Dark Gift

by Kim Richardson

  But somehow I’d survived. I felt terrible—exhausted, achy, nauseated, my head throbbing behind my eyes. But I was alive. Part of me wanted to do nothing except curl up in this glorious bed and sleep. But this definitely wasn’t my bed.

  Tyrius held up a paw. “How many fingers am I holding?”

  “What?” I rubbed my eyes, feeling the pain behind them. I hurt everywhere. Even blinking sent my head throbbing.

  “How. Many. Fingers,” pressed the baal demon.

  “Five?” I shrugged, realizing it hurt even to breathe. “You’re holding up your entire paw,” I said, taking small, even breaths.

  Tyrius made a satisfied sound in his throat. “So what the hell happened? Gareth says there was blood everywhere, but it wasn’t yours.”

  Gareth. My stomach dropped. Wincing, I pushed myself up. “Did Gareth find me? How?” I gazed about the room, taking it all in as though I was just seeing it again for the first time. All around me were the telltale signs of masculinity: the big wooden furniture, the thick drapes, dark colors, a large weathered chest. I recognized the bed and the duvet cover.

  “This is Gareth’s room?” It was more of a statement than a question. I don’t know why, but I brought the sheets to my nose and smelled them. They smelled like soap, not him. He’d given me clean sheets?

  Tyrius gave a little sigh. “I panicked, all right? There, I said it. So put a collar on me! I was worried. We all were, Gran and Kora and me. I called you two hours later and you weren’t answering. I knew something was off. Damn that Jax. He’s been nothing but trouble. And he’s been acting so strangely lately. I don’t trust him.” The cat gestured helplessly. “So I called Gareth and told him where you were.”

  I looked at my hands. Faint white scars like healed blisters covered them. “I thought I was dead.”

  “No shit.” Tyrius’s eyes welled with tears and I quickly looked away before I started bawling. “That elf’s got some serious healing magic,” said the cat, his voice proud. “He worked on you day and night, covering you with sticky brown pastes and some of his elf dust—”

  “Day and night?” I questioned, my heart thumping. “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.” Tyrius’s eyes creased at the sides. “You were in really bad shape, Rowyn. Your skin... it was all blistered and red and burnt. Like you’d been doused in gasoline and someone lit a match.”

  Damn. That’s exactly how I would have described it. Only, I had burned on the inside as well.

  Tyrius moved closer. “Gareth had to feed you some liquid too. He said you were just as badly burnt on the inside,” said the cat, reading my mind.

  I put my hand to my throat. “It sure still feels like it,” I swallowed hard, my throat so sore and tight I could barely swallow my own saliva. Come to think of it, there was a minty taste in my mouth and it wasn’t from a mouthwash.

  The smell of cooking wafted in and my stomached growled. Whatever it was smelled delicious. Man, I was hungry.

  “If you didn’t have your super-healing powers from the angels,” said Tyrius, his blue eyes worried, “I don’t think you would have made it, Rowyn.”

  My insides tightened into a knot, making me feel nauseated. Ethan had expected me to die. But I didn’t. And when I saw him again, I was going to kick his ass. And this time, he was staying down.

  “The elf says it was dark magic,” the cat’s voice took on a serious tone. “The worst kind. The killing kind.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. I remember.” I also remembered how thrilled Ethan was to hurt me, to induce such excruciating pain for the mere pleasure of it. The psychopath got off on it. But it was also a show of strength. He wanted to show me just how much stronger he was. My thoughts went to my grandmother next, my stomach clenching as I realized what two days meant. “Who’s watching Grandma? Lisbeth...” was all I could say.

  The cat showed me his pointy teeth and pressed a paw on my chest. “Gareth booked her at a five-star spa retreat called HANDS OF GOD—yeah, don’t ask. It’s somewhere in upstate New York. He booked her under his name. A car came to get her and everything. She’s fine. Better than fine. The old broad sounded ecstatic when we called her this morning. Something to do with open bars all day long.”

  I stared at the cat. Gareth booked my grandmother a spa retreat? He would do that? Of course he would. He was just that kind of man. How could I ever repay him? Crap. I didn’t like being in anyone’s debt. How many times had the elf saved my life? Lots.

  My feeling of gratitude was quickly squished when I felt the skin from my legs brushing against the softness of the cotton sheets. Pulse throbbing, I yanked up the covers and peered inside. Holy hell. I was in my underwear, wearing a t-shirt that wasn’t mine.

  Heat rushed to my face, my pulse jackhammering. “Tyrius,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Did you... who took... where are my clothes?”

  The cat had the decency to look abashed for only a second. “Gareth had to wash them three times to get the filth off. Man. You were filthy. Covered in blood, dust, dirt. Tell me,” said Tyrius, as he cocked his head. “How did you get flesh in your hair?”

  My eyes glanced to the water bowl and my lips parted. He’d washed me too.

  “You’re awake,” came a voice from across the room.

  More heat rushed from my neck to my face as my eyes met the wizard elf standing in the doorway. Dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, he was hatless, the tips of his pointy ears peering through his thick tousled hair. He looked virile with his usual three days’ worth of stubble to give himself a more rugged cast. Only an elf could look sexy with a dishtowel in his hands.

  He’d washed me.

  Trying to keep my face neutral, I looked away and saw Kora trotting past him to jump on the bed. “Hi, Rowyn.” Her sweet voice made me smile. “How do you feel?” The beautiful white, long-haired cat came up to my hand and rubbed her face. “I’d never seen Tyrius so worried before. He started to shed everywhere.”

  “Kora,” warned Tyrius, looking a little embarrassed.

  The white cat ignored him and sat on my left, looking regal and mystical, like a princess cat from some faery tale land. “Your color’s returned. You look much better, Rowyn.”

  “I feel better, thanks.” I wasn’t about to tell them I still felt like I’d been thrown in a meat grinder.

  Gareth stepped into the room, looking trim and confident. “I’m making chicken noodle soup. I’ve added some medicinal herbs and some plant extracts. If you’re up to it, you should have some. It’ll soothe your throat and give you some strength back.”

  I gave the elf a tight smile. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you,” I said, knowing from his pancakes that this would probably be the best freaking chicken noodle soup I’d ever tasted. I let out a sigh and met the elf’s stare. “Thanks for saving my ass—again.”

  The elf beamed, transforming his rugged face into a very pleasant one, and my heart skipped a beat. “You do have a fascinating way of always getting into trouble.”

  I smiled right back at him. “I lead a very fascinating life.” My eyes darted to the bowl and wash cloth on the dresser next to me. “Thanks for... um.... lending me your t-shirt.”

  “No problem.” The tips of Gareth’s ears reddened. I eyed him, the corners of my lips quirking. Though he was trying to hide it, I could see the elf was a little uncomfortable. Guess he liked what he saw...

  “Okay. Enough with the flirting,” said Tyrius, and my face burned. “Are you going to tell us what happened or do I have to beat it out of you?” He leaned back, his tail flicking in nervous irritation.

  “Ethan,” I said. The name tasted bitter on my lips. It struck a chord and made my blood boil. “It was Ethan.”

  Tyrius’s brows wrinkled in a frown. “Ethan? The shy, angel-born introvert who looks like he still lives with his parents? That Ethan?”

  “The very same.” I pulled myself higher and leaned on the wall of pillows behind me. God, this bed is comfortable. “He tricked
me into thinking Jax was with him and wanting to hurt himself.”

  “I remember you telling me as much,” agreed the cat. “And I take it that Goldilocks wasn’t there.”

  “No, he wasn’t.” I paused, preparing myself for what I was about to say. “Ethan killed the half-breeds. And he was going to try and pin the murders on me. Lucian never touched the half-breeds.”

  “Get out!” exclaimed Tyrius. “No freaking way!”

  “Lucian?” questioned the elf, looking concerned. “Who’s Lucian?”

  “Her archdemon father,” answered Tyrius, though his eyes never left my face.

  Gareth shifted his weight, his brow furrowed with lines of anger creasing his face. “You’ve met an archdemon?”

  “Long story,” I told the elf at his quizzical stare. “I’ll tell you in a second.” I exhaled long and loud, though my tension was rising. “It gets worse.”

  Tyrius let out a little laugh. “How can this supernatural debacle get any worse? Are there clowns involved?”

  “Hush, Tyrius. Let her speak,” commanded Kora. She gave my hand a nudge with her head. “Go on, Rowyn.”

  I dredged up a smile at the cat and said, “Ethan wasn’t alone. There were four others. Two women and two men.”

  “And what?” Tyrius tapped his foot on my stomach. “Did they asked you to join their fivesome?”

  Twin feelings of anger and excitement lit through me, but the anger won. “They were Unmarked. And have dark magic.”

  Tyrius stiffened like a stuffed taxidermy cat and keeled over on his side.

  “My God,” whispered Kora, her golden eyes wide and full of wonder and fear. “And they did this to you?”

  Nodding, my gaze found the elf. He had a deep frown on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, the dish towel crumpled between his arms.

  “But how is that possible?” Tyrius pushed himself up. “Degamon was sent to kill them all. How did they escape the Greater demon?”

  “That’s because they didn’t,” I answered, having wondered the exact same thing. “They weren’t born yet. Evanora,” I breathed, as a hot fury entered my blood stream, “took the blood she stole from me and infused it in different pregnant angel-born females. Then with some dark magic, she was able to speed up their growth. In just a few months they were already young adults. It sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”

  Gareth’s attention flicked to me, his worried frown becoming one of shock. “Lisbeth has gone too far. She’s lost control. She’s playing God with this journey into the darkness of greed and ambition. She stands to lose everything that really matters. The fact that she sits on the Gray Council is very unsettling.”

  “Unsettling!” yelled Tyrius. “It’s some seriously twisted crap. And we’re all covered in it.”

  “What do they want?” asked the elf, ignoring the cat’s tantrum like a patient father.

  My heart gave a thump. “To remove all the half-breeds from the world.”

  Tyrius cursed. “I’ve had enough of Lisbeth’s science projects.” He shifted on the bed, his eyes angry. “How do we kill them?”

  I looked away from the cat. “To be honest, I don’t know that we can. Look what they did to me.” I lifted my hands and looked at my arms because I couldn’t see what my face looked like. “And that was just Ethan. The others just stood there and watched.”

  “That’s it,” hissed Tyrius. “I’m going full-on kung fu on their asses.”

  Gareth uncrossed his arms and came closer until he was right next to the bed. “And you tried to take them on by yourself?” asked the elf, shaking his head, though I saw the hint of a smile there. “You foolish Hunter.”

  I pulled my eyes away from the elf, folding the top part of the sheet with my fingers. “Yeah, well, I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my life.”

  “And then some,” finished Tyrius, and Kora smacked him over the head.

  “They think I’m dead.” I gripped a fistful of the sheets, and as I did, it slowly dawned on me. My pulse raced. “They think I’m dead,” I repeated. “Ethan would have told Lisbeth by now,” I said, realizing it as the words formed on my lips. “I’m pretty sure he was really happy to tell her, which means she’ll send them to finish what she thought I started.”

  “The list of names,” expressed Tyrius, his ears flattened on his head. “Danto. Oh, crap, Rowyn.”

  “I have to find him,” I said speaking fast. “Lisbeth wants to take out all the half-breed leaders. If she thinks I’m dead, she’ll send these Unmarked to kill him. I have to warn him.” Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled myself higher, aware of Gareth’s attention on me. Tyrius sprang off my chest to land next to Kora on the bed.

  The elf’s new softness vanished, and he eyed me steadily. “Rowyn. You’re too weak to go anywhere right now. Why don’t you just call him.”

  “I will,” I answered, feeling like I owed him an explanation. “But he’s been MIA since I told him about Vicky. Even so, he’s going to need my help. He doesn’t know what they are. He can’t fight them on his own.”

  “Neither can you,” prompted the elf, and my anger rose. “I’m not judging your abilities,” he added quickly, seeing my sour expression. “I’m just telling you that this is a fight you can’t win. Not against this kind of dark magic. And especially not when you’re still healing. Your body’s been through hell.”

  He hesitated, like he was trying to compose himself. “I didn’t think you were going to make it,” he added, and I looked away from his intense gaze before he made me change my mind. “You need rest. At least a week.”

  “Danto will be dead in a week,” I said, my voice low, knowing it to be true. “He’ll be dead in a few days if I don’t do something. He’s my friend. I won’t let him die. I owe him that.”

  Gareth sighed, and for the first time I saw how tired he was. He probably hadn’t slept much since he found me. “Rowyn, this isn’t your fault.”

  My laugh turned into an ugly hiss at the ribbons of piercing pain in my ribs. “Of course it’s my fault,” I wheezed. “My blood made them. Without my blood, Evanora couldn’t have created these monsters. This is on me.” And only me.

  “It’s the damn hag Lisbeth’s fault,” argued Tyrius, his tone hot with anger. “We should have killed her old wrinkled ass a long time ago.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Gareth pressed his lips together and gave me an askance look. “Does your life matter so little? Are you willing to risk it?” he asked, his voice hard and accusing.

  I hung my head so he couldn’t see my eyes. “I’m not going to risk my friend’s life,” I said, fear making my voice soft. My jaw clenched, and the hurt swelled. I had killed Steven—maybe not intentionally, but I did. I couldn’t let anything happen to Danto.

  Emotion welled, and I got even more angry at myself. I searched the elf’s face. “Will you show me how to use pullomancy? Fight magic with magic, right?”

  Gareth watched at me for a long moment. “Even if I did, pullomancy can’t help you now. It’ll take months, years to even master a single spell.”

  I frowned. I didn’t have months. If I’d been here for two days, I had only hours before Danto was killed. I knew Gareth was telling me the truth, but it still made me angry. I needed to figure out how to beat Ethan and the others. I needed to be stronger. Maybe...

  “You need to stay.” Gareth’s tone was final, and if I hadn’t seen and heard how much he’d gone through to keep me alive, I would have told him to shove it. But the elf had saved me, time and time again, bathed me and healed me from Ethan’s dark curses that surely would have killed me otherwise. So I bit my tongue. Hard.

  But Gareth was my friend, not boyfriend. And I never listened to any of my boyfriends, anyway.

  “Like hell am I.” I lifted the covers off of me, not caring that I was only in my underwear and Gareth’s t-shirt. The elf had seen all of me before. It’s not like I’d shock him.

  “You were near death when I found you,�
�� accused the elf, his face darkening. “Think this through. You weren’t hurt when you fought Ethan the first time. Think of what he can do to you now that you’re not fully healed.”

  I raised a brow. “The only thought I have right now is to kick his ass.”

  Tyrius laughed, which secured him a vicious hiss from Kora.

  I swung my legs over the bed and pressed my bare feet on the Persian rug. So far so good. “Where are my clothes? And my bag?” I stood and immediately regretted it as a violent dizzy spell took me. I fell back onto the bed, my hands splayed against the frame.

  Gareth was immediately at my side, taking my elbow and holding me up. “I told you. You need to rest. This is crazy, Rowyn. Look at you. You can barely stand.”

  “I can stand.” My breath hissed in my attempt to cover a whimper of agony. “I’ve rested long enough.”

  Gareth’s grip on my elbow tightened and he slipped his hand around my waist. “Stay,” he murmured, his breath on my neck warm. The scent of lavender and musky male perspiration filled me, sending my skin tingling and rising in goose pimples. My heart throbbed as I pulled out of his grip and tried to stand upright on my own, but it only made me dizzier. Damn. I was going to throw up.

  “I’m fine,” I said breathily, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t meet Gareth’s eyes as I shuffled forward like a ninety-year-old woman. Was this what it felt like to be Lisbeth? The thought of her sent a hot spike of fury through me.

  There was no way in hell I was going to stay here in Gareth’s bed, though it was tempting, while my vampire friend could be in serious trouble.

  I looked to the bed and found both Tyrius and Kora staring at me, their eyes full of worry.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told them, my throat throbbing at the sight of concern coming from the two cats. “I’m already healing. I should be fine in an hour or so. Trust me.”

  Tyrius shrugged. “If you say so.” He didn’t sound convinced.