15
Healing Light Dispels The Shadows (Grayson)
It’s terrible watching Gideon and Leo lead Jay from Ansel’s room. Partly because Grayson doesn’t want any of them out of his sight—but also because they’re going to Nix and Luca, and Grayson has chosen to stay behind.
The Broken Bond Syndrome is worse than it has ever been, and while he hasn’t been officially admitted to the hospital, Finn looks about ten seconds away from hauling him down the hall and into a bed. Added to the general feeling like shit, he can’t think about what his mates will face in freeing Luca and Nix without shouting in frustration.
But it’s really no decision at all. He can’t leave—because Grayson is acting as a tether for Ansel’s soul.
When Grayson had taken his first look at the unconscious child, he’d known right away that something was eating away at his soul. He’s only a child.
Ansel’s bright soul had been all but eclipsed by a pulsating, oily mass; its black, slick fingers were still plucking away bits of Ansel’s luminescent life force. Someone is feeding on this boy, and by the looks of what remains, they’ve been doing so for a long time.
The wordmiasmacame to mind, whispered into his head as if he’d known it all along but was just now remembering. There hadn’t been much time for him to poke and prod at it, but he’d managed to pinch a tiny bit of the remaining bright light and pin it down with his own rose-colored light. Only time and The Goddess know if it’ll be enough until they can get someone magical—who knows what they’re doing—in here.
Without being asked, Rowan had shifted back into his wolf form. A beautiful, iridescent shimmer had settled over his red fur. He noses at Winnie’s fingertips as they trail over the side of the small bed she shares with her brother—fresh tears dried upon her cheeks, her lemon scent rife with grief and sadness.
She comes awake with a small shriek, baring her teeth. When she sees Rowan, she sheathes her claws.
“Ro! Where did you…Oh. Finn, isn’t it?”
“And this is Grayson. Ro scented you in the elevator and insisted we come here. This must be Ansel.” Finn gestures to the unconscious child.
“Yes, I came back from work and it was worse. They…they say he won’t be here long.”
Grayson could see why, too. There’s just the smallest glimmer of life left in the boy’s soul. It’s as if someone is drawing on it with voracious intent. Reaching out again, Grayson draws on The Plain in tiny increments; any active, offensive intent to use his magic causes the miasma to avoid direct contact but also speeds up its activity. Good to know.
He feels his knees hit the floor, and then Finn is lifting him into the chair closest to the bed.
“Shit. Is he okay?” Winnie asks, and he feels her small hands place a child-sized cup of water in his hand.
The cup has tiny fish swimming on the outside.
“He’s really not. Can you keep an eye on him, Rowan? I’m going to see if I can get him some fluids.”
Finn places a small, kidney-shaped basin in his hand, so he’ll have somewhere to puke up the water he just drank. Yay.
But Rowan puts his nose up under his shirt at his side, right up against his skin.
He feels a little bit better after the contact, and he’ll take whatever comfort he can get against the fire ants racing along his skin and the never-ending flashes of heat.
Once Finn has left on his medical mission, Winnie sighs.
“He’s a doctor, too? Le sigh. Guess I’ll keep track of the two of you, because you look almost as bad as I feel.”
That must be pretty bad.
“Your brother is in trouble,” he manages, swallowing back his nausea. He needs to call Nimue and Ignatius.
“He’s really sick, for sure. Has been since before my dad lost his ever-loving mind and then died robbing a freaking bank. Fucker.”
Something about that tickles Grayson’s memory…why does that sound familiar?
“I’m sorry. He wasn’t himself before he died?”
“Nope. Dad was broken when my mom died. They were…fated…so it was really bad. We lost our house, and then he lost the car dealership, too.”
She runs her fingers through her brother’s bangs and pushes the hair back from his forehead, adjusting the blanket over his frail torso.
