Reaper (Dragon Prophecies Book 1)

by Hickory Mack

  “I thought you didn’t put any stock in manifestation,” she countered, and he shrugged.

  “This seems like one of those times when any positivity is a good thing.”

  Elsie managed to sit still for three minutes before getting Wren to put her back on the ground. After that, she paced circles around the back yard, eventually adding the front yard as well. Frida followed after her, the cat staying out of mischief for once. She simply kept Elsie company.

  Wren and Mouro took turns accompanying her as shows of support. Neither of them tried persuading her into talking, and after an hour Moscow came out of the cabin with coffee.

  “How is he?” Elsie asked immediately, waiting for Mouro to take a mug and hand it to her, rather than taking it from the wyvern herself. She didn’t want to risk any accidental skin contact. The last thing she needed at the moment was a new bond.

  “His vital signs are good. They started the removal process, and everything is going well so far,” he said. Elsie could feel Mouro and Wren’s relief on top of her own. They wanted Saint to survive just as much as she did, even if it was for different reasons. Moscow set the tray at his feet and looked at each of them curiously.

  “I realized there were some pretty common sense questions I didn’t ask you guys. Why do you want to give that man to Lady Chiori?” he asked.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” Elsie answered, glancing at Wren. She was afraid he’d rescind his invitation if he knew the truth. She wanted to use the witch for her own personal gain, and that might not sit well with her subjects. That didn’t even broach the subject of her part in kidnapping and containing their Lord.

  “We have at least another hour and a half. I’m a pretty open-minded guy, but I’m sure you can understand that I have to protect my Lady.”

  “Tell him,” Wren encouraged. “If what you have to say changes his mind, this wasn’t the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

  “Okay.”

  Moscow listened to everything Elsie had to say. He didn’t interrupt, but the expressions on his face changed with how he felt about her story as she told it. She didn’t make any excuses for what she’d done, simply and truthfully telling it as it had happened. Elsie explained what she’d seen of the girl while they were both in the compound together and described her interactions with the fox. By the time she finished speaking, the wyvern looked contemplative rather than flat-out angry, which he had every right to be.

  “You aren’t wrong to think Lady Chiori and her incubus could break your curse. There isn’t anything those two can’t do when they put their minds to it,” he said after thinking for a while. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful that you helped her, and I know she wants Angus Cornick. The problem is your involvement in taking Lord Makkai. There are a lot of things my Lady will forgive in this world, but in losing him, she very nearly lost her mind. The truth is, the odds of you entering our territory, telling that story, and leaving with your lives are low.”

  Elsie nodded her head. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Will you give us an introduction or not?” Mouro asked. “The odds of survival may be low, but the odds of her living for long with this curse are zero. So, low odds look pretty damned good from where I’m standing.”

  Moscow looked away, his face pained. The wyvern didn’t want to answer, and Elsie didn’t blame him. They were asking a lot of him, and all but one of them were strangers.

  Cross chose that moment to exit the cabin, a stunned look on his face. For several long seconds, Elsie forgot how to breathe, but when his eyes met hers, he graced her with the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.

  “You need to get in here,” he called. “He’s awake!”

  Chapter 50

  Elsie ran across the yard and threw herself through the door. Her eyes flew to the table where Saint was still in his hound form, but his ears were flat against his head and his eyes were open! She hurried to his side, ignoring the medical team cleaning up the area, looking even more exhausted now than they had earlier.

  “Saint!” Elsie cried, smushing her face into his fur. “You’re going to be okay!”

  A faint acknowledgment came through their bond as his end of it finally started to open and give her access to him. As his mind cleared, she felt nothing but his astonishment. Saint struggled to get up, but she set a hand on his shoulder.

  “Stay still! You’ve been out of it for so long, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Instead of listening, he struggled harder, pulling himself into a half-sitting position, staring at her with big brown eyes. “Wait!”

  Saint shook all over, but he forced the change back into his human form. It took a lot longer than usual, his bones reforming and shrinking, his muscles twisting and reshaping. Elsie nearly panicked. He’d heal a lot faster in his hound form, and there was currently a patched together hole in his skull.

  In his human form, he held his head for a moment, and Elsie thought he was going to puke, but he held it together. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes. Grabbing Elsie, he pulled her in for an embrace as he let out a harsh sob.

  ‘I couldn’t feel you anymore. You were gone, and there was nothing left. They told me you were dead. I didn’t- I didn’t want to live in this world without you. Mistress, I thought you were really gone.’

  Elsie’s heart stammered in her chest, and her whole body went cold before flushing hot with rage. She held him tight, absorbing his silent tears. ‘They lied to you. I’m here. They’ll never be able to hurt you again. The compound is gone, and we’ll take down all the others as well. There’s no reason to hold back anymore. Nothing will ever separate us again.’

  She climbed up onto the table to be closer to him, and he dropped his face into the crook of her neck, her tears streaming down as his entire body trembled. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured aloud, her voice cracking with the weight of her grief.

  A comforting hand touched her shoulder, offering her support. Cross kissed the top of her head. All of them were touching their bonds, and though she realized her emotions were affecting them, she couldn’t hold back.

  Everything had gone quiet around them. All the surfaces except for the table itself were sanitized, and the hunter medics were put back in their cages, just as much to protect them from angry demons as to keep them from running off. Moscow cleared his throat.

  “We’ll give you guys some privacy,” he said, but Elsie shook her head.

  “Somebody needs to guard Cornick, or I’m going to kill him,” she growled. Saint stiffened in her arms. He hadn’t known the bastard was in the room with them.

  “What did he tell you, reaper?” Wren asked gently.

  “He told Saint I was dead. Since he was drugged so heavily he couldn’t feel our bond, he believed it.”

  A low growl reverberated through the room, and Elsie looked up to see Mouro crossing the room. He banged on the door of Cornick’s cage, rattling the structure of the whole cabin. She was about to scramble up and stop him when he bent his head and whispered something far too low for her to hear. Whatever he said, it was satisfying to watch Cornick’s pasty skin go ghostly white.

  The wolverine’s magic filled the air, and a mist surrounded him. The floor around his feet had turned black as night. Two of his dolls crawled out from inside of it, looking every bit as eerie and undead as she remembered. Elsie recognized one of them as Lithia, and she realized that one must be a favorite. They reached out their hands, yearning to touch him, but they stopped inches from actually making contact.

  “Keep an eye on this one for me, would you? You can feed on him if he gets too close to the bars,” he allowed, and Cornick cringed back into his cage. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, realizing any pleas for mercy would either be ignored or turned down.

  Elsie turned back to Saint, satisfied that Cornick wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t about to start anything with Mouro’s creepy dolls. Her wolfhound demon cupped her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his t
humbs, saying everything he needed to say with the expression in his beautiful eyes.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. He closed the inches between them, kissing her lips tenderly.

  ‘Why does my head feel like I’ve been kicked by a mule?’ he asked. Even his mental voice sounded pained and utterly exhausted. The effects of the meds to keep him asleep for the surgery hadn’t fully worn off yet.

  ‘They put a chip in your head. Thanks to Mouro and Cross finding these people, we were able to have it taken out. It’s been over a week, Saint.’

  His eyes widened, and he reached up to touch his head, but Elsie took his hand. “You’re not supposed to touch it,” she sighed. “You should have stayed in your hound form, so you’d heal faster.”

  ‘I needed to hold you,’ he argued, then swung his legs over the side of the table.

  ‘Don’t even try to get up. You can barely sit up!’

  “Whoa, bad idea. Stay where you are for now,” Moscow said, coming closer. Saint looked up at him suspiciously.

  ‘Who is this?’ he questioned.

  ‘He’s the guy who invited us to go meet the witches,’ Elsie replied. Saint’s eyes turned to her, and he gave her the tiniest smile.

  ‘That’s amazing news. Not only are you not dead, but you’ve been given a chance to stay that way.’

  ‘We just have to hope he doesn’t change his mind. His Lord is the fox, and he’s understandably torn about the idea of bringing the woman who stole him away back to meet him.’ Elsie inwardly cringed, glancing at the wyvern over her mate’s shoulder.

  He caught her staring and held her gaze for a moment before looking away.

  “We should take him back to the hostel until he’s functional,” Cross said, but Wren shook his head, looking from Elsie to the wyvern.

  “They’re right. He should be kept here until we’re sure he’s recovering properly.” The spirit approached slowly, giving Elsie time to acknowledge his coming closer to her injured mate. “Is it alright if I touch him? I want to examine his head to make sure he’s healing.”

  ‘That’s Wren, isn’t it? When the hell did he get back? He’s just as creepy as ever.’ Saint gave the spirit a withering glare before muttering his approval and dropping his forehead against Elsie’s shoulder. Wren still didn’t make a move, waiting for Elsie’s approval. He could sense how territorial she was just then, even toward her other mates. She put a hand on the back of Saint’s neck and nodded.

  “Good girl,” Wren murmured. Even with the sizable bald patch where they’d shaved his head, it took a few seconds for the spirit to find the right spot in Saint’s very full head of curls.

  Steeling herself for how bad it would be, Elsie snuck a look, her whole body cringing with sympathy pain. His scalp was bright red, but it had already stitched itself back together. Wren didn’t touch it. His hand hovered over the spot, and he closed his eyes, concentrating and using his magic to look into Saint’s surgical site.

  “They did a good job with opening his skull—clean cut, no fractures, minor swelling where the chip was removed. As long as you’re careful, you should be fully healed in a couple of days. I am definitely willing to help speed the process along for you,” he offered.

  ‘If it’ll stop the pounding in my head, then yes.’

  “Will you? His head is hurting, and we’d both feel a lot better if he healed. I can help too,” Elsie offered.

  “You can help by keeping him occupied,” Wren appeased her. “You need to lie down while I work. It’ll be easier on both of us.”

  Saint held Elsie even tighter, and she kissed his forehead before slipping off the table to stand by his side. He lay down, and she took his hand, kissing it before holding it against her chest.

  “I’m so relieved you’re okay,” she said softly, and Mouro snickered behind her.

  “She’s not kidding. She cried over you every day,” he said. Saint looked up at her with a guilty expression, and she scowled. If the wolverine had been standing any closer to her, she’d have smacked him.

  “Wouldn’t it be worse if I hadn’t cried? How would you feel if you woke up after a week to find out I never shed a tear?” she retaliated. Saint squeezed her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mistress—’

  ‘Don’t even start. None of this is your fault. It’s Cornick’s. I never want to hear of you blaming yourself for any of this,’ she commanded, and Saint sighed before making a little whimpering sound. Wren had started working on his wound, and though Elsie could feel that the spirit was trying to be gentle, knitting bone back together was still a painful process.

  ‘Will we be leaving to meet the witches when this is over? I’d feel a lot better if we put distance between ourselves and this place,’ Saint said.

  “You should take a day to rest first. You’ve been through a traumatic experience,” she said out loud for the benefit of those not privy to their private conversation.

  “She’s right,” Cross agreed. “They almost killed you. Frankly, it’s amazing you survived the experience. Wren worked for hours just to save your organs, and that’s before he put all your bones back together.”

  Saint looked studiously at the ceiling, his mouth firm. ‘I may have resisted when they told me you were dead. I didn’t want to believe them, so I fought to get free. They didn’t like that too much.’

  Magic touched Elsie’s eyes, and they glowed with an ethereal fire.

  “Easy, reaper. You’re supposed to be keeping him calm, remember?” Wren chastised, his eyes still closed.

  Moscow crossed his arms as he watched what they were doing. He didn’t seem bored. He actually looked half amused. Frida sat resolutely at his feet, and any time he moved more than a step, she followed, rubbing up against his legs.

  “I’m guessing you all haven’t been mates for very long? You sound like some of the guys mated to my Lady. Bickering and testing each other’s boundaries.” He grinned.

  “You’ve guessed correctly,” Mouro answered. “Our bonds may be new, but they’re all sealed.

  “Forgive my directness, Lord Pascal, but that is some personal information I didn’t need to hear,” Moscow said seriously, raising an eyebrow. He very carefully avoided looking in Elsie’s direction.

  “Why would you tell him that? If we could change the subject, that would be great.” She pressed a hand over her eyes. Frost sneezed at her, and she could swear she could hear the bastard laughing in her head.

  ‘Are you sure he’s one of us?’ Saint questioned.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Damn.’

  “I’m still surprised Lord Makkai let you leave,” Pascal said suspiciously. “You aren’t a runaway, are you? I can’t be a part of assisting your disobedience to your Lord.”

  “My Lord didn’t give me permission to leave. In fact, I’m not even sure if he knows I’m gone yet,” Moscow admitted. “He’s been too preoccupied to worry about what I’m up to. I cleared it through Ichio.” Wren’s eyes lifted at the mention of the forest spirit.

  “The forest spirit is granting permission for demons to abandon their Lords? I’ll be ensuring my people know better than to undermine my power using such underhanded tactics as soon as we return. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Pascal questioned.

  “Not at all. I had already asked my Lord before we even left here, and he allowed it under the condition that our house was put back together after the upheaval that happened when we were gone. When the house looked perfect, he was nowhere to be found. It’s not like I snuck out.” Moscow shrugged. “Besides, respectfully, it’s Lord Makkai I answer to, not you.”

  “The spirit is alright?” Wren asked.

  “More or less,” Moscow answered, his eyes narrowing. “Were you there too? Did all of you participate in kidnapping my Lord?”

  “Watch your tongue, pup,” Pascal growled, but the wyvern matched his glare.

  “I did not participate,” Wren answered. “I was firmly against it. I found your forest spirit in a te
rrible state. He was gravely injured, so I healed him.”

  Moscow dipped his head in a practiced bow. “Please accept my apologies. Ichio is a beloved figure in my home. I’m sure I can speak on Lord Makkai’s behalf when I thank you for helping him.”

  “My reaper did not wish to participate either,” he said, closing his eyes once more and returning his concentration to Saint.

  “That’s what she explained, but it’s like my Lord said, there’s always a choice.” Moscow’s mismatched eyes lifted to hers. “You have no idea the pain you caused Lady Chiori. Or the pain of those around her who love her like family. I helped raise that girl. She’s my student, and I’ve seen her go through absolute hell. What you did was wrong.”

  “That’s not—” Cross started, but Elsie cut him off.

  “You’re right. I didn’t think about those kinds of things when deciding to take part in this. In my head, it was either take this one demon who was terrorizing human nests, or hunt hundreds, so I made the decision based on pure numbers. How could I hurt the smallest number of people?” she said. “Your Lord was also right. Even though I made the choice that would impact the smallest number of people, it was selfish.”

  “You’re right about that. Do you have even the slightest idea of what happens when there’s a power vacuum the size of Lord Makkai? We saw the devastation when we left our territories. The loss of lives of humans, demons, and hunters alike was astounding. Our house fell, and we lost good people in the coup, including two of my Lady’s teachers. Twenty-five demons were killed for their betrayals. People I’ve known for centuries, gone. Because of your choice,” Moscow said bitterly.

  “All I can do at this point is apologize. I could have chosen not to hunt any demons at all, sacrificing myself instead. I’ve thought about it a lot since then, and I know it’s the decision I should have made.” Elsie chewed on the inside of her lip. Anger came from every single one of her bonds, and even Frost growled at her, but she was telling the truth. “I have no excuses for what I did, other than a fear of death. Stupid, right? Afraid of my own mother? Ridiculous.”