by Ciara Graves
“Nothing’s here,” Damian said from across the apartment. “Mercy?”
“I know. I searched before you got here.” I kicked aside a bit of ceiling that had fallen in and glared around my place. The Feds had done a nice job of getting the rest of my scant belongings out of here. I’d have to get them all back somehow, then see if I could bunk with Gigi for a while. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Half my shit’s at Rafael’s place.” How could I forget I stayed with him the last couple of days? I’d have to go there to get it, then figure out my next move.
“And? You’re staying with him for the time being.”
“I can’t. Not anymore. I’ll bunk with someone else.”
“What’s going on with you and the Fed? Thought you two were you know, getting along,” he said with a growl as he flipped over some bricks near the wall.
“We’re not.” I stalked around my place, debating on what else I even wanted from what the Feds had taken.
My clothes and weapons were safe at Rafael’s. Nothing else mattered. Not like I was a sentimental person. I never had any pictures from my childhood. No trinkets. Everything was destroyed the night we were attacked. I spun around slowly taking in the empty space and was hit with the stark realization of how sad my life must seem to someone looking in. Someone like Rafael. No wonder he worried about me so damned much.
I shrugged. “Don’t think there’s anything here.”
“I do.”
I expected to see him holding another claw or piece of wing, but he was looking at where my nightstand had been. He bent down and shoved more debris out of the way. When he straightened, there was a single photograph in his hands. He smiled sadly, holding it out to me.
“You look like her more every damned day. Gods, I miss her sometimes.”
With shaky hands, I took the one photograph that someone managed to save from our destroyed house. I thought it might have been a Fed who gave it to me. One last reminder of what I lost. The photograph was of me and my parents outside on a sunny day. They grinned like they hadn’t a care in the world, or that’s how I always used to see them in this picture. As I looked at it now, I could see the fear in their eyes and the worry in the lines on their faces. All their lives, they’d been fighting Shuval. In the end, she won.
“I miss them, too,” I heard myself say.
“They’d be proud of you, as much as I hate to admit it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I was meant to keep you safe and here you are, going down the same path they did.” He cleared his throat roughly, and when I met his gaze, I the ghosts he’d been carrying with him since that night were evident. “I know you think I’m overreacting or being overprotective, but I loved your parents. Actually, I loved your mother before she met your father.”
“You and Mom?”
“Yeah. I was too much for her, as it turned out, but we stayed close. Your dad didn’t like it in the beginning, but we became friends. Good friends.” He rubbed a hand down his weary face. “All these years I hid away hoping the war with Shuval would miraculously go away on its own. That I wouldn’t have to lose anyone else.”
I shoved the picture in my pocket and grabbed for his hand. “I’m not going to die. Not as they did. I’m too much of a pain in the ass.”
“That’s bloody true.” He hugged me.
I returned the embrace.
“You’re like a daughter to me, always have been.”
“Even when you were being a jerk?”
He laughed, wiping at his eyes. “Even then. I had to make you tough enough for this world. Somehow, I knew this is where you’d end up. Fighting the good fight, constantly in danger.” He tucked my hair behind my ears, and I sensed it wasn’t me he saw then, but Mom. “Right, enough sentimental crap for the moment. Gigi texted me right before you did. Something about the tracking spell backfiring. I’m going to assume that’s how you got hurt?”
“Not all that happened.” Without even saying it, I knew how he’d react to the first bit of news about my possibly having seen Shuval.
He growled in anger, and his eyes flared red.
But it was when I told him about the visitor from the Gathered that had him pacing around my ruined apartment, muttering under his breath.
“Do you think there’s a chance they’re sending the gargoyles after me?”
“What?” He stopped short, eyes flaring brighter.
“What that bastard said, facing down worse foes than gargoyles if I didn’t join them, it sounds like someone’s pushing me to turn to them, enter the Citadel and maybe never leave again.”
“I suppose it’s possible, but this is extreme, even for them.” Then his eyes widened, and he hung his head. “I take that back. I forget who’s in charge now.”
“Who is he?”
“Quin Nolan. A piece of shit mage. Your father despised him. Wanted him kicked out and banned for life, but there were never enough votes to do so. Then your father was killed, and it would appear Quin has since risen in the ranks.”
“What did he do?”
“Experiments. That’s what he called them. Eamon tried to expose what he was really doing, but the mage covered his tracks well.” Damian punched the nearest, wall putting a hole in it.
He apologized, but I nodded to the other larger hole in my place. The one the gargoyle created.
“Right. If Quin is after you, we have to keep you out of sight. As much as I hate to say it, your best option might be to remain with Rufus in the Underground. Or with Bowen.”
“Bowen doesn’t live in the Underground. Does he?”
“No. He’s off the grid, and his place is heavily guarded. It’s also not in this sector.”
That I hadn’t expected, not that I should be surprised I supposed. I never asked Bowen where he lived. How terrible of a friend was I?
“I have to get my things from Rafael’s place.”
I needed to let him know everything Rafael remembered so far too, but that conversation would have to wait until later.
I studied Damien’s face. “You don’t think this Quin is working with Shuval, do you?”
“With all the shit you’ve uncovered recently, I can’t say yes or no. We’ll save any more questions until I know you’re safe. Where the Gathered and the gargoyles can’t get to you.”
I cursed whoever sent the gargoyles after me. I was getting tired of running. I wanted to get back to some good old fashion ass-kicking. Get a bounty, go find the target, kick his ass, and get paid. All the times I complained about that life I now wanted to take back. If only I could have that life again.
We started toward the door when a strange heat exploded in me.
I gasped, clutching at my chest as Damian rushed to my side.
Dark magic.
I couldn’t get the words out, but we were in trouble. Big trouble. My hand slipped to my gun and Damian drew his when he saw me.
The heat raged inside me, and the scar on my face felt like it was on fire.
My scream bounced off the walls.
The front door exploded inward. A cloaked figure stood on the threshold, hand outstretched toward my face.
“Hey asshole,” I grunted, drawing my gun in the same breath. I pulled the trigger, each shot forcing the figure out and back into the hall.
Damian had turned to the opening and was firing at something behind us.
A gust of wind told me exactly what it was.
He bellowed as not one gargoyle, but two, descended into my apartment.
Their shadows blocked out what little light came from the overcast day.
I was about to turn and help him when my scar flared again.
The cloaked figure righted itself. The robes were a deep blue, but there was nothing else to tell me who was hiding under the hood.
Panicked screams came from the other apartments as doors flew open.
I shouted for people to flee and get help. The figure glanced back at t
hem.
I rapidly fired another shot. The cloaked person’s hand shot out, blocking my shot.
I saw it then, the shimmering transparent shield that had blocked all my other shots.
Damian shouted my name and shoved me down as an arm swiped over our heads.
One of the gargoyles had been ready to snatch me up. I was getting really, really tired of being grabbed up like some freaking rag doll.
Fueled by the pain the intruder had caused, I reloaded my gun, then drew my sword. It unfolded in my left hand as I pushed to my feet and fired at the gargoyle’s face.
Bullets wouldn’t take the gargoyle down, but he had to get closer for me to use the sword.
Damian dropped his gun in exchange for two large knives. More like machetes, practically. He threw himself at the other gargoyle as the robed figure entered the apartment.
The hooded head turned my way.
I shrieked in agony. It felt as if someone was trying to peel my face from my skull.
The gargoyle came at me again, and I abandoned my useless gun to use both hands with my sword. I swiped across the gargoyle’s chest, but he kept coming. Blood oozed through his ragged shirt, but if he felt any pain, he didn’t show it.
I ran toward the far wall and ran up it.
The gargoyle was hot on my heels.
I kicked off, fueled by my magic, and landed behind the beast. I slashed down again and again.
He roared, wings shooting out to the sides. His tail caught me in the middle.
I grunted as I slammed into the wall then slid to the floor in a heap.
“Enough. We need her. She’s the one who has it,” a voice hissed from beneath the hood. Not man or woman. More like a monster. “Finish him.”
“Damian,” I gasped, struggling to get up.
The figure shot a hand toward me.
Pain ricocheted through my body like lightning. I curled in on myself, digging my nails into the hard floor, fighting to find purchase as Damian fought against the gargoyles.
Damian was the best I’d ever seen with a pair of knives, but he never stood a chance.
I dragged myself forward one painful inch at a time.
He bellowed a battle cry. His body flew into the ceiling, then slammed back into the floor.
The gargoyles’ wings cut off my view, but I heard each strike. They were going to kill him.
“You will not save him,” the figure hissed, suddenly standing over me. The figure kicked me in the ribs, flipping me over. “Give in, Mercy, make it easier on yourself.”
“Screw you,” I spat.
I was rewarded with another kick. Also to the ribs. Damn.
My scar had to be on fire. I screamed in powerless fury.
Damian’s rough whisper reached me. “Mercy.”
The gargoyles parted enough for me to see his outstretched hand, the rest of him covered in blood.
I had to get to him. I had to. I stretched as far as I could.
Above me, the figure cackled. “Pathetic.”
Deep down I knew I shouldn’t have done it, how much it would screw me up, but I was not going to watch Damian die. I was done being the victim.
As this asshole’s dark magic pressed me to the floor, my own magic flared to life with a vengeance. Unlike the flames before, that I had no control over, these bent to my will. They wrapped around my hands and up my arms, giving me the strength to find my legs and rise.
“What’s this? You think you’re strong, is that it? Oh, my precious girl, you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
I shut my eyes, focusing only on my power.
The flames crackled with life in my ears, speaking to me. And I was more than willing to speak back. My eyes shot open, and I threw my arms out toward the figure. My fire whipped at him, sending him falling backward.
He struggled to erect a shield to protect himself. It wasn’t fast enough to ward off my rage.
Yelling as I pushed through the pain, I went on the offensive, knowing my power was limited.
I went for the figure’s hood, wanting to see who it was.
He shrieked for the gargoyles to attack and I directed my flames to engulf them instead. They flailed in the flames, fleeing for the open wall.
I spun around ready to attack the figure, but it was like it had never been there.
As the gargoyles flew away, still on fire, I pulled the flames back into me.
I shuddered and collapsed as I regained a hold of my power. It wanted to be free and fought me every inch of the way. When I finally suppressed the flames, I blacked out.
I came to, mouth dry, every limb aching.
All around me were the sounds of yelling and shouting.
My apartment, I was in my apartment, and something was wrong.
I rolled to my side and saw the body on the other end of the room, not moving.
“No.” Adrenaline pushed me forward, and I crawled until I reached Damian’s side. I squeezed his hand as I checked his pulse, yelling at him to be alive.
His heartbeat was thready, at best, and his breathing ragged.
The gargoyles. We’d been attacked by gargoyles.
“Damian, stay with me.” I shouted and screamed for help.
Someone finally yelled back they were coming. They didn’t sound like they were close.
“Hold on, Damian, you just have to hold on.”
There was so much blood. I wiped as much as I could from his face.
Then the cops were there, paramedics right behind them.
They asked me if I was hurt, but I didn’t care about me. Damian. They needed to save him.
“Ma’am, tell us what happened.”
“Gargoyles,” I said, not letting my gaze leave Damian. “They attacked us, and he fought them off.” They rushed to patch what wounds they could then talked about getting him to an ambulance. “I’m going with him.”
“Who is he to you?”
“My dad,” I said without thinking.
If the cops questioned that, they didn’t say anything. They let me go to the ambulance with the paramedics.
I climbed in after and held onto Damian’s hand.
Soon as the doors closed, a black SUV pulled up outside the building. Iris stepped out. We locked eyes then the doors closed, and we were off. Dealing with Rafael was the least of my worries. A witch and fae worked on Damian all the way to the hospital. When we arrived, I tried to stay by his side, but I was pulled away by a nurse.
“I can’t leave him. Please, I have to stay by him.”
“They’ll take care of him, you’ll see,” the shifter told me, yellow eyes flashing in sympathy. “Come on, let’s get you checked out, too.”
“I’m not hurt.”
“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding. Let’s go. We’ll get you fixed up then you can wait for him.”
Exhaustion from using my magic struck me as soon as I sat on a bed.
Numbness followed.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the bed, an IV sticking out of my arm, monitors beeping. I was groggy, and my tongue felt too big for my mouth. Words failed me.
For a horrible second, all I saw was that hooded figure ready to attack me again.
I scrambled back on the bed, yanking at the IV in my arm and yelling for him to get away.
“You need to calm down. Help! We need help over here,” a nurse yelled as she took hold of my shoulders. She was strong for a shifter, but I was stronger.
Pent-up adrenaline made it impossible for her to subdue me. Two large vampires in scrubs rushed over, but I kicked one and punched the other clear across the room. My power threatened to break free again. The IV tore out of my arm.
“Mercy? Move back. Give her room.”
“Rafael?” What was he doing here? I stilled as he came around the curtain, face drawn with worry. “What… how are you here?”
“Doesn’t matter. Do you know where you are?”
I glanced around wildly, but he took my hands and gently turned my fac
e toward his.
“Mercy, breathe. Just breathe and talk to me. Do you know where you are?”
The grogginess of the meds lifted enough to nod. The other beds in the room came into focus, as did the array of nurses and orderlies, all looking at me as if I was going to lose control again.
I took a deep breath in, then let it out. “Hospital.”
“Good. That’s good. You’re safe here, alright?”
“We need to get the IV back in,” the nurse whispered.
I tensed.
Rafael shook his head. “She’ll be fine. Trust me.”
The nurse pursed her lips in disapproval, but let it go. She came toward me slowly and said she was going to bandage the wound I’d opened. I let her, looking into Rafael’s eyes to keep me centered. When she finished, Rafael asked her and the others to give us some space.
“She’s under control. Trust me,” he said when they took too long to clear out.
“Damian! Where is Damian? I need to see him.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed, looking at my bare feet, confused. “Where the hell are my boots? And my coat?” Shit, where were my weapons? I was defenseless.
“Right here, in the chair. How about you tell me what happened, first?”
“Where is Damian?”
Rafael turned back to the nurse and asked if she knew anything. “He’s in another room. He won’t be able to leave any time soon.”
I tore myself from Rafael, slamming my head back on the pillow.
“Mercy?”
“It’s my fault. All my fault. Shit.” I smashed my fist into a nearby monitor then into the other one for good measure. Neither action made me feel better. I was ready to leap off the bed and grab a chair.
Rafael’s large form blocked me.
“Move.”
“Not until you calm down.”
“I am calm.”
His brow arched. “Mercy, calm down, or I’ll help the orderlies hold you down so the nurse can sedate you. Got it? Get a grip.”
I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Iris was called to the scene. She saw you being taken away.”
