“The bleeding’s stopped,” Killian growls. “Help Pax.”
“It’s not stopped,” Seth argues, putting pressure on the wound.
“I’m with Pax,” Roarke says, moving towards the saddle bags first.
Pax doesn’t seem to have gotten that letter since he’s still staggering toward me. He unfurls his fingers, letting the handful of bloody leaves fall to the ground.
Roarke pulls out clothing from the first available bag and tosses what looks like one of Killian’s shirts to Seth. It’s quickly turned into a bandage as Roarke does the same for Pax, tearing a second shirt as he moves.
I don’t know who to help.
They’re all bleeding, even Seth from the slices left by the glass.
Pax isn’t even slowing down, his gaze golden and the sharp lines of his face set intently on me. Like I’m more important than saving his own damn life.
So much blood. So much pain. My insides want to rip right out to help the people I love.
I have to help them all.
Two things happen at once – first, it feels like my insides really do rip right out as power from within me slams into each of my guys. In an agonizing instant, I feel their muscles knit, their flesh repair, and the pain recede. Not that I do any of that, their bodies take full control. I’d simply pressed the power into them. Power I never knew I had and have no idea how to control.
And thing number two – in the exact same moment, someone cuts me down from behind.
The blade moves through me like a knife through butter. Sharp and sudden and earth shatteringly painful. Blood bubbles up and dribbles from my lips, strangling anything that might have sounded like a scream into nothing but a gurgle.
Thinking becomes impossible as my knees buckle, and the attacker behind me laughs hysterically.
Killian dives over me, pressing me to the ground with his body as a human shield. I can hear the frenzy, screaming and pain, but everything is black shadows and ice cold, and I can’t see a single thing.
I ache being underneath him. Not seeing what’s happening. Not knowing if he’s being ripped to shreds right now. Why won’t he defend himself?!
The Shadows coil and crawl back into Killian, and I can see my attacker was alone, his now headless body on the ground. Killian picks me up, and I sling one arm around his neck, the other failing to move at all. Pax takes what’s left of my shirt in his hands and rips the fabric open. Laying me bare. What’s left of me.
“It’s mortal,” Killian growls.
It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt, that’s what it is. Worse than the almost peaceful death that the Spring offered.
Searing. Burning. Shredding.
Pax runs a finger down my spine. His touch is perfectly soft amidst the agony.
My vision fades. Each breath comes shallower than the last, and the effort to take the next feels too great.
“ – won’t save her,” Killian is saying.
“We can heal her.” That’s Roarke.
“Not this damage. No one can heal this kind of damage. Her shoulder’s almost detached, and her spine…”
I try to dig my nails into his back. My death isn’t something they should be discussing without my input – but parts of me have stopped working, and muscle movement is high up on that list.
Pax growls, and the land seems to vibrate, echoing him and bowing in submission. His hand presses against my skin, and power charges through me.
Power and pain. My back arches like I’m being shredded from the inside out, which matches the feeling radiating from the outside in. I lie – it doesn’t match it at all. This is so much stronger. Like a current of magic is being pushed from his hand into my soul and firing out in all directions. Bones that I didn’t even realize were broken snap back into place. Heat runs along the long edges of the wound, burning with such intensity that I can’t even breathe, let alone scream.
Just gasp and whimper. And cry.
I feel Killian brace against the force, trying not to be pushed back as Pax presses so hard into my spine that I’m sure he’s about to break me in two. But I give in to the power, consciousness slipping away. My body goes limp, and Killian’s grip on me tightens.
“Enough,” I hear him growl, but not an angry growl. A scared and desperate growl.
“No,” Seth says, as he laces his fingers through mine.
Roarke takes a hold of my other hand. “We have to fight.”
Their touch ignites the little bit of struggle left in me – filling my gaps with their power. Each thread has its own feel, but they twine together to make a whole. I shouldn’t be able to see the threads, but they’re inside me, struggling to repair the damage. To keep me alive. Killian’s threads are ice-cold and blood red in color. Roarke’s fibers almost calmly search out my weaknesses, deep purple and thin as silk. Seth’s power stretches and snaps in every direction, demanding with a burnt orange intensity. And Pax, Pax is commanding my body into obedience, with deep forest green veins of power. I should be worried about their frantic screams, the way my body is jerking as their power rushes through me, all of that should worry me.
But the pain is gone. And when that happens, death isn’t far away.
Their heads bow to meet mine, forming a circle with me in the middle. For a split second, I’m sure this is the end – this is what accepting fate looks like. We’ve all been here once before, and things should be easier the second time around – shouldn’t they?
But before defeat can latch on, the power pulsing through us doubles.
The earth hums, and the trees, the air, the whole world vibrates.
And I pass out.
I watch her fall. The ShimmerSeed is beside himself with joy, and before Beautiful’s torn body has even hit the ground, I control the form. Snapping and slashing, I tear toward the Saber. Time stops.
That hole I thought I needed to fill with the death of every Hyll is torn right open – paling against this new pain. Holding her in the Spring hurt – but I took it all for granted when we pulled her out.
I don’t need death – I need life.
I need her life. Safe and whole and mine. I knew that. I lost sight of it, but I knew it, and now I want it back.
The beat of my heart hammers harder than it ever has, forcing me to move faster. Faster. The short distance that was between us feels like eternity unfolding. Darkness uses the Shadows – appearing over Beautiful and throwing himself down as her shield, leaving his back exposed, but that won’t be a problem because I’m already leaping over the two of them. The ShimmerSeed is under my paws with satisfying, bone crushing impact.
I sink my teeth into his throat, taste the thrum of a pulse, and savor that second when life ceases – exactly as it should be. I shake my head sharply, severing it from his body.
Then turn sharply, in the same second as Pax pushes forward, and for a brief moment, we share time and space.
She’s on the ground. The Darkness brother has her held in his Shadows, and his pure black gaze meets mine.
Don’t take her – I beg
“Don’t take her,” Pax echoes.
She’s so broken. Blood stains the shirt, and her shoulder is at an angle that tells me the thing’s no longer connected by bone, possibly not even muscle.
Killian picks her up, growling, “It’s mortal!”
We ignore him, tearing her shirt to inspect the damage. Pax looks at the wound, gaping and losing blood at a rate even the strongest Saber can’t sustain. I see all of that too – but what I’m looking at is her back.
Marred by lashings, the sight of which makes my skin prick with remembered pain. My gut twists, and my instincts pull with the desire to take retribution.
That can’t be right.
This can’t be her skin, her back – her past.
There has to be a mistake.
She’s ours. We would never have let this happen.
Ours to hold, to protect, to keep – to save.
Save her! –
&nb
sp; We stare Killian in the eye, saying, “Take her.”
“It’s too late. The Veil queen can’t bring back the dead – taking her now won’t save her.”
With one finger Pax traces her spine, drawing a line in the blood. Too much blood.
“We can heal her,” Roarke declares.
“Not this damage,” Killian argues. “No one can heal this kind of damage. Her shoulder’s almost detached, and her spine…”
We’ve stopped listening, stopped caring. Seth and I both frozen in white-hot terror. Pax presses his palm to her spine, and without a single thought, I throw my soul into his.
Hard.
Power meeting power.
And all of it is directed at the one thing in this world we want more than air itself.
The hurting of just moments ago – watching the woman who murdered our family die before we could take our revenge – it feels so small, so distant, insignificant.
Nothing else matters.
She whimpers, but we push harder, feeling her body respond despite all odds. Respond and struggle. This has to work!
But it’s just not enough.
We’re not enough, and the fear unfolds that all we are doing is dragging out her pain. We’re making her last moments unbearable, but we can’t stop. The earth would shake itself apart, all life falling into the abyss, and it would be insignificant compared to this moment. To right now.
“Enough,” Killian gasps – pleads.
Seth grabs her hand – declaring, “No!”
Life is meaningless unless we can fix this.
Roarke grabs her other hand. “We have to fight.”
Our heads bow to hers. One instant, we’re all fighting alone, struggling, desperate – and the next, the core of Silva ignites between us. Sabers. Pentad. Bonded. Mates. Whole.
Alive.
Gasping, we hold each other, our power pulling what it needs to repair the damage, knowing what it needs to do, and we simply try to stay on our feet.
And it works.
We can feel it, feel her gasping and whimpering settle into steady breaths while her heartbeat strengthens.
But we don’t dare move until the magic releases us – then even a few more minutes after that.
“It worked,” Roarke gasps, his forehead resting against her temple. “She’s alive.”
“Vexy,” Seth stutters, gulping, maybe even crying somewhere under his exhausted panting.
Killian rumbles, still holding her in the air, hard against his chest, and not looking like he’s ready to let her go – none of us are.
The Spring chose her, then Silva chose her, but fuck them all because I chose her first.
When I’m free from the most intense connection with Pax I have ever had, I shake myself up from the dark mist-covered floor of the inside of his mind and tilt my neck back to howl.
If he had more energy, he’d be pissed at me – he has never liked me doing that.
Instead, he offers Killian a nod that says, ‘Don’t let her go,’ then turns to inspect the body on the ground and the various parts of bodies strewn around.
Beautiful is alive – just. Barely. It was too close. They’re all dead, and he’s itching to fight, to kill, to demand the world pay for his pain.
He rolls his sword over in his hand again and again, pacing.
Hurting.
I flash an image of our Beautiful’s back into his mind, and instantly, he grabs at the distraction.
There’s no one else to kill except Lucif or Lithael or whoever the hell is on the throne, but the Black Castle is too far away – and the man who left scars on Beautiful’s back is just beyond the border. Now that I know he’s there, know what he did, know what kind of monster he is, I can smell him, and the scent is begging me to hunt.
No one talks as Killian passes Kitten up and into Seth’s arms. Seth’s horse doesn’t even move, as if sensing how precious its new cargo is.
She’s alive.
My body aches, struggling against exhaustion that pulls all words from my mind before they can form on my lips.
Doesn’t remove the relief.
She has a steady heartbeat that doesn’t require my power to keep it pumping in her chest, and her lungs are drawing in easy breaths. But Aeons, if this woman dies one more time, it will be the end of me.
Maybe this is my punishment for ending so many lives? Watching the one I love die again and again. Sounds about right.
I tie Kitten’s horse behind mine. There could be more enemies in these trees, but we can’t be sure, so we can’t stay here.
We also can’t stop looking at each other in disbelief.
Just another impossible thing. Healers can fuel a Saber’s existing magic, but the Saber’s body does all the work, directing the power through its normal subconscious effort. Kitten managed to concentrate hard enough to direct my power into one single broken arm. It took every bit of mental strength she had, but she had to be the one to do it. We couldn’t have pulled it off if she was unconscious.
Only, this time we did. Our powers knew her. They knew what to do.
Pax and Thane are battling for control. The fact that he gets on a horse just marginally shows who’s winning. But where they’re going… that has everything to do with his Alpha need to protect. The Cataclysm is dead. Shade’s attacker is dead. That leaves only one more person he needs to remove. Killian throws himself onto his big black gelding, the animal turning in sharp, agitated circles, waiting for the rest of us to mount up and get moving.
Seth’s already on his horse, with Kitten in his arms. It would be Pax, if Pax didn’t have something else on his mind. We circle round and head north. None of us able to, or daring to, speak.
Not a single word.
Disbelief is a powerful emotion.
Pax stops his mount and doubles back past each of us, looking us in the eye for an argument, though none of us challenge him. He stops beside Kitten, runs a hand down her cheek, then clicks loudly and spurs his horse, Killian a whole beat behind him, straight for the border.
Straight for the Manor.
We always knew this would be his reaction after seeing Kitten’s scars. But on top of everything, not a single one of us wants to talk him out of it. Seth and I continue into the night.
“About here?” Seth asks.
I look around and nod.
“Are you sure they’ll listen?”
I nod again and move into the lead, walking straight into the Tangled Forest.
Straight into vine territory.
It doesn’t take long for the forest to grow too thick for the horses.
“You want to let us through. The heart of your vines welcomes us as we mean you no harm and seek only protection,” I say, using the last of my Allure.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this drained. This empty. Being healed used my power too. Then healing her – I would happily use everything for that.
Everything.
The vines resist but ultimately move aside, creating a path then settling back into place. We ride in until we can feel Ximena, then stop. The Silvari trees are just as tall here, except they’re covered in sentient vines – curious creatures that unfurl to investigate our intrusion.
“A place to rest, please,” I try, and mostly fail to share our needs, fail to pull the magic.
But the vines creep back, letting early morning light in and uncovering a small pond in the center of what must have once been a really big boulder. It’s worn almost flat now, just enough of a groove in the middle to hold water. The ground is mostly moss, and the vines hover nearby like a crowd of eager children and suspicious elders.
I dismount and take Kitten from Seth, the guy giving a little grunt and slowly extending his arms. He’s ridden for hours with her, on top of the pain of being healed instantly, but that doesn’t slow him down. Before I’ve even settled Kitten on some moss, the guy has the horses secured and is pulling fresh clothes out of his bag.
I crouch beside her, my hands trembli
ng with hesitation. Her shirt is torn, and no doubt she’d appreciate having a new one on, but I’m not ready to look at the remnants of that damage.
“Let me,” Seth says, squeezing my shoulder.
Yep, even that muscle hurts. I back away, pace, then decide to rummage uselessly through the bags while Seth slips her out of the ruined shirt and into a fresh one. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for when my fingers brush glass. Wine.
Two bottles, and in Seth’s bag – of course.
I pull them out and rejoin him. The fresh shirt sits a little awkwardly and twisted on her, but it’s still a big improvement, except for the blood. Seth’s propped against the rough edge of the pool with Kitten in his arms.
He points to the discarded rag and says, “I’m stuck.”
Which is a solution to my issue with the blood. I grab the garment and realize he’s already dipped a clean corner into the pool. He must have washed her back, then sat with her and couldn’t reach to finish the job. Kneeling beside them, I wipe Kitten’s face and neck clean. Her breathing is steady under my touch, in too deep a sleep to stir. I wipe her hair back from her face, then drop the rag on the stone and offer him a drink.
He gives me a lopsided smile, pops the cork with his teeth and sips loudly before asking, “Is she in pain?”
I sit by his side, close enough for her head to rest against my arm.
“No,” I whisper, popping my own cork and lifting the bottle to my lips.
I’m intending a sip, but the liquid is too smooth and refreshing. The bottle is almost gone before I know it.
Seth chuckles at me and leans back.
“This rock is the perfect height,” he says.
I mumble in agreement and mirror his relaxed recline, my eyes drifting closed.
“Was that your 50-50-90 rule?” he asks all of a sudden. I stare at him, completely taken by surprise until he goes on. “In the Spring. There was 50-50 chance we’d either sink or swim, and a 90 percent chance that life isn’t that simple and something was going to fuck up.”
I snort and nod. That’s all I can manage.
The silence doesn’t last long before he asks a new question. “Was it us going into the Spring that brought down the barrier?”
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 120
