Page 96 of Hell’s Weapon

Heaving myself to my feet, she takes my hand and doesn’t let go as we go into the treatment room. The smell of disinfectant and other cleaning products assaults my senses as we enter. The room looks tidy, clean, and almost serene.

Garrick is tidying away some supplies in one corner, the entire back wall an array of cupboards, shelves and a countertop with a sink in the middle.

To our left is a hospital bed, and wrapped in the clean white sheets is a very pale Milo. His normally alabaster skin is almost translucent. But aside from that, and the drip currently attached by a needle in his hand, there is nothing to suggest the devastating injury he’s sustained.

“He won’t regain consciousness for a while yet. He’s had a large dose of sedatives,” Garrick informs us.

Tacita moves silently across to the bed and reaches for his hand, the one without the needle in it. I watch as her fingers close gently around his wrist, feeling for his pulse. Her face and posture visibly change as she finds his heartbeat. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, she lays a kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” I tell her. “I said no more apologies.”

Walking to Milo’s other side, I gently link his fingers with mine, careful not to knock the catheter. They’re a little colder than usual so I close my other hand over the top to warm them up. “Sweetheart, you’re not supposed to scare us like this.”

Garrick moves behind me, coming round the room to stand behind Tacita. He places his hand gently to her hip and she instantly leans back into him, seeking stability. Their bond is clear to see, new as it is. I suppose the same could be said for the rest of us.

“The blade cut through his diaphragm. It punctured his left lung but luckily missed his heart. Dom managed to repair everything but it’ll take a few days for him to heal. His lung collapsed because of the blood filling it.”

“A few days?” I say, surprised. “Shouldn’t it take weeks?”

Garrick gives me a condescending grin. “You’re not on the human plane anymore, Dom used his gifts as a healer to speed things along. It’s not an instant fix but it will help his cells regenerate more quickly than normal.”

“There’s truly magic here? Do you all have powers?”

“Don’t you listen at all to the things we’ve been trying to teach you?” That surly voice is back in his tone.

“Sometimes,” I say petulantly.

Tacita’s lips pull up on one side. “We don’t have active magic. Except for Hades and a few select others. But Dom has trained as a healer, he can pull on the magic that flows in this realm to make potions and medicines. It is a great gift that only a few who train actually manage to master. Other than the healers, it is only the witches who can harness magic.”

Other pieces of information thrown my way tonight light up in my brain with her inclusion of herself in her statement.

“You’re one of them?” I ask. “That other guard said you had wings.”

Fear flashes across her face, but not at my new knowledge. She spins out of Garrick's hold to face him. “How many saw me? Do they all know?”

Garrick shakes his head. “I don’t think many saw, but even so I don’t think they’ll make the leap to your alter ego, except for Tarron. He might as he knows we slept together. Well, that I slept with… the other you.” He glances my way. “And then you were screaming my name with Dom’s tonight. I have him wiping all CCTV and threatening any of the officers who dare to speak of your wings.”

Her shoulders slump and she rests a hip against Milo’s bed. She turns back to his expressionless face. “I didn’t think.”

“I will ensure your identity stays a secret. And if Tarron does put it together, he won’t say anything. I trust him.”

“What are you?” I demand, not overly gently. I thought we were done with secrets.

“I’m sorry, Wyatt.” She walks round the bed to stand in front of me. “I wanted to tell you, was going to tell you tonight, until it all went to shit.”

“Tell me,” I plead.

Instead of speaking, my girlfriend shifts in front of my eyes. Giant black wings erupt from her back, horns sprout from her head, arching up in a red and black ombre and finally a tail curls around her leg, the end resting on the ground at her feet.

I have to catch my breath as I take her in. She’s breathtaking, even tired, and covered in dirt and blood. I can’t stop scanning her new form, a power emanating from her that calls to me on a deep level, like a siren song.

“Please, say something.” Her voice cuts through my admiration.

“You’re a demon?” I ask, after clearing my throat.

“Yes.”

“You were never human?”