by Calista Fox
Without giving her time to catch her breath, the horse lurched. The flames around the cloak of the wraith and in his eye sockets vanished. Clothed in black, he was impossible to see, save for the spindle-fingered, skeletal hand that shot out of a sleeve.
With a death grip on her upper arm, he hoisted her onto his steed and the horse raced through the woods, his thundering hooves reverberating all around them.
The demonic beast cut a path in the dense forest. Tree limbs and needles lashed Jade, slicing her skin open in large gashes and shredding her sweater as she tried to shield her face. Terror seized her soul as the horse wove its way through the dense foliage with such speed, the surroundings became a blur. She closed her eyes and continued to battle the branches tearing viciously at her flesh.
Finally, they broke free of the woods and she opened her eyes—to find herself covered in blood. The brutal sting of her injuries stole her breath. It was difficult for her to get her bearings, until they reached a clearing that lay before an abandoned, stone-walled church that had been built high above a concrete monument. The house of worship had been set ablaze when the first renegade demons attacked the village, shortly after it’d been established. Every human who’d sought refuge there that night had perished, trapped inside.
Jade’s pulse raged in her ears as she stared up at the remains of the church. Flagstone steps led to the scorched steeple. Despite them being hidden by drifts, the horse she involuntarily rode reared and then pitched forward, taking the treacherous stairs with her on its back and the wraith floating weightlessly behind her.
She clutched strands from the horse’s mane to keep from falling. When they reached the landing, she had but a moment to look out at the stretch of land that edged the river and the forest beyond, at the base of the ridge where Davian’s castle sat. She screamed for him.
A heartbeat later, the wraith threw her from the horse, tossing her to the stone floor. With the roof burnt, there was a bank of snow coating the hard surface to help break her fall. But her blood stained the pristine white.
Her face and arms were slashed and she tried to concentrate on healing them, but she had no time. The wraith’s fingers wrapped around her neck and he lifted her up, only to launch her across the span of the church where her backside crashed against the remainder of a decayed wall.
Jade’s strangled cry of agony pierced the quiet night as she slumped to the floor again. She felt the blood flow along her nape from a laceration at the base of her head. And from her shoulder blades to her tailbone, it seemed as though every inch of her had been beaten to a pulp.
The pain was nearly crippling, but she attempted to stand. The wraith was not done with her. He hauled her up one more time and slammed her onto a pew made of granite. On her back, with the wind knocked out of her, she couldn’t suck in a breath, much less scream. Until the wraith’s razor-sharp fingertips grazed her skin above her left breast, slicing it open.
A shrill, terror-laden sound erupted from deep within her. The demon hovered over her as he seemed to penetrate tissue in search of her heart. Her eyes crossed. The torturous onslaught was so unbearable, she couldn’t detect a single ounce of her that wasn’t burning or throbbing.
“Jade!”
She heard Davian’s voice in the distance. Too far off for him to help her. Yet she whispered his name.
Her eyelids became too heavy to manage and they closed. A tragic death was not one she’d permitted herself to think of, but somehow, it seemed befitting of the world in which she lived—and the trouble she’d invited into her life months ago.
The wraith’s hand moved from her chest, but she didn’t bother to open her eyes to see what he was up to next. She could barely breathe, let alone fight him off. She wheezed and sputtered, finding it impossible to focus on one particular injury to heal first. They were all too severe, the damage ravaging her straight to the core, it seemed.
However, when the fiery sensations suddenly came from outside her body, her eyes snapped open. The wraith had taken his flame-edged form. His blistering heat melted the snow around her, including the layer on the pew. The water boiled and she howled as it seared her skin through her sweater. Her body convulsed with violent seizures, causing her to fall off the bench.
“Jade!”
Over the ringing in her ears, she heard Davian’s voice again and the unsheathing of a sword. She carefully maneuvered onto her back, finding a patch of snow and a hint of relief on her scalded skin as the cold penetrated the material covering her.
“Focus on healing!”
Staring up at the sky, she realized she had no desire to do as the Demon King commanded. A few minutes more and she’d black out. She was certain she wouldn’t heal enough in her unconscious state to ever wake. There was too much destruction to her body and no way to concentrate on the individual wounds.
That was okay, she decided. Who the hell wanted to a live a life such as this, anyway? With all this trauma and despair…
Jade was about to close her eyes again, to simply give into the pain, when Davian insisted, “You’re stronger than this!”
It sounded as though he was across the church, by the steps. She even heard Thunder snort and whine. The heat cloaking the wraith had diminished, so she assumed the ghost had left her. Seconds later, she got her answer as she heard metal blades clashing—he now went after Davian.
Jade had absolute faith in the Demon King’s skill. He would prevail. Her eyelids dipped. It wouldn’t be much longer before she felt nothing at all. A feeling she suddenly welcomed.
Although… A nagging thought kept her from succumbing to unconsciousness. She didn’t know how Michael had fared—whether or not he was seriously wounded from his run-in with the wraith’s horse. And what if, by some chance, Davian didn’t win this battle? His kingdom might fall—and so too would Ryleigh. Other villages. More humans.
So much was at stake, she couldn’t help but force her lids open once more. She rolled her head to the side and watched through blurry and watery eyes as the fight ensued. She silently prayed Morgan would arrive. And the slayers. They had to have heard her screams piercing the still air.
Yet Davian was on his own with the fire wraith, meeting him blow for blow. Miraculously, with enough power behind his swings to back the ghastly apparition into a corner.
A hint of relief penetrated the darkness devouring her. The king would be fine. And the slayers had likely already found Michael. If he was hurt, they’d take him to the village doctor. He’d survive. She convinced herself of these things, and they provided a small measure of comfort.
As she was about to fade away, she saw a fireball similar to the one she’d witnessed earlier in the woods shoot out from the wraith’s mouth. As the case had been with her, the blaze exploded at the tip of Davian’s sword and bright red radiated all the way down the shaft, to the handle, which then glowed vibrantly despite its elaborate covering.
Davian kept his grip much longer than she had, and the wraith expelled a second fireball. This one proved to be too much for even the Demon King. He dropped his sword and let out a low snarl.
The fire wraith advanced on him with renewed vigor. Panic gripped Jade. She watched hopelessly as Davian lunged for his weapon, but couldn’t reach it before the wraith got close enough to singe him. Davian stumbled backward.
Pulling strength from somewhere beyond her comprehension, Jade managed to sit up. She focused all of her energy on—put every single thought into—lifting the sword.
She didn’t use her psychokinesis often, but her father had taught her to hone the skill. Jade had to push past her pain to concentrate on raising the object. No easy feat as excruciating sensations ripped through her, putting one more strain on her body. But this was a mental effort, not a physical one. She still had control over her mind, even though her limbs vibrated of their own accord, her entire body quaking.
With her gaze on the sword, she made it rise inches from the snow and moved it toward Davian. He seemed to keep one
eye on the demon and one on his weapon.
When it was nearly in his reach, he yelled, “Let it go, Jade!”
This distracted the wraith. At the same time, Davian lurched forward, clasped the hilt and leapt to his haunches, prepared to attack. The move was wicked-fast. It hardly registered in Jade’s mind. But Davian took a full swing at the wraith in the process and the ghost’s eerie screech filled her ears as half of his skeletal forearm and hand flew into the air, severed by Davian’s sword.
The wraith blew over Davian to his restless steed and they soared from the top of the steps to the ground below.
Or perhaps she’d imagined that. Jade’s vision was as fuzzy as her brain.
No matter. Davian straightened and the threat against him was over. She let out a short puff of breath, white in the frosty night, the most she could muster.
Now she could surrender to the pain…
Chapter Seventeen
Davian wanted to pursue the fire wraith, fury burning in his veins over the attack on Jade. He couldn’t leave her, though. He stalked across the church and knelt before her, trying to process all of her visible injuries and wondering how many more there were that he couldn’t see.
Her shoulder was propped against the ledge, her head resting atop the exposed mortar.
She was covered in blood and tattered clothing. The cuts on her face and arms were deep, but her gaping chest wound alarmed him the most. He slipped out of his cloak and gently draped it over her at her waist so as to not displace any of the blood on her chest. Then he cradled the base of her skull with his hand to guide her toward him, only to pull away when a sticky fluid coated his fingers. She bled there too.
“Jade,” he said, swallowing down a lump of fear and emotion. “Sweetheart, you’ve got a nasty cut at the base of your skull. And one above your left breast. Which do you heal first?”
She shook her head, though it was a slight movement. “Neither.”
His gut twisted. “You have to concentrate on the worst one, you told me that.”
“I can’t,” she said, her voice weak and raspy. “I don’t want to.”
“You must.” Panic besieged him. “Jade.” His plea was full of consternation and distress. “You can’t give up. Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did as he asked. Davian tried to lock his gaze with hers, but she was obviously having difficulty seeing him through her tears and the harsh tremors wracking her body.
“I’m tired,” she whispered. “Tired of always fighting this ugliness.” She licked dry lips and then added, “It’s okay. I had some happy times.”
Fat drops slid down her bloodied cheeks. Davian’s heart wrenched. She was a mess. Barely breathing. Clearly in agony. And there was nothing he could do for her? He was the king, for fuck’s sake. And he couldn’t do anything to save her?
He stared at her a moment more, then a thought clicked in his brain.
“The necklace. Jade, where is it?”
A far-off look flitted in her eyes. “I had it on earlier.”
“It’s not around your neck now.” He needed it in order to make her immortal. If he invoked the gift this very moment, she might survive all the physical damage.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a broken breath. “I must’ve lost it in the woods when the wraith had me.”
His eyes squeezed shut. Damn it! There was no time to search for it. He needed to get her to the cottage where it was warm and safe. Then convince her to heal herself. But he wanted her to start with her head, so she could think more cogently.
“Just stay with me, baby. Don’t give up.”
“It’s too much.”
“You’re still alive. Still conscious. You need to focus. Think about the cut right here.” He gently brushed his finger along the edge of the wound. She winced. “It stings, doesn’t it? You can feel exactly where it hurts, right?”
“Yes. Now I can.”
He lightly touched the laceration again and this seemed to help her to register the precise spot.
“Keep at it,” he said in an encouraging voice.
“The throbbing,” she told him, “it’s as though he’s pounding my head against the wall.”
“He’s gone. It’s just you and me. Focus.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked on a sliver of air. “He threatens your kingdom. You should be hunting him, not trying to save me.”
“You mean as much to me as my kingdom does.”
Her gaze slid away. “I’m so sorry I lost your necklace. Please search for it. By my house.”
“Don’t stop looking at me,” he demanded. “We’ll find the necklace. That’s the last thing I want you to worry about. Keep healing.”
Several tense minutes passed and then he felt the ends of her hair dry and thicken. After wiping his hand on his leg to clean it, he tested the wound again, but it was gone. So too was the blood at that particular spot.
Relief washed over him. “You did it.”
But her breathing remained haggard, and the very slow rise and fall of her chest told him her heart rate and pulse had dropped drastically. Her lips had turned purple. She was likely freezing in the snow, yet he couldn’t move her until something was done about her chest.
He wanted to yank off his sweater and press the material to her in order to stop the flow of blood, but he’d wipe too much of it away in doing so. And he’d further aggravate an already sinister injury.
Instead, he lifted her hand to his own chest, slipping it inside the opening of the sweater’s V’d neck. He flattened her cold palm against his skin, over his heart.
“Feel the beats,” he said. “They’re strong and steady. Try to match them with your own heart.”
She appeared exhausted and defeated. As though she honestly didn’t want to continue on. As if she’d merely humored him by healing the head wound.
“Jade,” he said in an insistent voice, his torment resonating—and eating away at his soul. “I want you alive and safe. I want you healthy. Happy. I’ll do whatever I must to make it happen, but you have to assist me in helping you. You have to repair your heart. Please. Do this for me. For you. For both of us. For…Michael and Lisette. Everyone in the village. Hell, even Sheena will stop speaking to me if anything happens to you.”
He heard the desperation and agony in his tone. Neither was manufactured nor exaggerated to persuade her to give into his begging. They were real, raw emotions that would have brought the Demon King to his knees, were he not already on them.
“Jade,” he whispered. “I love you. And I know I don’t deserve you, but…I don’t want to lose you.”
Another short breath fell from her trembling lips. “You don’t play fair. Telling me you love me…”
“I wouldn’t lie about it, you know that. I’ve been very forthcoming with my feelings for you. Right now, you’re devastating me.”
Her gaze slid to his. “I actually can feel your heartbeats. They’re erratic.”
“That’s because I’m completely freaked out.”
She gave a frail laugh—to appease him, no doubt. Large snowflakes began to fall on them and they shared a few tranquil moments as they stared at each other.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her give into the pain.
“Davian.”
He heard Morgan behind him, along with Thunder, who nudged his arm.
Without taking his gaze from Jade, he said to his general, “Get the village doctor and take him to the cottage. She’s going to need help.”
“He can’t help me,” she muttered.
“We’ll see.” To Morgan, he said, “Go.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Davian carefully swept Jade into his arms and she shrieked, shattering whatever serenity their delicate moment had brought her.
“Sorry,” he said as rage ripped through him again over her battered and bloodied state. Thunder seemed as deeply affected by her suffering. He knelt so Davian could easily mount him with Jade nestled against his body.
>
The horse slowly rose, with some effort, given the weight he bore. Then he gingerly crossed the church and descended the steps with caution, though the movements still jarred Jade, as evidenced by her gasps and groans.
They trudged through the snow and Jade shivered against Davian as a frigid wind suddenly howled through the trees. By the time they reached her house, whatever healing she’d accomplished seemed to be negated by the pain she’d experienced from the jostling while in transit. And the cold. Her eyes were closed again and her breathing was shallow. A pained wheezing sound.
Morgan pulled open the door—he and Dr. Schaeffer had already arrived at the cottage.
Davian said, “Get some towels. Lay them over the bed.”
The old physician yanked back the comforter and top sheet, then Morgan spread out the towels. Davian set her on the mattress and the doctor gingerly worked off her boots as Davian tossed aside the cloak covering her and then unbuttoned her sweater, the front of which was nothing but ribbons of cloth from the assault on her.
“Good heavens.” Schaeffer’s gaze fell on the gaping cut on Jade’s chest. “We need more towels to clean her up.”
“No,” Davian said. “She requires the blood on her skin. I’ll explain later.” To Morgan, he said, “Help me get her sweater off.”
The general lifted her hair as Davian eased the material over her shoulders and down her ravaged arms.
“Davian, look at this.”
The grave expression on Morgan’s face made Davian’s stomach roil. Glancing over Jade’s shoulder, Davian fought back more rage. The doctor took a peek as well.
“My God,” Schaeffer said. “Those are second-degree burns, with some bruising around the edges of the red patches and blisters. And it looks as though she has a fractured rib on the right side.”
Davian’s heart sank. The damage was so much worse than he’d imagined. No wonder she’d wanted to give up and let her injuries take her. “She needs morphine,” he asserted.
The doctor went for his medical bag and rooted around until he had the needle and vial in hand. He said, “Her skin’s already damp and chilled from her soaked clothing. That should have helped to cool her back. But I can’t apply a towel at this point, because it could stick to the burns and peel away skin when it’s removed—and the more skin she loses, the more susceptible she’ll be to infection. Unfortunately, I do need her on her back in order to close her chest wound. And so she can rest.”
