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“I need to get a better look at the wound.” He wasn’t optimistic, but keeping his mind engaged, his hands working, was the only thing keeping his heart from breaking and the vampire from rampaging. “Apply pressure on the compress,” he told her. “I’m going to lift him, check for an exit wound, and if there isn’t one, then I need you to slide into my place.” He carefully lifted Adam’s neck and head and swiped an arm under him, feeling for a tear in the fabric, or viscous blood, or an output of heat. Finding nothing, he scooted the rest of the way out from behind Adam, and Abigail moved into position, cradling his shoulders and head.
He stepped over Robin, who didn’t growl or flinch, a testament to how worried he was for his brother-in-law. Kneeling between Adam’s legs, Icarus checked him over for any other injuries. The movement was enough to rouse Adam, his blue-gray eyes fluttering open. Hazy with pain, they bounced around, unfocused, before finally landing on Icarus. “Hey, baby.” The gurgling roughness of his voice didn’t help Icarus’s rising panic.
“Don’t—” His voice cracked, forcing him to start over, betraying his attempt to play stern. “Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me right now.”
“Michael.” So soft yet as sharp as any stake to Icarus’s heart. “I love you.”
Anger flared, Icarus grasping at any emotion other than the soul-crushing despair nipping at his heels. “No!” he snapped. “You do not get to say that to me as you bleed out on a fucking piece of rock in the middle of the fucking Bay. You do not get to quit on me at all. I belong to you too.” He moved with every bit of speed magic had gifted him, peeking under the compress and probing the wound. “Fuck, the bullet’s still in there.” And there was no way he was getting it out without doing more damage. He grabbed the torn shirt sleeves, packed the wound as best he could, then piled the rest of the compress back on and exerted pressure.
Adam grunted, wincing as he lifted a hand to rest on Robin’s head. “You need to go.” He ran his fingers through the fur between Robin’s perked ears. “Get everyone out of here before I flame out.”
Icarus understood those words now and hated the inevitably staring him down, the fire that would steal the man he loved and Icarus along with him because in no scenario was Icarus leaving him alone to die. But did he have to? “Is there a way...” He cleared his throat. “Like the kid?”
Adam shook his head. “No time.” He petted Robin again. “Go, please.”
Robin shuffled closer and laid his chin on Adam’s shoulder. His woeful, high-pitched whine was the straw that broke the vampire’s back. Leaving one hand on the wound, Icarus turned his face away, giving the brothers a moment and giving himself a moment to choke back the threatening sobs.
“I’ll tell her,” Adam said to Robin. “I promise.”
Robin barked, and Icarus righted his gaze. It was too soon; the sight was no less painful as Robin rose on all fours, leaned over Adam, and licked his face. A final goodbye. Icarus closed his eyes, fighting the wretched misery tearing apart his insides, the scream of hopelessness rumbling up his throat that escaped on a gasp when the coyote’s tongue swiped his cheek, licking away the tears he’d shed for their friend. Icarus opened his eyes, meeting the same grief and despair in glowing gold ones. But he also met a promise. “You’ll protect her?” Icarus asked.
Robin nodded his big rusty-gold head.
“Thank you.”
He backed away slowly, Jenn and Abigail on his heels. Icarus reclaimed his spot behind Adam, cradling his body as he continued to press the soaked pile of clothes to his chest. Adam turned into him, face buried in his neck, the rising heat of his breath carving open that Adam-sized hole in Icarus’s chest again. Adam’s words, as usual, tore it wider. “You should go too.”
“Not a chance,” Icarus managed through his tears. “I’ve never seen a phoenix before.”
“You knew?”
He lifted a hand and cupped Adam’s cheek, thumb skating his temple, the corner of his eye. “It burned here when we made love.” His voice wobbled. “Like it’s burning now.”
“We burn together.”
Icarus leaned over and brushed his lips against Adam’s. “I love you too. Thank you for believing in me.”
“Thank you for giving me a second chance.”
He pressed his forehead against Adam’s and braced for the final, searing burst of heat, expecting it to come from the man in his arms. He didn’t expect it to come from their sides. Magic popped and sizzled, green mist coalescing into a dome that formed over them, and inside it with them, Atlas, Mary, and Cormac.
Icarus clasped his sister’s outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?” He then cut a glare at Atlas. “Why are you with him?”
She laid her other hand atop Icarus’s on Adam’s chest. “I need you to give him back to me.”
He swung his gaze back at her. “What?”
“He either flames out or you give him back to me.”
“What are you saying?”
“You are the balance Nature wants,” Atlas interjected, explaining. “Life”—he nodded at Adam’s prone form in his arms, then at Icarus—“and death. Phoenix and vampire.That’swhy I sent you to him.Youhave to be the one that kills him.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’re the one who saves him.”
“You want me to bite him? To feed?” They nodded, and Icarus’s head spun, but not nearly as fast as his heart tumbled. How did the pieces fit together? Were they a sacrifice or something more? Was this hope or a fucking curse? Did any of it matter beyond the love and life of the man in his arms?
“We can’t lose another phoenix,” she said. “His is the power we need in the coming war.”
