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I led him into Red's room, stopping halfway in, waving at the bed. "She's been like this since she came up."
"No," Josephine corrected, making Marceaus look at her fully for the first time. "No," she started again, clearing her throat awkwardly. "At first, she was screaming. Non-stop screaming."
"She's still fucking screaming," Marceaus said, jaw ticking.
"What do you mean she's screaming?" I asked, confused.
He didn't answer, though. Instead, he made his way toward the bed, kneeling on the end, whipping off the blankets, and grabbing Red with rough hands, yanking her around.
"Hey," Josephine snapped, trying to charge forward, getting held in place by my wing.
I admired her desire to take care of her patient, but she was a fool if she thought she could stop this man.
Hell, I would be a fool to think I could.
Besides, I didn't think he was trying to hurt her.
He was checking her out, looking at her wounds, making grumbling noises to himself as he inspected every inch of her feet, her legs, thighs, stomach, chest, arms.
Finally, he flipped her onto her stomach, grabbing her hair as he leaned forward.
"What is he doing?" Josephine demanded.
But I had no answers for her.
All I knew was that Marceaus seemed to know what he was doing, was looking for something.
I knew it the second he found it, too.
Because he snarled.
If I hadn't been watching so closely, I would have missed him reaching into his back pocket. I would have missed the knife in his hand.
As it was, I was too slow to say or do anything before he was leaning over Red's body, slicing into her scalp.
"No!" Josephine shrieked, again trying to surge forward.
But it was over.
It was already over.
He'd carved a piece of skin off of her skull.
Then tossed it onto the bed, turning, and making his way back toward the door with bloodied hands.
"Where the fuck are you going?" I raged at him.
"Got shit to handle," he returned in his growling voice.
Like that, he was gone, and Josephine was pulling against my wing, trying to get to Red.
I let her go.
Because I was going in that direction as well.
But while she jumped on the bed to inspect the wound, my focus wasn't on Red herself, but the part of her that Marceaus had cut off.
And there it was.
What we had all missed all along.
The source of her screaming.
Both audible and silent, it seemed.
"What is it?" Josephine demanded, pressing the bedsheet to Red's bleeding wound.
It likely wouldn't bleed for long, though.
Because Marceaus had found the reason she hadn't healed in the first place.
"It's a cross tattoo," I told her, my mouth barely able to get the words out, my jaw was so tight.
"What?"
"A cross," I told her again. "We're evil," I reminded her.
"Oh! Oh," she said, brows furrowing. "Right. Holy things burn. But then... then how did that happen? How could demons do that to her?"
"They couldn't have," I told her. "Don't fucking ask me how, but humans did this. In hell."
Which meant shit had gotten bad down there.
If humans were able to act up.
If they were able to overpower one of us.
"I don't understand," Josephine said.
"Neither do I," I admitted. "Neither do I. But I do know one thing."
"What's that?"
"Red is going to be up and rearing to go in a couple hours at most."
"No."
"Yes, absolutely."
"That's not possible. She's too far gone."
As it turned out, we were both right.
Red woke up just about two hours after her former mentor and his men cleared out.
She'd looked around at us, confused for a moment. Then she'd taken all the information we'd tossed at her while she lounged in bed, her hand pressing absentmindedly at her tattooed spot, the flesh healed back over.
"Wait. Marcaeaus was here?" she asked. "And he's gone?"
That was when Josephine became right.
She woke up.
Then she got dressed.
And she was far, far gone.
Chasing after a man she clearly had a thing or two to say to.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Josephine asked after all the crazy died down, after the men and I had discussed it, had called the others to explain, to tell them to head home.
"Talk about what?" I asked as we sat on the couch in the living room.
"About this," she said, reaching out to stroke her fingers over my wing. The one that was still wrapped protectively around her. "This means you, ah..."
"Claimed you," I supplied, finding the words a little clumsier on my tongue than I would have expected since I'd had hours to realize the same thing, to come to terms with it.
"Yes, Claimed me," she agreed, shooting an uncertain look my way, then focusing on my wing instead.
"It means what I explained to you. I've chosen you. You will always be all the one for me. I will protect you at all costs for the rest of your life. Whether you choose me back or not," I added, thinking of Minos and his unknown woman. The one who wanted nothing to do with him. The one who turned his once lively self into a miserable sack.
