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“Give me your hand.” His warm gaze held me, and I obeyed. He pulled me to a sitting position and motioned for me to raise my arms. Off came the sweater, and then the bra. I sat there, naked, assessing the roadmap of bruises lining my arms and legs. There were also plenty of them on my torso, and I knew Camille had fared just as badly.
“How’s your hand?” he reached for my bandaged hand.
I stared at it. “I forgot about it.” And so I had. The pain of the wound seemed minute compared to everything that had happened.
Shade cautiously removed the bandage. The wound was sore and red, but it had not spread and seemed better than when Sharah had bandaged it earlier. He irrigated the wound, cautiously scrubbing the skin around it, then medicated it and fastened it with a new dressing. A plastic bag over the top, snugly fitted to my wrist, would ensure that it didn’t get wet.
“Come on pussycat. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He led me into the bathroom, and even though I didn’t care for baths, I welcomed the sight of the steaming tub of bubbles. My aching muscles also didn’t like the thought of standing up in the shower, and so I eased myself into the tub, leaning back, trying to ignore the sensation of motion that always made me queasy when water lapped around my body.
A moment later, and Shade was scrubbing my back, still in silence. I closed my eyes, but the rolling clouds, the flashing lightning, lit up my memory and I began to panic. I jerked to a sitting position, trying to breathe.
“Love, love . . . are you all right? Delilah?” Shade had hold of my hands.
“The storm . . . the storm.” And then, I was crying, weeping, as I wrapped my arms around my shins and rested my head on my knees. “It was horrible. It was so . . .” I lifted my head slowly, staring straight ahead. “If this is what war is like, how do men live through weeks and months and years of it? How do you live in that much fear for so long without going crazy?”
Shade stroked my hair, then my face. “You don’t. Every war takes a toll. Even tonight, even what you and Camille went through . . . I’m sorry, my sweet, but it will be with you forever. I doubt you’ll ever be free of that memory. That’s what war does to people, whether you escape near the beginning, or you see utter destruction for years on end. There’s nothing to be done but learn to live with it. To learn to face the fear and not run.”
As he took the shampoo and rubbed it in my hair, holding me gently as I lay back for him to lather and rinse, I thought about all the people we knew who had been to war. How, even though we were on the verge of demonic war and had been fighting demons for what seemed like forever, we had seen nothing yet.
And Shadow Wing’s armies would be worse than Telazhar. The death that we’d seen rain down from the sky today was a pale shadow to what the Demon Lord could do if he broke through. We’d need to be at the top of our game. We’d need to push aside the apprehension and make certain that our worst fears didn’t happen.
By the time I was clean, the numbness was beginning to seep out of my soul. The hot water, Shade’s gentle hands . . . the feeling of being home, helped to cushion the pain. My body ached. I was hungry and tired but ready to face whatever came.
“I guess . . . food next. And then, we see how Sharah is doing. And then . . . to sleep?” I looked at my lover.
Shade held out the towel. “It will get worse, Delilah. It will get far worse before it gets better. But we have an advantage. We have something to lose. And you always fight harder when you’ve got someone to protect, or something to lose.”
And with that, I toweled off, brushed my hair, dressed in my sweats, and we headed down to the kitchen to regroup, take stock, and figure out what the hell we were going to do after that.
• • •
Menolly was anxiously waiting to launch herself at me when I entered the room. In an uncharacteristic move, she slammed into me for a hug, then—to my startlement—leaned up to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. It was over before I could say a word, but that she had been able to bring herself to show physical affection to someone other than a lover spoke volumes.
Camille was already at the table, tucked into a silk robe, and she cradled a cup of tea between her hands. A plate of cookies in front of her remained untouched, but she had a hamburger on her plate, and it looked like Morio had gotten her to eat a few bites.
The kitchen felt eerily devoid of life. Without Iris around, and without Smoky, Trillian, and Roz, the noise level was at a bearable level and everything felt too calm.
Hanna put a burger in front of me, and a big glass of milk. “Get your sister to eat,” she said. “She needs her dinner.”
I toyed with my food, not that hungry either. But we both needed to get something in us, so I motioned to Camille. “She’s right.” As I lifted my hamburger to my lips, I paused and looked at Menolly. “Do you know everything? Well . . . you can’t know what we went through, but you know Queen Asteria is dead?”
Menolly nodded. “Yeah, I know she’s gone.” After a moment, she continued. “Nerissa is down at the station with Chase. Sharah went into labor as she came out of the Ionyc Sea. Smoky did the best he could but it’s not the same as going through a portal. It really hit her hard.”
“Is the baby okay?” I sat up, alarmed.
“We don’t know, but the fetal heartbeat is strong. I last talked to them about twenty minutes ago and she’s dilated six centimeters so it’s going to be a while yet. She’s narrow-
hipped and Mallen said that may be an issue, but so far, so good. Nerissa is keeping Chase occupied.”
Relieved that at least one thing was going right, I nodded. “After everything we’ve experienced, I have to say I was scared to even ask.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like where you were.” Menolly played with a bottle of blood, taking care to wipe her mouth as she drank her dinner. She was fastidious, and often complained about vampires with messy habits.
Camille let out a sharp breath. “We’re all at the ‘can’t imagine’ stage, I think. We saw things last night that I never want to see again, but I have the horrible feeling that we haven’t seen the last. If that’s what war is like, then we have to fucking make sure they don’t break through the portals.” After a moment, she looked at me. “Shade’s heard, but the others . . .” She looked at Menolly. “You may know some of what went down, but unless you were there, you really can’t imagine.”
So, once again, we told our story. I was tired of telling it, the images were too fresh in my mind. And I could see, by Camille’s expression, they were haunting her as well.
Menolly’s jaw dropped as we told her about the storm, and what it had been like. Vanzir’s face remained expressionless but he leaned forward, pushing his beer out of the way. Lately, he’d gotten into drinking microbrews, and while the alcohol didn’t affect him, he liked the taste.
