by Ava Benton
Her already pale skin went white as a sheet of paper. “Is she…?”
“Alive. I got her out of the car before she went over, but she’s badly injured. Very sick. There’s poison in her blood.”
“Poison?” She looked at Smoke, needing clarification.
“It’s a long story, Alina. We need you to come with us as fast as possible. She’s rotting inside—her words, not mine. She said you would know what to use in a case like this.”
“Where is she?”
“Our home,” I explained. “Not terribly far from here, but far enough. We couldn’t risk bringing her because the drive is too rough, with the main road washed out as it is. You’ll have to get everything together and come with us. Now.”
It was mostly a lie, but I had to give her something she would believe long enough to come with us.
She didn’t hesitate. I had to give her credit for that—I liked a person who could act decisively, and there was never a better time for it than now.
Glass-doored cabinets stood against the walls, holding a number of vials and jars and tubes. Some of them even glowed in deep, jewel tones. I couldn’t imagine what use she would have for so many potions and elixirs. The scent of herbs hung heavy in the room, ready to be used for filling even more jars.
She pulled out a canvas apron and unrolled it until it was flat on an unused table. There were pockets sewn in which she filled with bottle after bottle, jar after jar. Along with them, she packed clean cloths and bandages.
All the while, she muttered under her breath.
“Told her and told her about going off on her own, but would she listen? No. And what happened? She got herself into exactly the sort of situation I’ve been warning her about for years. Driving that piece of shit car around on a mountain.”
Smoke snorted at that, then coughed as if he was trying to cover it up.
“Hurry, please. She was already close to…”
“Death?” Alina whirled around like she did when we first entered the room, a jar of what looked like mud in one hand.
“I didn’t want to use that word, but yes.”
“My stars.” She swallowed hard, but kept moving. “Why did you have to break in like this? Why couldn’t you ring the doorbell?”
“That’s a long story, too, and I’ll be happy to tell you anything you want to know when we’re on our way.”
Yes, I was sure Smoke would be happy as hell to talk to her for hours.
I couldn’t ignore the way his eyes followed her every movement.
“Who are you?” She wrapped up the apron and slid it into a bag which she slung across her back.
“It’s a—”
“Long story. Yes. I know. But I think you should clue me in before I leave my home with you.”
“And we can’t tell you until we leave.” I untied the bandana from around my wrist. “Also, you have to wear this.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.”
“Alina. Please. Your sister is dying, and she needs your help.” Smoke took the bandana from me—wrenched it away, more like—and held it out to her. “She told us where to find you. She told us you’re a healer. And yes, we know you’re a member of the fae. We mean you no harm, but there are those in your world who would wish us harm. And we can work this all out later, but for now, you need to put on the damn blindfold and come with us. Quickly.”
She blinked.
They held each other’s gaze for an endless moment.
“Fine.” She pulled it from his hand and tied it over her eyes and around her head.
Smoke examined her closely, probably more closely than he needed to, to be sure she couldn’t see. Finally, he shrugged.
“All right. Come on. You’ll have to go down the wall on one of our backs.”
“I’ll what?”
It didn’t matter if she was skeptical. I took her by the hand and led her to the window.
“We need to leave.” I did the deciding for her, turning my back and wrapping her arms around my neck before doing the same with her legs around my waist. “There’s no doubt the two of you are related,” I grumbled as I climbed out the window.
“What’s… that… mean?” she asked through gasps for air. Her heart beat wildly against my back as I climbed down the tower wall.
“She never stops asking questions and stalling, either.”
We were on the ground in no time at all, but I couldn’t let her go with the blindfold still on.
“Hold on tight, now.”
She did as I asked, to the point where I wondered if she was trying to strangle me. She would once she knew what I had done to Jasmine.
“How did you do that?” she asked as Smoke and I ran through the woods.
“Do what?”
“Climb up and down like it was nothing? And with me on your back?”
“You don’t weigh very much,” I pointed out.
“I don’t respond to flattery, so don’t waste your time.”
Smoke snorted again. “I’ll tell you about it in the car. I promise. So long as you don’t touch that blindfold.”
“I won’t.”
“Your sister’s life depends on it.”
“I said, I won’t.”
And she wouldn’t. Her heart beat faster than ever at the mention of Jasmine. She loved her sister, was devoted to her.
Good thing. We would need that.
I helped her into the back seat and rolled my eyes when Smoke climbed in beside her instead of driving, as he had to get us there.
“I guess I’ll drive,” I muttered, getting behind the wheel and hitting the gas the moment the engine turned over. It was better that way—my brother drove like an old woman most of the time. He’d never go fast enough for me.
“All right. I’m in the car. Can you tell me now who you are and why I’m wearing this damn thing?”
“Promise you won’t flip out,” Smoke implored.
“You’re asking for a lot of promises.”
“We’re dragons,” I announced, cutting the wheel hard to the left as I turned onto the road leading to the mountains.
A dark road, little traveled, perfect for me to tear down at breakneck speed. I heard Alina and Smoke grunt as they crashed together behind me.
“You’re what?” she shrieked. “And slow down a little! You’ll kill us before we get there!”
“Dragon shifters,” I clarified. “And I didn’t know your sister was fae before I tried to heal her with my blood.”
“You what?” Her voice pierced my ears, just like the accusation in it pierced my soul. “I thought you said you saved her!”
“I did, but she had a gaping shoulder wound. You’ll see what I mean when you get there. I was afraid of infection. I didn’t know she wasn’t human—you didn’t know what we were when you first saw us, did you?”
“Dragon blood. No wonder she’s dying. Go faster!”
“I thought you wanted him to slow down!” Smoke shouted over the roar of the engine.
“That was before I knew what you did to her! Go! Go!”
I went.
It took the better part of two hours for Smoke and I to get to the mansion. It only took me forty-five minutes to get back up the mountain and into the cave.
Smoke led a still-blindfolded Alina while I ran ahead.
Please be alive please be alive please be alive.
The dragon in me was silent for the first time in forever while my own silent prayer ran on repeat.
Miles was in there, and he didn’t look hopeful. But he didn’t try to stop me from rushing in, either, which told me she was still alive.
And she was. Barely, but she was. Her chest rose up and down slowly, so slowly. But she was breathing.
“We’re back,” I whispered, stroking the side of her face before I could stop myself. “Jasmine, I brought Alina to you. She’ll help you.”
“She’s been muttering to herself for hours,” Miles murmured from the doorway. “Dripping sweat, too. But I
don’t think she was ever conscious.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” I whispered, still touching her face.
She was hot as the hood of my truck on an August afternoon. I could only hope she wasn’t already too far gone.
“Here she is.” Smoke guided Alina into the cell before removing her blindfold.
She blinked hard as her eyes adjusted, then looked around. When she saw Jasmine, she let out a cry of dismay and fell to her knees, going through her bag to pull out the potions.
“I can’t believe you did this to her,” she spat, glancing at me with hate in her eyes.
“Do you think you can heal her?”
“I’ll do my very best. But I’ll need you to help me.”
“I’ll do anything.”
She nodded. “You’re damn right, you’ll do anything. You nearly killed my sister—and you still might have, at that.”
10
Jasmine
“Jasmine? Wake up. It’s me. I’m here.”
I could hear Alina—but was she real? I’d spent hours going in and out. Or was it minutes? There was no way of knowing. Time was something I had lost the ability to keep track of. I tried to open my eyes, but it was no use.
“I don’t even know if she can hear me,” Alina whispered.
I heard a lot of movement, and I knew she would be rushing around the cell—lighting candles, checking on her supplies, making sure she had enough of what she needed before she got started. I could see her in my mind’s eye as clearly as if I were watching.
I licked my lips and struggled to get air into my lungs, which felt like they didn’t want to expand anymore. They were giving up.
“I… hear… you…” I croaked out.
My voice was barely audible and reminded me of nails on a chalkboard. Harsh, cringe-worthy.
“Hold on,” Alina urged. She took my hand. “Squeeze. Show me you still have some strength left.”
I tried, but it was no use. Just touching her was painful. I let out a weak whimper, and she let go.
“You barely brought me back with enough time,” she snapped.
I wondered who she was snapping at. Which one of them. Did they both come in with her? Were the rest of them there? Did they all want to see me die? Would it be entertainment for them? I whimpered again.
“It’s all right, Jas,” my sister whispered.
“Alina… please…”
“I’m going to take care of you,” she replied. There were tears in her voice. “Just hold on a little longer, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.” She whispered instructions and feet shuffled back and forth once she did.
She was angry. Beyond angry. Enraged. She saw what Pierce’s blood had done to me. If I’d had the strength, I would’ve urged her to hold onto her temper long enough to save me.
“Jasmine? I’m here.” Pierce’s voice, close to my ear. “I want you to know I didn’t intend this. Please, know that I didn’t. I wanted to save you.”
“I know.” I did know. I could feel it. He thought he was doing the right thing, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
It wasn’t his fault that we couldn’t tell each other’s true nature at first glance.
“Here. Drink this. For the pain.”
I couldn’t have opened my mouth faster.
Alina touched the edge of a small bottle to my lips, and a cool, almost minty liquid poured out into my mouth. I swallowed carefully, my throat swollen, and within moments the pain faded away. It was there, and then it wasn’t. I would have wept if I could’ve managed it.
There was a reason why I had to drink the painkiller first, and I knew it a minute later.
“I need you to prop her up,” she instructed. “Put your knees under her shoulders. I have to get closer to the wound.”
If it weren’t for that blessed, beautiful numbness, I would’ve felt every bit of, and it might have been what finally pushed me over the edge into the great beyond.
As it was, I still felt minor discomfort when Pierce lifted me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered when I winced.
I only shook my head to show him it didn’t matter. I rested in his lap, with the smell of him all around me and the warmth of his body under me.
“Hold the candles closer,” Alina muttered. “Damn, if she wasn’t in such bad shape, I would’ve moved her someplace else.”
She touched my shoulder, and I barely made out the sensation of her applying a foul-smelling paste to my wound.
I turned my face away with a shudder.
“It’s all right,” Pierce said, stroking my hair. “You’ll be better soon. Just relax as best you can for now.”
“That’s right, Jasmine. Listen to him.” Alina’s voice was as soft and seductive as a lover’s kiss, and I knew in the back of my mind that this was all part of the healing even as the rest of me sank willingly under her spell.
She was comfort and calm and peace. She was an end to pain.
All I had to do was follow the sound of her voice while Pierce’s strong-but-gentle touch lulled me. It was so good to be without pain again. I had almost forgotten there was such a feeling.
11
Jasmine
When I woke up, time had passed. A lot of it. Enough so that when my eyes opened, and I looked around, I was no longer staring up at the ceiling of a hand-carved stone cell. The ceiling was a warm white, with lightbulbs mounted inside. They gave off a warm glow. It was pleasant, comforting. And completely foreign.
I turned my head to the side. A bed. I was in an actual bed. A comfortable one, too. It cradled me the way I imagined a cloud would.
The room around me was much bigger than the cell, and completely modern. A flat-screen TV on the wall, a sound system mounted underneath. On the wall beside the door was a screen which gave readouts of all sorts of information: weather, the date, the time, the temperature inside the room. The walls were painted in a soft gray, while the bedding was deep blue and white.
I ran my hands over it, relishing its softness.
I realized I was moving without pain. It didn’t hurt at all. Was I still drugged? I had to be, unless I’d slept for an entire week. I squinted carefully and concentrated on reading the date and time. If memory served, the accident took place on a Wednesday morning. According to the screen, it was Thursday afternoon. A long sleep, for sure, but not enough time for me to have healed completely.
I was wearing a thin, cotton shirt which was at least four sizes too large and practically floated around me. It made checking out my shoulder easier—it practically hung out of the loose neck hole.
I could hardly believe how quickly my muscles had started to repair. Skin covered the wound again, too. There was a lot of discoloration, but it was no longer rotting. I was sure I had never been so relieved to see anything.
A slow, gentle stretch told me there was still a lot of discomfort and tightness, but I could move without nearly passing out from the pain. It was an improvement.
I got up slowly and walked to the display on the wall. Was there a lock on there somewhere? How was I supposed to get out of the room? And where was this room, anyway? Not a hospital, certainly. It would’ve made sense if I were still in the caves with Pierce, but this room was a pretty serious departure from the cell I remembered.
There was an open door to my right—curiosity drew me to it and through it into a bathroom even nicer than those at the mansion.
A set of marble steps led to the sunken tub with its whirlpool jets, surrounded by candles. Four glass walls outlined a shower stall large enough for a half-dozen people to use at once. The floor was comfortably warm under my feet. Heated? A nice touch.
I couldn’t still be in the cave. No way was there anything this luxurious under that mountain. Even so, there was something about the place that I couldn’t put my finger on. Something off. I stood still and held my breath to listen closely.
And I heard it. A subtle, gentle dripping. Water was dripping and trickling throug
h the walls, the ceiling, even under my feet. There was a groaning, too, the sound of tons of rock pressing down on another few tons of earth.
I’d heard it in the cell, when I was so sure I was going to die.
I was in the same place—just not the same area.
It felt like a stupid thing to do, but I had to do something. “Hello?” I turned in a circle, eyes searching my surroundings. No cameras, no speakers. No handle on the door. So there was little chance of anybody watching me, but no chance of getting out of here.
Little hairs stood straight up on the back of my neck. Had Alina saved my life only for me to spend the rest of it locked in a very comfortable prison?
There was noise on the other side of the bedroom door. Panic pushed a breathless scream up through my throat—I was just about to open my mouth and let it out when the door slid open, and a smiling Alina walked in.
“I didn’t think you’d be up and around so soon!” She came to me, took my face in her hands and peered closely. “You look good. Your eyes are clear, your color’s back.”
“Where—where are we?” I whispered, closing my hands over hers.
Lines creased her smooth forehead as her brows knitted together. “We’re still with them.”
I didn’t need to ask who she meant.
“You’re staying here, too?”
“Sure. I have the room next door.” She grinned. “This is pretty sweet, huh? Who would guess they lived like this?”
I didn’t want to hear about it. “When will we be allowed to leave?”
Her smile faded. “You should be more concerned with getting better.”
“I feel fine.”
“I know you feel that way, but that’s because I’ve been dripping tonic down your throat every four hours since I got here. Your last dose was…” She checked out the screen beside the door. “It’s only been two hours, give or take. You’ll start feeling different in another hour or so.”
“Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired,” I groaned.
