by Ann Aguirre
Belatedly, Gavriel noticed all the medical supplies scattered around: gauze and tape and used IV tubing. He had two bandages on his arm, one for the knife wound, another unknown puncture, tender but not severe.
“You gave me your blood,” he said. Not a question.
“So help me, if you say a word about purity,” she started.
He kissed her.
Or he tried, rather, but he was weak, and his aim was off. His mouth glanced off her sharp cheekbone and grazed a path to her ear. Still, that was enough to quiet her.
“Many thanks. I can’t believe you cared enough to do that for me,” he whispered.
“It’s not a declaration of love,” she snapped. “I’d have done the same for anyone I partnered up with.”
“And how many partners have you had in the last ten years?” he asked.
“Shut up.”
“I think you mean to say ‘you’re welcome’.” Suddenly, despite his overall exhaustion and intermittent throbs of pain, Gavriel felt as if his whole body was filled with sunlight. He had an inexplicable, illogical urge to tease her. “You know, among the Eldritch, it’s said that if you save someone’s life, you must take responsibility for them until they repay the favor. Are you prepared for that, Magda Versai?”
She stared at him, eyes wide. Her mouth opened but for long moments, no sound came out. Then she took a step back. “What?”
“It was a joke.”
“Are you really Gavriel d’Alana or did some spirit take possession of this body?” she demanded.
He smiled, and it didn’t feel strange or unnatural at all. Perhaps there was some merit in the question because he did feel…changed. By her gift of blood? By the near-death experience? Whatever the reason, he’d awakened feeling lighter, less burdened by things he couldn’t change.
Rather than try to explain, he changed the subject. “Get the prescription pad and a pen. I’ll write down the name of the pain medication that works best for me.”
She tilted her head, visibly confused, and that look was rather…adorable. Oh gods, the emotional disease was worsening. Gavriel feared there was no cure.
“Okay.” She did as he asked, then took the sheet. “I’ll see if I can find it. Have some more Vitamil, then I’ll massage your arm again. Doctor’s orders.”
Magda bolted before he could ask ‘what doctor’, but she was back in a flash, offering a battered box. “Found it half-beneath the shelves. I think somebody must’ve dropped it during the riots that drove the refugees out.”
“This is the one.” He popped open the carton, unsealed the bottle, then downed a couple of pills, washing them down with the energy drink she’d mentioned.
Foul stuff.
“Finish it,” she ordered.
For once in his life, Gavriel obeyed someone besides Princess Thalia without a word of protest. “You mentioned a doctor. Did you find one here?”
She shook her head, as she started massaging his arm. “I called our pride physician. She helped me save you, using an experimental treatment that worked in Hallowell.”
“So that’s how you knew what to do. I truly do owe you my life.”
“Anyone would have—”
“Don’t do that,” he cut in. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to accept gratitude graciously?”
“I don’t do anything graciously,” she mumbled.
Recognizing her deep discomfort, he decided to let it go. For now. “What’s the status in Ancalen?”
“Not sure. I didn’t have a chance to clean up any resistance and I haven’t spoken to any of the citizens. Last night I was a bit busy.”
“Understood. If you’re willing to help me a little, I should be able to move. We can take stock together.”
She seemed relieved to have a concrete goal again, leaning down so he could grab onto her shoulder. It took a few tries for Gavriel to stand, but once he got upright, his legs were sound enough. The room swam a little and he closed his eyes until everything steadied. When he opened them Magda’s face was too close, giving him the perfect opportunity to gaze into her eyes.
She jerked back. “You… you’re not passing out, are you?”
“Have a little faith in your medical treatment. I’m doing well for someone who was on the verge of death last night.” He moved past her with slow but steady steps. “Let’s see how Ancalen looks this morning.”
Outside, the fires had mostly burned down. Even without intervention, the buildings that were too close together had been consumed, but the fires couldn’t spread farther and some of the stone structures were charred but salvageable.
“We didn’t manage that fire brigade,” she said with a sigh.
“One can only do what’s possible. Last night you made a choice and I’m thankful that you chose me.” Before, he’d thought he had nothing left to live for, but in what he’d believed would be his last moment, he realized he wasn’t quite ready to quit.
In fact, he’d never lived at all.
They didn’t find any sign of the Dead-Eyes. With their leader eliminated, they must have scattered. They’d be attacking travelers at random now, plaguing the forests and the roads, but that threat was less than an organized horde of unquenchable violence. House Manwaring had gambled and lost.
Mags mumbled something, cleared her throat, and added, “Anyway, enough about that. I did what I had to. Today we need to reassure the civilians and destroy any drugs we find in town.”
“Agreed. Let’s head for the town hall, where they’d taken shelter.”
By the time they got there, however, the doors were open, and people were slowly, tentatively creeping out. Not many, Gavriel counted forty-eight, a low number of survivors for the whole town. So many died here, and for no reason at all.
The terrified Eldritch townsfolk whispered amongst themselves before finally nudging a venerable male out as the spokesman. Gavriel could tell his great age in the thinning of his hair and the faint lines on his face. For an Eldritch to show visible signs of aging, he must be ancient indeed. The old man managed a bow.
“We heard the battle last night but didn’t dare hope it was anyone who meant us well,” he said. “Lord Gilbraith has already ignored so many of our messages.”
“Some of your people made it to freedom in Talfayen lands,” Gavriel said. “We came in response to their request.”
A gasp and a murmur of shock ran through the crowd, then the old man said, “You mean the lady sent aid, though we’re not even her people?”
“The princess believes that all Eldritch are her people,” Gavriel said firmly. Even if he didn’t idolize Thalia as he once had, he still trusted that to be true. She was the best person to lead the Eldritch away from the old ways, into tolerance and prosperity. She would halt damaging, outdated customs and perhaps their people could thrive once more.
“What does she want from us?” a young Eldritch asked, fearful.
“Just remember she helped you when there was no gain in it for her,” he replied.
20.
Mags could have barfed.
Even now, Gavriel was serving as Thalia’s mouthpiece and it made her want to punch through a wall. She must have revealed some sign of her scorn because suddenly, the townsfolk were staring at her wide-eyed and a few had backed off like she might attack them. Now she was waiting for the ‘beast’ talk to begin; that would round out the shit storm the last day had been.
Not enough food or sleep and now this—just fucking perfect. I’m tired of this crap.
“This is Magda Versai,” Gavriel said. “My partner and the goodwill ambassador from the Animari. She’s here to help.”
That pronouncement sent whispers of shock through the group—and Mags herself. She mouthed ‘goodwill ambassador’ at him while he gestured her to silence. That was such a crock of crap that her anger faded to amusement. If Ash Valley had chosen someone for diplomatic work, she’d be the second to last choice, coming in only ahead of Slay, whose temper was even worse than hers.
>
“A thousand thanks.” The feeble Eldritch tried to dip a bow to her but his knees popped, and Mags caught him with a quickness that impressed all the onlookers. “We had no idea that the Animari cared so much about us,” he continued in a humble tone. “I only wish we had more to give you in appreciation than these poor words.”
“Eh, I don’t need anything,” she started, then a sudden thought struck her. “You don’t happen to know about another Animari passing through? He would’ve been with a party of Eldritch.” A long shot, but she pulled up a picture of Slay and showed it around.
The Eldritch all shook their heads, until the phone came to a young girl. She stared at it long and hard, then she glanced at her father as if for permission to speak and received a slight nod. “I…think I saw him. Some travelers came to our store just before the Dead-Eyes attacked, and he might have been in the Rover outside.”
“Are you sure?” Mags demanded.
“Not completely. It was getting dark by then and I was rushing to fill their order.”
“Did they say anything while they were waiting?” Gavriel asked.
“Uhm. Something about Golgerra?”
Mags closed her eyes. Gavriel was right; I did choose the path that would make it impossible for me to catch up to Slay. In a Rover, the party they’d been tracking was probably already underground by now and she still didn’t know if he was a collaborator or a hostage. As if he could read her mind, Gavriel rested his fingers on her shoulder, a butterfly touch but it settled her down.
Can’t scare these nice folks. They’ve been through enough.
With effort, she calmed her expression and managed a smile. “Thank you. That was very helpful.”
“It was?” The Eldritch girl didn’t seem too sure, but she smiled back anyway.
The old man took a step toward Gavriel, reaching out for a handshake. “You truly don’t want anything from us? Not that we have aught left to give, but—”
“Princess Thalia will send aid workers and supplies when she can. Until then, try your best to rebuild.”
“We shall.”
“If you’ll excuse us, we need to investigate a little more, then we must be on our way,” Gavriel added.
Feeling like a jackass, Mags bowed to the group, then they bowed back, and she returned the courtesy. Since she didn’t know etiquette from a hole in the ground, that might have gone on all day if Gavriel hadn’t intervened. She’d never been so grateful to be dragged away.
“That’s enough, my lady ambassador.”
Oh gods, he was teasing her again. This day was a twisted nightmare that simply wouldn’t end. If she had to hear him sing Thalia’s praises one more time, she might bite him. No, dammit, he’d enjoy that, and for once she didn’t want him to.
How am I supposed to punish a man who gets off on pain?
Muttering to herself, she increased her pace. “We need to check out the church. It was the only building under guard.”
“Good idea. Lead the way.”
She cut a sharp look over one shoulder. “Is everything okay? You hate following people, especially me.”
He smiled at her, and the look was so warm and inviting, even the teasing crinkle of his eyes, that her heart quickened. Oh no you don’t. Stop that.
And then he said, “That’s true, but I do love to watch you leave.”
“You mean that you want to be rid of me or…did you just compliment my ass?” She nearly tripped on a crack in the pavement because she was staring in shock.
“Take it as you will,” he said, still smiling.
“We have to get you to a doctor. There is something deeply wrong with your brain.” She shook her head in disbelief, wishing that her pulse would stop reacting to his weirdness. “Maybe a Seer. An exorcist even.”
“Stop prattling and pay attention. There could still be hostiles about.” Now that sounded like the Gavriel she knew and…
Nope. No reasonable way to finish that sentence. Mags was wickedly good at closing off roads she couldn’t travel down, so she hurried into the church, only to realize that Gavriel wasn’t quite keeping up. Gritting her teeth, she offered her arm so he could lean on her, and it was totally fine when he linked his with hers as if they were lovers out for a stroll, not work partners who sometimes had sex.
“If you hid drugs in a church, where would you put them?” she asked.
“Below the nave.”
“You mean the basement? Just say that.”
“Cranky. I didn’t let you rest enough last night.”
Dammit, why did everything he said today sound flirtatious and suggestive? Maybe he really was possessed. With effort, she ignored the provocation and started looking for the stairs down.
They were on the opposite side as the ones that led to the tower, and the door was locked. Mags was about to break it down when Gavriel said, “Allow me.” He fiddled with the lock until it clicked open, then he put away some small tools that had been concealed in an inner pocket. “Part of my training. You should probably go first, just in case.”
To anyone else, that might sound like he didn’t care about her safety, but for Mags, it registered as an endorsement of her skills. Since Gavriel didn’t trust anyone, it mattered that he believed she could handle whatever might be waiting down in the dark.
The minute she opened the door, she smelled blood. And Slay. Holy shit, his scent was all over this fucking stairwell. She flicked the torch from her phone on, not much juice left, just to make sure the walls leading down weren’t smeared with blood.
So far, so good.
Until now, she hadn’t been sure about the girl’s testimony, but now Mags was positive. Slay definitely passed through Ancalen.
“What’s the matter?” Gavriel asked, touching her shoulder.
“Slay.” Not much of an explanation, but clearly he got it when he didn’t ask for clarification. “Let’s keep moving.”
Maybe he never made it out of here. Her heart was banging like an angry neighbor on a shared wall as she shined the light around, picking a path down the steps, which were old and cracked in spots, yielding under her solid weight. Eventually, she hit bottom, a packed earth floor, and the smell of blood intensified.
“Someone may have died here,” Gavriel said softly. “Was it…?”
There was no body. That much, she could be grateful for, and the soil had soaked up so much blood that she couldn’t be sure. It took a lot to kill an Animari.
“There’s a chance he made it out alive.” She whispered the words like a prayer, hopeful yet aching.
Sorry, mate. I chose to help strangers instead of you.
“He was here, though?” Gavriel asked.
“Yeah. Held for several days, by the smell of the room. And they hurt him a lot.”
“Then he’s a captive, most likely. If he was a valued ally, they would treat him better and you wouldn’t have found those bloody bandages along the trail, either.”
She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. “Does it make me a terrible person?”
“What?”
“The fact that I’m glad.”
There were emotional devils in Gavriel’s head, and he listened to them. They whispered that he should put his arms around Magda, and he was mildly surprised when she didn’t shove him away. Instead, she leaned on him, just a bit, enough that he could feel her trust, her warmth, her weight, and revel in the sweetness of that trifecta.
“Mags…” He tried out of that diminutive form of her name for the first time, relishing it too, as if it was an endearment known only to him, instead of the name she offered everyone. “Of course not. I understand why you’d ask, but it means you haven’t lost your friend.”
She trembled a little in his arms. “Yeah, but it also means he’s suffering and I’m happy about it. That’s—”
“Enough,” he interrupted. “You’ve learned some important facts today, possibly enough to save him. Take satisfaction in that and don’t regret what can’t be changed. Someon
e extremely wise taught me that.”
“That person sounds like an ass,” she muttered.
“I thought so at first, but the more I listened to her lectures, the more sense she made.”
“You got brainwashed.”
“If you keep arguing with me, I may have to kiss you.”
“What?”
Her face jerked up, and though she was trying not to cry, a single tear worked loose and slid down her cheek. Gavriel leaned forward and took it with his mouth. Salt. Sorrow. Not things he wanted to share with her, but he would. Because it was her.
“See what you made me do.”
“I thought you didn’t like kissing,” she whispered. “That it doesn’t—”
“Do anything for me? Not in that way, but… because of you, I realized that’s all right. I can enjoy it for its own sake, and it doesn’t matter that my wires don’t connect like everyone else’s.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand and touched his mouth to hers. This was novel to him, delicate and new, and it wasn’t thrilling like being taken. Her lips didn’t make him hard, but they made him want to be closer to her, to feel more, and to hold her. Mags deepened the kiss, hands delving into his hair, and then down to his shoulders, his arms, and finally his waist. She pulled him closer, and his heart ached with the wonder of it. Not sex, he wasn’t built that way, but it was sweet and good.
Another tear slipped down her cheek and he caught that one with his mouth too. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked.
“Kissing is its own reward. It’s not a dead-end road.” That wasn’t an answer, and he knew it.
Gavriel didn’t have one, except that her anguish over Slay might do him in faster than some unidentified toxin. He’d liberated Ancalen because she asked. With that look on her face, he might well storm Golgerra, even if she didn’t.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” She stepped away and scrubbed a hand through her hair, making it stand on end.
It was visibly longer than it had been when they first started traveling together. Kitten fluff, he thought, knowing she’d be horrified by the comparison.
