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As soon as the process completed, Fluffy smiled and jumped to his feet. Happy to be alive and strong again, he raced from one end of the hall to the other, then back. How adorable. He had the zoomies.
Fresh relief inundated Viola. She returned her attention to the shifter, who observed her curiously from his spot on the floor.
“Thank you,” he croaked. The adoration in his dark, puppy-dog eyes had intensified.
She must be amazing. Look at how much she’d helped him.
Tendrils of strength unfurled in her limbs, and they were far stronger than the first. Her tremors ceased. How wondrous! No one had ever thanked her for this act. Most often, she’d received exclamations of regret and demands for a reversal.
“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. “Your kindness has brought me great joy.” If only she could reward him. Mark him to ensure he remained protected in the spirit realm. The cuff ruined everything. Including her outfit: the white dress she’d washed in the bathroom sink. “One day, I’ll find your spirit. I’ll help you in some way. I vow it.”
She might forget the vow for a few centuries, but she would remember eventually.
With his last breath, the shifter rasped, “You have helped me already, goddess. I go to find my girl.” His gaze deadened, staring at nothing as his head lolled to the side.
Viola blinked away tears of…guilt? Relief? Whatever. Emotions had to wait. “Flash Mommy home,” she said to Fluffy. Something he’d done on more than one occasion.
Her baby leaped into her arms. Seconds passed, but nothing happened. Her pet grew agitated, and she frowned.
“The cuff,” she grated. “It must prevent anyone but Brochan from flashing me.” Well, she needed to deal with her beast, anyway. Now, at least, she had the strength to do so.
Forcing a bright smile for her pet’s peace of mind, she set Fluffy on his feet and stood. “Return the body to the bar, my darling. Then fetch Mommy’s go-bag.” A duffel filled with weapons, weapons and more weapons. Brochan had confiscated her jewelry during one of his visits.
While he was gone, she could change and—gag—clean a room or two. Fluffy deserved to stay in a luxurious palace, not some musty hovel. When Brochan returned, she might offer the beast a final chance to work with her to eradicate the Forsaken who threatened her wellbeing. If he refused a second time… She might do to him what she’d done to the shifter, a poisonous Forsaken or not.
Viola regarded the metal wrist cuff. Desperate measures would be taken.
* * * *
Brochan drew in a breath and braced for impact. He held an unconscious Sent One against his chest. A male he’d never met. A soldier he’d plucked from the skies only minutes ago.
He hovered a mile from the veil, his wings gliding up and down. Farrow remained at his side. She, too, held an unconscious Sent One.
She nodded at Brochan. “I’m ready.”
“On three,” he told her. “One. Two. Now!” He flapped his wings with more vigor and jetted forward. A living arrow.
Farrow kept pace beside him. They sped toward the veil, faster and faster, building momentum, expecting to bypass the invisible barrier with the Sent Ones they held.
Closer…
Mere seconds away…
Impact! Brochan ricocheted back, his bones breaking, and his organs reduced to pulp. The Sent One soared through, skidding over the lush green grass. Farrow’s Sent One rolled beside him.
Pain registered as blood dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. By sheer will alone, he caught himself in the sky. Farrow labored to his side, a wing twisted at an odd angle. Gashes littered her face.
Guilt pricked him. “Another failure,” he said, swiping his tongue over his teeth. He stiffened as a sense of rising trepidation rippled across the bond he shared with his brother.
McCadden! “My brother needs me.” He flashed to the bottom floor of the Downfall, not bothering with niceties outside. The club’s walls materialized around him, revealing a raging battle in every direction. A horde of Forsaken had invaded.
Midian had kept his promise and now fought to acquire McCadden, in order to bargain for Viola.
The scarred Xerxes stood with the blond Thane and the bronze Bjorn, forming a circle. The trio killed Forsaken savagely, using swords of fire to strike. Like machines, they maimed their foes in a continuous stream, and they did it all while staying in place. Their golden wings spread wide to encompass the tattooed, pink haired McCadden and several females, creating an impenetrable shield the enemy couldn’t breach.
Farrow appeared at Brochan’s side, taking stock in seconds.
Merciless, Brochan threw himself into the fray, raking his claws and brand-new wing joints over anyone within reach. Soldiers dropped, sometimes three at a time, piling around him. He latched onto his next victim and ripped off the male’s head. Icy black blood spurted, spraying him.
