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Acidic guilt added fuel to my cosmic pleas. I’d been so wrapped up in the mission and my own drama I never considered the risk Zen and Brooks were taking helping us. But now Zen’s shop was destroyed and Brooks’s life hung in the balance. I clenched my fist against the dark stew of emotions simmering in my gut.
Inevitably, my thoughts drifted back to another fae— my old roommate Vinca. Her funeral had been the first I ever attended. Not because I hadn’t known anyone else who’d died. But because all the others had died by my hand. Vinca was also the first female friend I’d ever had. And she’d paid for that friendship with her life.
In the time that had passed since her death, I’d reached a stalemate with my guilt. My logical side maintained that Vinca knew the dangers when she’d insisted she be included in the raid on the vineyard where my first showdown with Lavinia had occurred. But my conscience constantly reminded me that if I’d only been smarter, faster, better, I could have prevented her death.
Just as earlier tonight, I could have stayed with Brooks instead of leaving him alone and vulnerable while I pursued my own goals. Unlike Vinca, he hadn’t been fully briefed about the real dangers we all faced. Also, while Vinca died fighting in a battle she’d adopted as her own, Brooks had been ambushed and punished to send me a message. Hadn’t Lavinia promised as much? That those around me would suffer until I surrendered?
I glanced over at Giguhl, whose head hung in his claws. When he’d stormed into the courtyard shortly after I left Adam and Zen to work on Brooks, he’d gone ballistic with worry. It took both Georgia and me to restrain him from going to Brooks. Once he’d calmed down enough to collapse where he sat now, Georgia left to go find Mac. The were hadn’t answered her cell when we tried to call her, which obviously was a cause for alarm. Georgia promised to get in touch once she had news.
On the other side of Zen’s building, Bourbon Street’s Friday-night pre-Halloween party raged on. Tinny notes from brass instruments meshed with the pounding rhythmic basslines. Laughter and shouts punctuated the music.
Part of me longed to prowl through that street like the predator I was raised to be. The scent of fresh human blood was strong even where I sat, so removed from the action. But another part of me, one I didn’t quite recognize, longed to just observe the humans. To try and understand how they could forget their mortality long enough to dance in the streets.
Brooks was mortal, too. All fae were. That was the rub. They could heal themselves, and some fae species naturally lived longer than others. But when it came down to it, there was only so much damage magic could heal.
The rusty hinges on the back door squeaked to announce Adam’s arrival. His stoic expression gave nothing away. I stood slowly, wiped my damp palms on my jeans, and waited for him to share his news. Giguhl came to join us, his face tight with worry.
Worry lines creased Adam’s face, aging him. His white T-shirt was spattered with blood, like some sort of morbid Jackson Pollock painting. “The good news is he’s still alive,” he began.
I blew out a relieved breath. “Thank the gods.”
He held up a hand. “The bad is he might not make it through the night. He’s got extensive internal bleeding, and one of his lungs collapsed.”
Blood drained from my head in a rush. I bit my lip with my fangs, hoping the physical pain would override the emotions enough to help me stay focused.
“We have to take him to the hospital,” Giguhl said.
Adam shook his head sadly. “Not an option. Brooks’s fae heritage might present itself in bloodwork. And even if it doesn’t, they’ll ask too many questions about how he got hurt. Maybe bring in the cops.”
“How can you say that?” Giguhl demanded. “He needs help!”
“I know. But there’s another option.”
“Magic,” I said.
Adam nodded. “But not what you think. My healing powers are too rudimentary for this sort of work.”
“Voodoo?” Giguhl offered.
“Nope. Voodoo remedies are a lot like homeopathy. For big healing magic, you need a mage.”
I blinked. “But you said—”
“I said I couldn’t do it. But Aunt Rhea can.” He jerked a thumb toward the building. “Just called Orpheus before I came out. Rhea’s in Chicago, trying to convince the mages there to join the others at the Queen’s court. It took some fast talking, but I convinced him to send her here.”
“How soon?” I asked.
Just then the air shifted. A window on the second floor lit up with a sudden flash. Without another word, the three of us hauled ass inside.
Adam’s silver-haired aunt wasted no time in getting down to business. No warm greetings or demands for explanations. By the time we made our way into the room, she’d already taken the situation in hand.
“I need dried sage, fresh sprigs of lavender, a bag of salt— sea salt, not iodized— and a pair of blue and purple candles— pillars, not tapers.”
Zen nodded. “Got it.”
“Adam, tell me what you’ve tried so far.”
While he relayed the herbs and spells they’d tried, I stood beside Giguhl, holding his claw.
A groan came from the table as Brooks drifted back into consciousness.
Rhea stopped midsentence and bent over him. She placed a hand on his forehead and whispered something too low for me to hear. He settled immediately.
Turning back to Adam, she said, “We have to hurry. You and Sabina will assist.”
My mouth fell open. “What? I—”
“None of that. Get over here and help us heal your friend.”
One thing about Rhea, she may have looked like an earth mother, but when it came to giving orders she’d have given Patton a run for his money. I released Giguhl’s claw with a wan smile and went to stand next to Adam.
Zen rushed back in with her arms full. “I found everything you needed.”
With an economy of movements, Rhea made quick work of placing the candles at the four corners of the table.
“I’ll be in the hall if you need me,” Zen said quietly. Obviously, she didn’t want to be in the way. Rhea didn’t argue. Instead, she shot her friend a distracted but appreciative glance as she sprinkled Brooks’s body with lavender. “Take the demon with you, please.”
Giguhl obviously heard her, but instead of leaving, he crossed his arms and glared at us with a mulish expression.
“Giguhl, it’s okay,” I said. “We’ll call you back in as soon as it’s done.”
