reminded again that he was part cat. There was something very feline in his walk—loose and easy, each step precise, graceful.

  Beau ambled out behind him. He tipped his head back and inhaled deeply. “No sign of Savonett or a night fae,” he agreed.

  Jace nodded and motioned to Evie and Kyler to join him. Kyler and Beau walked on ahead, leaving her and Jace to follow.

  Evie couldn’t get it out of her head—she was part fae and she apparently had some kind of Gift. An amplifier, whatever that was supposed to be. But it felt right—she’d felt the heat in her hands and had somehow known she was helping to heal Jace.

  When Suha had offered to get her training, she’d lit up inside—until she’d realized she couldn’t accept. Jace hadn’t said anything, but when she’d refused, he’d removed his hand from her back.

  But he must know this was only temporary. He’d said himself they didn’t mix.

  She sighed. What she really wanted was to talk this over with Fane, because if it was true that she was part fae, why hadn’t anyone told her?

  Jace had said that speaking a fae’s name attracted their attention, but it hadn’t worked to call Fane in the past, except maybe that time right before her mom died. Still, as they walked down the driveway, she turned to Jace and deliberately said her dad’s name aloud.

  “Do you think Fane could help me?”

  He raised a brow. “Your dad?”

  “Yeah. Fane.” She repeated it a little louder. “I have some questions—like what kind of fae am I? And why the hell didn’t I know?”

  Jace slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe he’s trying to protect you. If you’re mostly human, you don’t want to be in the fae world. You’d be at the bottom of the food chain, powerless against the stronger fae. And those pricks eat their young.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Or maybe he doesn’t want to admit he has a mixed-blood daughter.”

  He tightened his grip but didn’t say anything. She winced inwardly, recalling his niece Merry was in a similar situation.

  She blew out a breath and set Fane from her mind, because when had he ever come when she needed him? Meanwhile, it was a gorgeous day and a hot-as-hell guy had his arm around her. If she was only going to have these few days with him, then she was going to squeeze every last bit of enjoyment from it.

  Jace’s neighbors were seated on their marble stoops, chatting to friends and enjoying the morning sun. The houses were small, each on a tiny piece of land, but they were neat and well-kept. Everyone they passed called out a friendly hello to the two fada. Jace and his den mates were clearly well-liked.

  A tiny girl in a pink dress with her hair in tight cornrows pelted down the sidewalk, her mother a few yards behind. “Up, Mister Jace.” She raised her arms imperiously.

  “Chantelle.” He released Evie and swung her into his arms. “How’s my girl?”

  “I los a toof.” She pointed to the space where one of her front teeth used to be. “Mama says the toof fairy is gonna bring me a dollar.”

  Jace smiled at her mother. “Morning, Kari.”

  “Morning,” she returned and then shook her head at her daughter. “Chantelle, don’t bother Mister Jace. He’s got visitors today.” She gave Evie an apologetic smile.

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Evie said.

  “Good,” said Jace, “because me and Miss Chantelle are old friends, aren’t we?” He dropped a kiss on her small rosebud of a mouth.

  Chantelle pursed her lips and kissed him back. “See, Mama. He likes it.”

  “Hmm,” he said with a wink at Kari. “Which little girl I know likes to fly?”

  “Me, Mister Jace!” shouted Chantelle. Jace chuckled and tossed her gently into the air. The child erupted in helpless giggles as he caught her with large, sure hands. “Again, Mister Jace! Please.”

  He tossed her up and down a few more times before shifting her to his hip with the ease of a man used to kids. And right then, a piece of Evie’s heart broke off and landed at his feet. He was just so damn adorable, this tough, inked shifter with a tiny girl in a pink dress clinging to him.

  Evie gulped and looked away. Jace pulled her close with his free arm and introduced Kyler and her to Kari, before handing Chantelle back to her mom so they could continue on their way.

  Evie slid an arm around Jace’s waist while the other two walked ahead. He slanted her a sheepish look. “Those are my tenants. Chantelle’s dad isn’t in the picture, so I help out where I can.”

  Evie pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You’re my hero.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “No,” she said. “It’s something. Trust me, I know.”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “I’d like to pound some sense into your dad.”

  She shook her head. “It wouldn’t do any good. Some men just aren’t meant to be fathers.”

  “I can’t understand it. Cubs are so fucking precious.”

  “That’s what I think.” She shot a glance at him. Their eyes met, and she looked away, afraid what he would see in her eyes.

  He’s not for you.

  Suha had warned Evie away from him in the nicest possible way, pulling her aside to murmur, “Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

  Evie had drawn back, affronted. “I won’t.”

  “Not intentionally, no.” Suha’s dark eyes were knowing and a little sad. “But Jace—he’s a dominant male, and so you might think he can’t be hurt. But he can. You’re special to him, Evie. The Darktime left him different. He was always a serious kid, but losing his sister—that ripped him to pieces. He was so dark for a while there that I thought we might lose him. An earth fada can will himself to death. The quartz—we use it to heal ourselves, but it can be used the opposite way. To turn on ourselves.”

  Evie had swallowed.

  “But he came out of it. It helped when they found his niece.”

  “He told me about her.”

  “He did?” Suha’s delicate black brows had winged upward. “That proves my point right there. He feels something for you. Just—don’t hurt him.”

  Evie had glanced at where Jace was arguing basketball with Kyler and Beau. “I wouldn�
��t,” she’d said.

  Suha had moved a shoulder. “If you don’t want him, say so now. Don’t let it go any further.”

  Now Evie pressed a hand to her breastbone. Because maybe she would hurt him. But if she did, it wasn’t going to be one-sided.

  Jace glanced at her. “Everything okay?”

  She rose on her toes and kissed him. “Yeah.”

  The rest of the day passed in a happy blur. They walked with Jace and Beau to the park and around Druid Lake, and then headed back to the den, where they sprawled out on the grass drinking iced tea under a big maple. Beau remained standing, one arm propped on the wooden fence that circled the backyard, relaxed but alert, his deep brown eyes continually scanning the area. The men got into a conversation about motorcycles while Evie pillowed her head on her arms and gazed up at the rustling green leaves. It had been a long time since she’d just laid on the grass without anything to do.

  Jace traced a finger down her jaw to the hollow of her throat. “Sleepy?”

  “Mm.”

  He nuzzled her ear. “Take a nap if you want. I’ll be keeping you up tonight.”

  Her lips curved. “Is that a promise?”

  The answer was a sexy growl that made her abdomen tug.

  Sam woke up and wandered outside, yawning. Jace sat up and murmured something to him, and he nodded. Before she knew it, the tiger had his head deep in her car’s engine, and when she objected that she couldn’t pay, he’d shrugged a big shoulder.

  “I’m not asking for money. I need something to do, and I’m sure we have some spare parts in the shed.”

  “But—”

  “Let him,” Jace said. “The man’s a genius with engines, and he really does like to play with them.”

  “All right,” she said, “but I’m making dinner tonight.”

  “Works for me,” was Sam’s reply. “I’ll trade a few spark plugs for food anytime.”

  Kyler joined him, and the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon with their heads under the hood, joined an hour or so later by Horace. There was a lot of shaking of heads and muttering, but by the end of the day Sam literally had the engine purring.