He’s right. Freaking out during a crisis makes me worse than useless, and I refuse to be a liability. “Are you hiding any more of those healing potions?” I ask.
Luca’s lips press into a flat line. “I gave you the only one.”
My wings flutter. I want to lop my foot off for betraying me.
With trembling fingers, I unbutton the top of Malach’s shirt. The skin beneath is covered in angry bruising. Gods, he looks like someone ran him over with a truck! I take a closer look and gasp as I recognize the familiar patterns.
“These are radiant magic blasts,” I say, focusing on the facts to keep myself calm. It’s hard to tell unless you know what to watch for, but the bruising is in a loose spiral pattern. “Only anothernish thatshacould have done this damage.”
“Will it kill him?” Luca runs his finger over a purple mark around Malach’s bruised collarbone.
My heart stutters, and I shake my head. “He’s too strong to die from this. It was meant to make him vulnerable...”
Luca’s pupils stretch to horizontal slits. He jumps to his feet and slams the door, locking all three deadbolts. “He’s out cold. If they were trying to soften him up, they might come here next.”
Hot, angry resolve settles low in my gut.
Silently, I pick Malach up and carry him to the couch. Brushing the hair back from his forehead, I press a kiss to his cheek, aiming for the only spot not splattered with blood. Next, I grab my sword and sit on the arm of the couch, facing the door.
This is my fault, but I’m going to fix it.
“Let them fucking come.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Enclave memo (internal)
We will strike the desert base in mass during the auction. Send everyone. This is our only window.
CIPRIAN
Sheena kicks her chair over. It clatters against the polished floor of the venue, drawing gasps and murmurs from hundreds of auction attendees. I grip my thighs under the table, forcing myself not to drag her somewhere the evil, yellow-eyed monster can’t see her anymore.
“Your obsession is showing, Lysander,” Sheena shouts. “If it’s me you want, come and get me!”Fuck. No. That’s not the plan.
I told Celine and Luca we wouldn’t be on the front lines of this mess, but Lysander is using the women he abducted to force Sheena’s hand. The second he spotted her, tucked at the table with Alistair and me, he’s only cared about one thing: getting his hands on her. This is going to get ugly?—
The lights flicker out.
People start screaming and shoving. Gods. It’s turning into a riot.
Someone wishes for light, and Sheena grants it, bathing the crowded venue in an artificial glow. A table of burly shifters—from somewhere in eastern Europe, if their accents are real—starts barking orders. They want to grab the abducted women and run off.
I can’t let that stand. I’m enclave... I’ve got to protect them.
I push to my feet, but Alistair grabs my upper arm. “Don’t even think about it,” he says.
“I can’t stand aside,” I snarl, yanking my arm free.
But I’m too late—Sheena is already on it. Granting another wish, she sends the tables and chairs after the auction guests, using the furniture to herd them into a giant metal cage created by her purple magic.
I run around our table and high-five her, using the opportunity to check on her too. A drop of sweat rolls down from her hairline, but her eyes are bright and confident.
“Can you two handle this?” Sheena asks, pointing to the rapidly filling cage as she looks at Alistair and me.
“Duh.” I wink at her. “Be careful, Sheena.” I head for the cage, stuffed full of dozens of power-hungry supernaturals, and my blood heats. They deserve to be punished. They deserve to feel as helpless as the women they came here to buy.
I yank them all into a collective nightmare and show them dozens of cat-sized rats scurrying into the cage with them. Pink eyes, fleshy yeast-colored tails, and long yellow teeth. The rats are hungry, and the auction attendees are dinner.Bon appétit, motherfuckers.
