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Rafe gets off on dramatic architecture.
Tall slate-gray walls engraved with intricate details stretch up the length of the three-story mansion to a spiked black roof, and dark foliage from the woods creeps its way up the sides, stopping just below the first set of blackened windows. Black marble steps lead to the entryway—a large set of wooden doors outlined in gleaming black metal.
I’ve seen structures like this in the human world, but they can hardly compare.
“If he lets her live, then what?” Elio’s sharp voice grips my attention, and I glance in his direction. “Are you just going to send her home? What if she doesn’t survive the portal this time?”
His questions grate on my nerves, but I know he’s right. I haven’t thought about what I’ll do if Rafe spares her life.
The only thing I can think about right now is keeping her alive.
Elio helped me tie a strip of fabric around her arm to staunch the bleeding, but she’s lost a considerable amount of blood. Her breaths are shallow, but at least she’s breathing.
I just need her to hang on a little longer so I can properly tend to her wounds.
“I’ll figure it out,” I say, brushing him off.
Hopefully.
“Take her in through the back,” Elio says, dropping his voice. “I doubt Rafe will appreciate us tracking dirt and blood through the foyer.”
He’s not wrong.
We should at least get cleaned up before presenting him with our half-dead human. Increase our odds as much as possible.
“Come on. Before he figures out we’re back.” I turn to follow the tree line, Elio on my heels.
At the back of the mansion, there’s a hidden door, mostly obscured by twisted vines, which was originally built as an emergency escape if the place was ever under attack. Nowadays, the employees—monsters like Elio and me who’ve signed part, or all, of our lives away to Rafe in exchange for money, power, and protection—use it to get in and out of the mansion.
“Where are you taking her?” Elio wrenches the door open for me and stands aside to let me in.
“My room. Where the fuck else can I put her?” I step inside and lead the way down the hall, thankful that the plush rug running the length of the floor muffles my footsteps.
He doesn’t say anything else, so I assume he doesn’t have a better idea.
Go figure.
My room is on the second floor, down the hall from Elio’s. We climb the stairs as quietly as possible, even though there’s very little chance of running into Rafe in this half of the mansion. He’s many things, but sociable isn’t one of them.
I pause outside my room and wait impatiently while Elio skirts around me to open the door before carrying Devyn over the threshold. Unlike the rest of the mansion, which is a blend of sleek blacks and grays and reds, my room is adorned in navy blue and silver. Nearly everything from the rich blue comforter draped over the bed to the abstract artwork on the walls came from Earth—all snuck through the portal a little at a time over the years.
Devyn moans softly as I lay her on the bed, and my eyes dart to her face, searching for any sign of consciousness.
Nothing.
I knew it was a long shot. Hell, I’d be surprised if she woke up in the next hour or two.
Undeterred, I set to work unbandaging her arm. The wound needs to be cleaned and re-dressed if she has any chance of avoiding infection. I have no idea how her human immune system will react to the filth in this realm, and I’m starting to second-guess my decision to save her. What if all I did was prolong the inevitable? What if I doomed her to a death much worse than being mauled by a Malev?
I shake the taunting thoughts from my mind.
“I’m going to check Xia’s room for clothes,” Elio says from the doorway.
“Check for any first-aid supplies,” I suggest, even though I know it’s a long shot. Monsters hardly need medical supplies considering how fast we heal, so it’s not likely that anyone has anything stashed in their room, but I plead silently with any deity listening that I’m wrong.
He disappears from the corner of my eye as I strip the fabric away from Devyn’s arm. It’s stuck to her skin with dry blood, and I wince as I tug it away, worried that I’m hurting her somehow. The reality of the situation crashes onto my shoulders, and I realize with a shaky breath just how fragile she is beneath my touch.
Fragile.
