Silver forced herself to run from the death scene, to leave it behind her as she sought Hawk. She couldn’t think about what she’d just done. Not now. If Hawk wasn’t dead, he needed her.
Somehow she knew he had to be alive. Wouldn’t she have felt it if he’d died? They had a connection. Something special.
Tears flowed down her face as she ran across the street. She stumbled. Fell. Cried out in frustration and pain. With the quivering feeling in her scraped-up and bruised body, she had a hard time keeping her balance.
When she finally reached the place where they’d been attacked, her heart nearly stopped. Hawk was in human form, his wings tucked away, but pinned beneath the huge body of a Fomorii.
Then she saw Hawk was moving. Thrashing against the demon. Trying to force the enormous Fomorii off his body. He took his dagger and twisted it in the Fomorii’s throat again and again.
She gathered more magic, but inside she still felt the mingled exultation and horror of her kill.
Drawing deeply from her power, her own power and only hers this time, her fingertips sizzled. Blue light shot from her hands and struck one side of the Fomorii. She pushed with her power, so hard she grew dizzy from it. The demon’s body moved a tiny bit. She clenched her jaws and pushed harder. The Fomorii moved a few inches.
Silver stumbled forward.
Fresh fury rippled through her. A cry tore from her as she shoved at her magic. The Fomorii tumbled off Hawk, its body thumping in the cold, still evening. The dagger still in its throat, blood pouring onto the grass. It thrashed and tried to get up.
Pain exploded in her head and she stumbled toward Hawk. She dropped to her knees. A sob escaped her at the sight of him.
His sword, he needed his sword. She crawled to it, wrapped her fingers around the cold hilt. The weapon was so heavy she could barely wield it as she got to her feet and brought it to him.
With the movements of an old man, Hawk had pushed himself to a sitting position. He was covered in blood and his right arm hung uselessly at his side. He took the sword from her and pushed himself to his feet.
The demon yanked the dagger from its healing neck. Hawk raised the sword with his left hand and sliced down, severing the demon’s head.
Silver shuddered at the sight of the Fomorii crumbling into dirt before her eyes. Satisfaction and horror sent her head reeling.
“There are more of the demons.” Hawk’s voice came out in a wheeze as he fell to one knee. “Somewhere in the park.”
“I know.” Silver dropped to her own knees and flung her arms around him. Blood smeared her cheek from his, and more blood soaked her blouse. “I can sense them.”
But she couldn’t move. She cried, shudders wracking her body as he held her with his good arm. They rocked back and forth, clinging to each other, both unable to let go.
* * *
Silver wasn’t sure how she and Hawk made it back to Moon Song after their fight with the Fomorii. Did Hawk drive the VW or did she? Who carried who in through the back door of the shop?
Ridiculous. She couldn’t have carried Hawk. But she thought maybe they’d supported each other.
It didn’t matter. The moment they stumbled inside, someone screamed. Cassia? Mackenzie? The next thing Silver knew she was torn away from Hawk, surrounded by her two friends. Her vision blurred so badly she could barely see.
“No,” she mumbled, not wanting to be separated from Hawk. She needed him.
What was it that made her so sick? So unable to function?
You killed, Silver. You killed.
Horror rocked her and her knees wouldn’t hold her anymore. Only Cassia and Mackenzie kept her from falling to the floor.
Keir’s and Sher’s voices sounded far-off and distant.
“What in the name of the Underworld have you done?” Keir was saying, and Sher said, “Shut up, you godsforsaken nakherder,” then Hawk’s, “I’ll kill the bastard now and be done with it.”
“Get Hawk upstairs,” Cassia ordered in a needle-sharp tone. “Mackenzie and I will help Silver.”
Silver blinked, tried to focus, but gave up as she was led upstairs, stumbling, dragging. Behind her she heard curses, boot steps, and Hawk’s harsh breathing.
They reached the hallway, then made it through her apartment door. It was a monumental effort for Silver, even supported to either side by her friends.
All along, Mackenzie murmured soothing words, like “You’ll be all right, honey,” and Cassia muttered about “Going off on foolhardy errands alone.”
Silver almost cried when they finally made it to her bed. Blessed softness.
Blood caked her clothing, had dried on her face, in her hair. The rotten-fish odor of the Fomorii clung to her, clogged her nose. Where the Fomorii claws had dug into her leg it burned like fire.
The weight on the bed shifted, then she heard Hawk’s groan and Sher’s and Keir’s voices. Relief tugged at her to know that they’d put her and Hawk together in her bed. Having him beside her made her feel safer, somehow, and like she could protect him, too. They could be there for each other.
“Not Silver’s blood.” Mackenzie produced a warm washcloth and wiped it across Silver’s eyes, her face. “It’s black. And it smells foul.”
Cassia leaned over Silver, her eyes focused on the other side of the bed, away from Silver. “Not Hawk’s, either.”
“Fomorii,” came Sher’s voice from somewhere in the distance. “It’s their stench you smell.”
Mackenzie wiped Silver’s cheeks and hair. The warm cloth soothed her. When Mackenzie finished, she began smoothing something cool and pleasant over Silver’s face and the burning began to ease. Marigold and comfrey, by the scent of it.
At the same time, someone worked on stripping off her ruined clothing. Silver was so dizzy, everything seemed so surreal, that she felt like it all was happening to someone else.
She felt herself slipping, barely holding on to consciousness by a fine thread. She turned her head toward Hawk and saw him receiving the same treatment from Keir and Sher.
His gaze met hers. His face was scratched and bloody, his hair matted, and his right arm lay broken across his chest. She reached out to him and he extended his good arm.
He clasped hers in his warm grip.
Silver managed a smile for him. Her lids fluttered. She no longer had the strength to keep them open.
She slipped away into the darkness.
Hawk watched Silver’s body relax, felt her grip loosen in his as she passed out. Her lips parted and she was obviously deep under in just moments.
Hawk tried to ignore the screaming pain in his broken arm. His godsdamn sword arm. He couldn’t fight with a sword as well with his left hand, although he handled a dagger fairly well. That didn’t stop his anger or the feeling of uselessness that clenched his gut.
The Fomorii claws—gods, but the iron had burned like nothing he had ever felt before. Those same claws had snapped his arm, the iron working its way into his bones. No doubt it would hinder the mending of his limb.
Sher came into focus as she cut his shirt away. “Damned fool,” she grumbled. “You should have taken us with you. What were you thinking when you slipped out without telling us where you were going?”
Of course she was right. Memories of the Fomorii’s capture of Silver made the ache in his gut feel like boulders slamming against one another.
She’d had to save herself.
The thought tasted bitter on his tongue. He should have been the one to save her.
Keir and Sher stripped him of his clothing while Mackenzie and Cassia cared for Silver. Hawk refused to allow himself sleep. He deserved to feel every stabbing ache, every screaming pain, after what he’d allowed Silver to go through.
Sher gasped as she wiped blood from his arm and saw the deep black gouges. “These wounds. No common Fomorii claw made them.” She glanced at Keir. “The iron that tipped the beast’s claws, it is burning into his bloodstream.”
Cassia shoved her wa
y between Keir and Sher. She held a bottle with blue potion swirling within it. “This will stop the iron, draw it back to his arm so that we can leach it out.”
“How?” Sher set aside the bloodied cloth she’d been using. “Even the D’Danann do not know how to stop iron poisoning.”
Cassia did not bother to respond. She uncorked the round bottle, tilted it, and the oily blue fluid spilled onto the claw marks.
Immediately pain doubled on pain, and Hawk clenched both fists and ground his teeth.
The next sensation he felt was a magnetic pull, as if the potion were drawing the pain that had been spreading through his body, and instead bringing it back to rest solely in his wounds. He looked to his arm and saw the cuts were bubbling, the blue potion battling with the iron.
Keir grunted. “The wounds are closing.”
Hawk felt the pain lessen some, and he relaxed a little.
“Remnants of iron will still hinder his healing.” Cassia re-corked the bottle, and Hawk studied her intense turquoise eyes. “But he will heal.”
She turned and slipped between the two D’Danann and vanished from Hawk’s line of vision.
He no longer had the slightest of doubts. Cassia was definitely not of this world.
“You should rest now,” Mackenzie said as she moved a chair close to the bedside.
“I am fine.” Hawk gritted his teeth. “Just set the damnable thing.”
“Stubborn ass,” Sher was saying as she sponge-bathed him, cleaning away more of the Fomorii stench. “Get some sleep.”
Keir kept grumbling, saying things like “Fool,” “Arrogant bastard,” and “Our ruin.”
Before today Hawk would have slugged Keir, but at that moment he had to agree. He’d failed. He’d put Silver and the mission in danger. And now, what good was he with his mangled arm?
He set his jaw. He’d damn well get the job done with or without his right arm.
Hawk barely retained consciousness as he and Silver were bathed, their wounds tended.
When the bedding was changed, Hawk insisted on standing without assistance. He gritted his teeth at the sight of Keir lifting a naked Silver from the bed while the bedding was changed.
Ridding the room of the filthy clothes, blankets, and sheets helped to alleviate the stench of the Fomorii. He braced his broken arm against his chest. It was numb now, the lack of feeling extending up into his shoulder. But at least the burn from the iron was lessened by far.
After Hawk and Silver were settled back into the bed, Cassia propped her hands on her hips. “We’ll have to set that arm now.”
Hawk winced.
Sher came into view, and ruffled her hair in distraction. “If we had some spirits, that would lessen the pain.”
“We don’t.” Mackenzie pulled the chair closer to the bed and massaged oil into Hawk’s neck and shoulders with a firm, experienced touch. Lavender by the scent of it. “To relax you,” she said.
Great. Now he’d smell like a woman.
“No pain relievers,” he forced out through clenched teeth.
“Stubborn ass,” Sher said again.
Despite his declaration, Cassia and Keir thrust tablets into Hawk’s mouth, along with a good dose of tea that tasted of chamomile and peppermint “The tablets are arnica and willow bark,” Cassia said. “You need it for the shock and pain.”
Hawk protested and Mackenzie shoved a smooth stick crosswise between his teeth. It was about five inches long and an inch thick. “Bite down on this. It’s willow for healing,” she said, but looked concerned.
Before he’d had a chance to process what they were about to do, Cassia and Keir moved his arm in a rotating, wrenching motion. Bone crunched and gave sickening pops as it set into place.
Hawk shouted from behind the stick in his mouth—from surprise and the incredible, shrieking pain tearing through his body.
Darkness hit him hard and fast.
* * *
Silver woke to the smells of witch hazel and tea tree oil, and her body lightly burning from the remnants of scrapes and scratches, especially where the Fomorii claws had raked her leg. She vaguely remembered Cassia pouring oily blue fluid on it, and it had smelled of citrus.
She felt clean, despite what they’d been through. Before she opened her eyes she realized she’d been given a sponge bath, the bedding had been changed, a soft robe and softer blanket wrapped around her.
Even her eyes ached as she opened them and her neck hurt. But when she turned onto her side to face Hawk, Silver’s body felt surprisingly good, considering the punishment she had taken.
Hawk didn’t say anything when their gazes met, just looked at her with something like frustration and longing in his eyes.
She managed a smile, but he didn’t return it.
“I am sorry,” he said, his voice low and gruff.
She frowned. “For what?”
“It is my fault you were injured.” Anger darkened his eyes. “I shouldn’t have exposed you.”
“What’s this macho bullshit? It’s not all about you, you know.” Silver’s frown deepened. “We all make our own choices. I wanted to be with you. As a matter of fact, I should have been smart enough to realize that I was exposing us to danger.”
This time he managed a half-smile. “It’s not all about you.”
She couldn’t help her own little smile. Her gaze dropped to his chest. The black sling around his arm and the homemade cast peeking through reminded her of how she’d almost lost him.
Her heart clenched. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
He shrugged one shoulder, then flinched.
A sharp burst of pain in her head came on suddenly. She winced and closed her eyes.
Hawk took her hand, his warmth enveloping her. “Silver? Are you all right?”
Before she could answer, Cassia bustled into the room. “About time you woke up.”
Silver didn’t bother to respond to Hawk as Cassia gave her willow bark tablets for the headache. The witch massaged Silver’s temples, neck, and shoulders with lavender oil, giving almost instant relief to the pain.
Hawk kept a grip on her hand, never letting her go, but saying nothing more.
27
With a hiss of displeasure, Junga clenched her human hands into fists until the nails dug into flesh. Blood dripped down her palms and onto the ballroom floor.
“They failed.” She repeated what the messenger had just told her. “Za and Hur failed to retrieve the witch.”
The messenger bowed, and in her fury, Junga had the urge to rip out his throat with one swipe of her Fomorii claws.
“Don’t kill the messenger,” came Elizabeth’s voice in her mind. Junga had the insane desire to laugh. These humans had the damnedest aphorisms.
“Change to Fomorii.” Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “Guard the witches.”
Making sure her warriors were in their natural forms would protect them from any of the Fomorii who might need a good meal once summoned. The demons had also captured more stray humans for that—anyone they found alone and vulnerable.
The messenger bowed again. He shifted into his gangling orange form and retreated, a definite hurry to his lope as he crossed the ballroom and joined the guard standing before the witches.
Junga held her stance for a moment, trying to ignore the sick feeling at the pit of her belly that hit her at the realization that Za was dead.
No. He was simply another Fomorii. His death meant nothing to her.
But the ache in her chest was so great she almost stumbled. For the first time in her life she felt an incredible sadness weigh her down at the loss of one of her comrades.
With her fingertips, she wiped wetness that had formed at one eye. What was wrong with her?
It had to be this damnable human body.
Straightening her shoulders and raising her chin, she forced her attention back to the preparations for the summoning.
They now had twelve warlocks, counting the new converts and the Balorite pr
iest. The Fomorii had not been able to convince one more to participate, despite threats and beatings, and Darkwolf’s seductive skills.
Junga intended to find Silver Ashcroft and hold her as hostage to force the equally powerful Victor and Moondust Ashcroft to join the summoning. She had tried threatening to kill one of them if the other did not aid her, but both said they would rather die.
She growled low in her throat. She was certain things would be different if she captured Silver. By threatening to kill either of her parents, she would ensure the aid of at least Silver. Yes, by threatening her parents, no doubt Silver would turn.
Darkwolf had informed her that the witch had started down the path already.
One little shove.
Good. Very good.
Raising her head, Junga moved closer to the circle with the now black-robed witches, who would soon become warlocks as they gave themselves to the dark.
Off to the side, the Ashcrofts were propped against each other behind the magical shield, both bruised from their beatings, but both refusing to participate.
Junga’s lips curled, baring her teeth.
She clenched her hands again, until she almost cried out from the pain. She turned her gaze toward the twenty or so humans the Fomorii had quietly hunted down and brought back to the hotel.
The humans huddled at the center of the ballroom where they were guarded by several demons. Some of the people were quiet, fear glazing their eyes. Others cried, and there were those who even shouted to be freed.
The pathetic beings would be food for the summoned Fomorii, to avoid the deaths of any of the warlocks.
She gathered herself and brought her attention to the warlock priest. With the membrane between Underworld and this world so thick, it would be difficult to bring anything but a small number of Fomorii to this world with a summoning. But the Balorite priest was certain it was possible, if the number of cooperating witches and warlocks was enough.
Darkwolf started the summoning at a new location in the ballroom. Again he took his crystal-tipped black wand and burned an eye into the floor. Again he called for a human sacrifice that covered the floor with blood. Again he drew a circle around the witches.
The Forbidden Page 29
