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“Bryce! No!” Paul’s eyes were wide with shock as he scrabbled beneath the man, trying to hold him and wiggle from beneath him at the same time. I siezed the injured man’s shoulder, tugged and rolled him onto his back, then bit back a curse as I saw his blood-soaked shirt and the dark red pool on the concrete. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he fought for breath. Paul scrabbled up and to his knees, horror filling his face at the sight.
“Eilahn, a little help here!” I called over my shoulder only to find the syraza already beside me. She dropped into a crouch and set the gun down—a .45 I absently noted—then ripped the bloody shirt open and covered the terrible exit wound in his right center chest with both hands. I shifted away to give her room and pulled out my phone to call nine-one-one. There wasn’t much else I could do for the guy at this point. A .45, I thought in disgust. For a security guard. Compensating much?
My eyes fell on the ID he’d dropped. Bryce Thatcher. StarFire Security. That was a top-notch personal security company with an excellent reputation. Was he Paul’s bodyguard? He’d sure as hell acted like one. There’d been zero hesitation to leap and take a bullet that would have no doubt killed Paul. I winced. And probably had killed Thatcher.
Bryce Thatcher. How did I know that name?
An electric jolt of memory zapped through me. The list of names in Tracy’s red journal. I jerked my eyes up to the young man. “His name is Bryce Thatcher?”
Eyes glazed in shock, he managed to focus on me and give a jerky nod.
“He does not have long,” Eilahn murmured with a slight nod to me that indicated she remembered Thatcher’s name from the list. Shit. This guy was named in a summoner’s journal and happened to be in this warehouse at this particular time. Finally a possible lead, and that dumbfuck security guard had to go and blow a hole in him.
Eilahn shifted her attention to Paul. “Give me your shirt.”
“Wh-what?” He gave her a baffled look, too rattled to understand her intent. She growled low in her throat as she stripped off her own shirt, packed the wound with it and held pressure.
“We need Mzatal,” I said.
Eilahn’s mouth tightened. “Yes, I cannot hold him long.” I didn’t need othersight to see her weave the potency strands for healing but I could tell it was rudimentary compared to a lord’s. “Three minutes,” she added. “Perhaps a minute more.”
Even EMS can’t help him at this point, I thought with grim certainty. I hit Zack’s number on speed dial, then stood and moved a short distance away, far enough to be out of earshot of Paul and the dazed guard.
Thatcher coughed up blood and frantically struggled to breathe. Paul groped for his hand, clung to it. “No—no! You can’t die.”
I turned away from the scene as Zack answered.
“Garner here.”
“Zack, I need Mzatal where I am—Tracy Gordon’s warehouse—as soon as possible,” I said, voice low and urgent. “There’s a man here who might hold some answers to the Mraztur’s plans, and he’s been shot. He’s close to death.”
I expected an I’ll get right on it or something like that. Instead there was only silence on the line. Dread curdled in my gut. While Eilahn’s ability to arcanely travel was drastically compromised on Earth, Zack was demahnk and didn’t have the same limitations. I knew he had the ability to get Mzatal here before Thatcher died. Why hesitate?
“Please,” I said. “I know you can do this. It’s important.” I glanced back at the trio. Eilahn’s face remained clenched in a rictus of concentration. Paul clutched at Thatcher’s hand as if holding him back from the jaws of death.
My dismay rose as Zack remained silent. “If he agrees,” he finally said, voice oddly taut.
If he agrees? My annoyance flared at his hesitation. “If Mzatal doesn’t agree, let me talk to him. This is important!”
“If he doesn’t agree, I’ll call back,” he replied, then disconnected.
I stared at the phone as shock and anger battled it out for precedence in my skull then jammed the phone into my pocket and returned to crouch beside Eilahn. “Zack was hesitant about coming,” I said in a low voice, “but he said he’d bring Mzatal if he agreed.” And if Mzatal didn’t agree, there would be some words between us. Oh, hell yeah.
She gave me a tight nod, then narrowed her eyes and focused on Thatcher. “You must stay here,” Eilahn told him. “Do not go. Stay here.”
“Yes, god, Bryce,” Paul wept openly. “You can’t leave me. Please. I . . . I can’t take it there without you!”
Thatcher’s hand spasmed in his. Blood bubbled in his mouth as his eyes sought Paul’s. The attachment between the two was clear. Though Paul looked to be around twenty, he radiated an innocence that made me think of him as younger. Thatcher might have been Paul’s bodyguard, but there was something deeper as well.
“Please. Please,” Paul continued, voice choked with barely restrained sobs. “I can’t stay there without you. I can’t do it. I’ll die. You’re all I have. You have to live!”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guard stagger to his feet, then stumble toward the door. I briefly entertained the notion of chasing him down and securing him, then discarded it. I doubted he was going to run and tell anyone he’d just shot a guy. If charges needed to be pressed later, I could track him down through the security company.
Thatcher’s hand clenched on the kid’s again, then his head lolled to the side. Dead, I thought in dismay, then saw that blood still bubbled at his mouth. No. Not dead. Yet.
A ripple of arcane touched me. I turned to see Zack and Mzatal by the front entrance.
I stood as Mzatal strode toward us. “Boss, he’s in bad shape. Can you save him?”
