Haileon stalked across the room, his dark gaze on her. “My once faithful soldier has strayed.”
Fallon inhaled, intent on protecting the man she loved. Orbs ignited in her hands. “He was never your soldier.”
“Oh, but he is.”
“Never,” she spat.
She tried to extend her arm toward the demon, but Haileon wagged a finger. Instead, a vice gripped her throat, the abrupt attack sending one fireball careening off to the right while the other exploded next to her. Fire engulfed her, the pain searing through her skin to singe her bones. She opened her mouth in a silent scream.
The demon flicked his fingers and tossed her across the room. Fallon tumbled through the air and slammed into the glass wall, panes shattering beneath the impact.
“I’ll deal with you in a moment,” Haileon growled and released her.
She crashed to the concrete, bashing the side of her head against the edge of a table on her way down. Sparks flashed behind her eyes, and she gasped for breath. Exhaustion anchored her to the floor.
Breathe…. the raspy voice whispered.
Haileon’s attention shifted to Zane. “So weak.”
Feel the energy threads….
Fallon blinked, tried to clear her mind. Energy threads?
The demon jerked Zane up, dangling his form before him, nose to nose. He snorted. “Ah, I see now. My soldier has already fucked the bitch. I can smell her on you.”
“Mine,” Zane growled, his pain-riddled eyes becoming fierce.
Haileon laughed. “Oh, yes. You may play with her. We both will.”
The beast tilted his head and flicked out his tongue, the forked tip sliding in a seductive caress along Zane’s jaw. Where the demon licked, trailing his slick slime over Zane’s skin, twin lines of blood bubbled to the surface in its wake.
“Mmm.” Haileon smirked.
Zane glared at the beast and said nothing.
The need to help him shot through Fallon with a ferocity she didn’t realize she possessed, but she couldn’t calm her racing heart enough to slow her breath and control her gift. Instead, she scanned the area around her for a weapon. Spying a coiled garden hose nearby, she fell back on what she knew. She grabbed the end, unscrewed the spray nozzle, and fashioned a lasso. God, she’d done it so many times she could do it with her eyes closed.
“I know you still have seven days, Zane,” Haileon said, his voice that of an eager child. “But I must taste you now.”
Reaching down, he peeled back his scaly breastplate and pressed Zane against the translucent skin caging the swirling sparks of light inside. Zane screamed in agony. Haileon bellowed in ecstasy.
There was no hope of lassoing Zane and jerking him from the demon’s clutches. So Fallon sought some other way to break them apart. Adrenaline propelling her past exhaustion, she threw the makeshift lasso. Looping the top of a heavy Corinthian column near the beast, she threaded the opposite end around a steel support pole where the glass had shattered on either side. Wrapping the hose around her hand, she leveraged her foot on the wall and pulled with all her strength.
The column rocked. Glancing at her target, she spotted Zane shaking in the demon’s grip. Was the beast consuming his soul now? Fear compelled her to yank the hose again.
The column toppled over, the heavy concrete smashing into Haileon. The demon roared his displeasure and released Zane, who slid to the concrete in a lifeless heap. Fallon’s heart stuttered at the sight. Had she lost already?
She skittered to his side. With trembling fingers, she searched for a pulse but found none.
Haileon rounded on her. “Now, I will have you.”
“No.” Fallon pushed to her feet, rage coursing through her. “Now, I will have you.”
She jerked her hands out, twin fireballs springing to life. She huffed out, willed her anger and pain into the fiery orbs, and flicked her fingers at the demon. They slammed into him, one striking his still exposed chest. The impact sent him sprawling to the floor where he struggled to cover his translucent compartment. In an instant, she originated two more fireballs and hurled them at him. One missed, exploding on the concrete while the other impacted his leg. Howling, he rose to defend himself. Fallon slapped two orbs together above her head and threw the resultant huge, fiery ball at the beast, sending him stumbling back into the pentagram.
The threads…. the raspy voice commanded. Reach!
Rage twisted with loss, and Fallon reached above her head, stretching her fingers toward the dark sky above. Her nails tingled with energy. Jagged lines of liquid fire danced down her arms to gather at her chest, stealing her breath. Her vision blurred with the weight of power writhing within her. She balled her hands, drawing them down to her sides as white fire crested along her bones, plated her veins with hot gold.
Haileon sprang to his feet, a hideous grin on his hellish face. He twitched his wrist in attack.
Fallon shoved her hands toward the demon, her fingers spread and pointing. White, liquid fire leapt from her fingertips while jagged razors sliced through her veins and dug at her bones. She screamed her release. Lightning flashed across the room to envelop Haileon in an electric cage of energy that danced over his metallic scales and burned the satanic symbols on his head and neck.
With a thunderous roar, the demon disintegrated into a burst of smoke and ashes, destroyed at last. Justice for you, Zane.
But still, the threads of lightning writhed inside Fallon. Throwing her head back, she lifted her hands toward the sky and released the power consuming her. The ceiling exploded, but instead of deadly shards, droplets of molten glass rained around her, splashing on the concrete, hissing as the heated silica cooled.
Fallon…remember me…. came the familiar, crackly voice in her ear.
The energy she wielded ripped at her, compelling her to give up the pain. To forego the bonds of the earth. To follow the energy threads into the night sky and, hopefully, meet Zane somewhere in the afterlife.
Heart aching at the loss of the man she loved, her vision darkened. But Erik, Amber, and Wyatt still need me. Knees buckling, she dropped to the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zane opened his eyes to see Erik leaning over him. His chest was killing him, and a ferocious throbbing accosted his head. What the hell happened?
“Fallon?” He sat up quickly, knocking Erik back a little. “Where is she?”
“Easy, Zane. I just jump-started your heart. No small feat with the use of only one arm.” He pointed to the center of the room. “She’s right over there. She––”
He spotted Fallon crumpled on the floor and shoved Erik aside. Jumping to his feet, he ran to her and slid to his knees at her side. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Fallon? Fallon, can you hear me?” When she didn’t respond, he glanced at Erik. “What the hell’s wrong with her?”
“Zane, chill! It’s just the effect of using her powers the way she did. It happened the last time.” Erik strode across the room to his side. “She told me that the battle zapped all her energy, and she’d had to sleep it off.”
“I was there when she used her powers last time. She walked into the restaurant. She was fine.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “And when she was practicing, it didn’t seem to affect her at all that I could tell.”
“Yeah, well, you missed the show. I suspect the more she uses her powers, the more she is able to channel her energy. But she brought something new to the game tonight.” Erik pulled a patio chair over and collapsed onto it. “I came to just before that thing released you. It had you, man, killing you. Pretty damn painfully, too. Hell, you had no pulse for a minute there.” He shook his head. “Thank God we killed it. That’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”
Zane jerked toward Erik. “You killed him?”
“Fallon did. When she got him to release you, she ran to you and apparently didn’t find a pulse. She went crazy. Unleashed lightning bolts on that demon’s ass. It was the most amazing t
hing I’d ever seen.” He shifted his gaze to his sister, admiration clear in his eyes. “She kinda like disintegrated the bastard into thin air. Incredible.”
Lightning bolts? Zane slid his hands underneath Fallon and lifted her to him. “What happened after?”
“She just fell to the floor. I checked her for a pulse and breath sounds before I checked you. They were fine. Good thing I’m trained in CPR, buddy, or you’d be a goner.”
Zane stood, Fallon in his arms. “Thanks. I owe you. I’m going to take her to her room. You need to go find Wyatt. He went flying through that window and could be seriously hurt, so don’t move him. I’ll be right back down as soon as I get Fallon settled.”
Erik stood, cradling his arm. “Will do.” He headed for the door.
Zane frowned. “What happened to you?”
“I think my arm’s broken.” He glanced down and flexed his fingers. “At least it felt that way fifteen minutes ago. Damn thing’s swollen up like a balloon and throbs like a mother, but nothing like it did when I first came to.”
He nodded. “I’ll check it out when I get back.”
Zane headed down the hall to the main house and took the stairs up to Fallon’s room. Placing her gently on the bed, he took the opportunity to check her over for injuries. Dark bruises marred her skin, and blood matted her hair where a nasty bump had swelled on the side of her head. Taking care, he checked for a gash in case she needed stitches but found only a small cut. Assuring himself there were no other injuries, he covered her with a quilt, sat down next to her, and took her hand.
Seeing her on the floor and not knowing what had happened to her had really rattled him. “I will never allow you to put yourself in that situation for me again, Fallon. Never. I’d die first.” He softly kissed her fingers. “I love you, you stubborn fool.” Laying her hand on the blanket, he stood and bent to press his lips to her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered again.
“I love you, too.”
Her voice was soft, so faint he almost hadn’t heard her murmured words. Her eyes remained closed, her face relaxed, and he smiled. At least when her defenses were down, she knew the truth. So did he. She loved him.
Leaving her door open, he bounded down the stairs and ran out the door to the terrace where Wyatt would have landed. He found him on the ground on his back with Erik sitting next to him. He approached them and knelt across from Erik. Wyatt’s gaze darted to him, his eyes blinking several times, but his breath was raspy and labored.
Zane performed a visual scan of the injured man. “How is he?”
“He was out cold when I got here. Just woke up.” The depth of Erik’s concern for his brother rang in each word he spoke. “His neck and forehead have some pretty deep gouges. I haven’t moved him to see anything else.”
Zane met Wyatt’s gaze. “How’re you feeling?”
He groaned and rolled his eyes. “My back is on fire. Ribs hurt, too,” he said between pants. “Neck and spine are okay, I think. Help me up, so I can get off this damn ground.”
Zane frowned, wanting to leave him where he lay. Having a broken rib puncture a lung wouldn’t be good.
He prodded his fingers beneath Wyatt’s back, checking for himself, but didn’t feel any awkward protrusions. When he removed his hand, though, he found his fingers sticky with blood. Okay, that wasn’t good. Even though he would rather leave him where he was, he needed to take a look at his injuries and find where all the blood was coming from.
“Okay, let’s take it slow though.” Zane eased him into a sitting position and scanned his back.
Wyatt’s shirt had been ripped down the right side and was soaked crimson. Damn, it looks bad. Zane moved the tattered strips aside so he could examine the area below. What he found sent a mix of relief and surprise rippling through him.
“You took one helluva trip getting out here.” Zane pressed his fingers along the ugly wound. He shook his head and glanced at Wyatt, who peered over his shoulder at him with wide eyes. “Looks like maybe a piece of glass sliced your back open when you went through the window. Probably where all the blood came from. Far as I can tell, though, you’re healing. You’ve got a long gash, but it’s stopped bleeding already.”
He and Erik maneuvered under each of Wyatt’s arms and lifted him to his feet.
“Shit,” Wyatt growled.
Erik steadied his brother. “Probably broke your ribs, too.”
He grimaced. “Would explain why it’s so fucking hard to breathe.”
Leaning on them, he hobbled to the house. Once inside, they made their way to one of the downstairs guest rooms.
“This one’s got an adjoining bath.” Zane eased Wyatt through the doorway and looked at Erik. “I’ll get him cleaned up as best I can if you can go find me something to work with. There must be some kind of first-aid equipment around here.”
They lowered Wyatt to the bed, and Erik left the room. Zane removed what remained of the battered man’s shirt and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.
“I’m going to grab some towels.”
Beneath the vanity, he found washcloths. Wetting several, he applied soap, gathered several towels, and returned to Wyatt in the bedroom.
Moving behind him, Zane scrutinized the gash that traveled from his shoulder blade, over his ribs, and ended at his hip. Zane gritted his teeth. It was a wonder he hadn’t bled out right there on the ground.
He leaned Wyatt forward a bit and found another twelve-inch cut on his lower back. Both were deep. The bleeding had stopped, but the wounds needed to be sewn up. “Damn.”
“That bad?”
“Bad enough, dude. You need stitches, and I have nothing here to do them with. We need to get you back to the mainland.” He moved his fingers along Wyatt’s ribs, and the man winced. “Yeah, fractured ribs, too. Worse than your sister’s. Good chance you punctured a lung.”
“All I want to do right now is sleep. Just bandage them up. I’ll head back home first thing in the morning.”
Erik entered the room, breathless, his arms full. “I don’t think Aunt Serida left this place very often. There’s a whole closet full of medical supplies. It’s like a mini emergency room.” He crossed to the bed. “Holy crap! You look like you fell through a window or something.”
Wyatt glared. “You’re not amusing, asshole.”
Zane took some of the packages from him and set them on the bedside table. “Take me to the supplies. I want to see what else there is.”
Erik showed him the closet, and Zane stared in wonder, scanning the shelves, reading labels, and taking a mental inventory. Sutures, xylocaine, and the sterile gloves he needed to stich Wyatt’s wounds. Splinting material for Erik’s arm. It was almost as though the house knew what he needed, and, presto, the equipment was there.
Two hours later, he’d stitched Wyatt’s back and tended Erik’s arm. Wyatt had dozed off, his breathing normalized, and the angry red skin surrounding his wounds already fading. The swelling in Erik’s arm had also decreased considerably.
Zane frowned. “This isn’t right.” He looked to Erik, who was reclining in a chair at the foot of his brother’s bed. “You guys are healing way too fast. Does your arm even hurt anymore?”
Erik glanced down at his splint, over to Wyatt, and back to Zane. “Uh, no, not really.”
“And Fallon. Her ribs are completely healed. What do you make of it?”
“I don’t really know.” Erik shrugged. “Maybe it has something to do with our being Sentinels. I’ll see if I can find anything in the books tonight.”
“Yeah, I’d like to know what you find out.” Zane finished cleaning the mess he’d made stitching up Wyatt and collapsed in a chair. “I need a shower. Bad.”
“This was one crazy night, that’s for sure. I have to admit Wyatt and I had no clue what we were getting into with that beast. We weren’t prepared at all.” He eyed Zane. “If it wasn’t for you and Fallon, we’d all have been dead.”
He scowled. “Not like we didn’t warn
you. The next time you to want to go off half-cocked, leave her the hell out of it. I don’t want her risking her life like that again for anyone. Most of all, me.”
“That makes two of us.” Erik straightened. “Not you, the risking part.
“Three,” Wyatt piped up from his bed.
Erik twisted toward him. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“How am I supposed to sleep with you two gabbing?”
Zane stood. Now that the emergencies were finished, anger poured into him.
“Just so we all agree,” he growled, glaring at each of them in turn. “No more fucked-up schemes about shit you know nothing about. Find the answer, or leave it the hell alone. And if you can’t do that, then feel free to get your own ass killed. I might or might not be around to bandage your sorry asses next time.”
They both nodded.
He grunted. “Well, I’m gonna go hit the shower then lay down with Fallon. I don’t want her alone if she wakes up.”
“I’m going to sit here with Sleeping Beauty a few more minutes then check out the library,” Erik muttered.
“Fine.”
“Also, I’m heading back to the mainland with Wyatt in the morning. I haven’t been home since I left for the will reading and need to get back to my clients.”
Zane nodded. “I’ll see you two in the morning, then, before you leave.”
He trudged up the stairs and to the bathroom. Damn, it seemed every fiber in his being was dead tired. Thank God this nightmare is over.
He turned on the shower, stripped down, and stepped under the spray. Grabbing the bar of soap, he lathered a washcloth and scrubbed it over his aching muscles. He rubbed his soapy hand over his biceps and stilled.
The damn tattoo was still there.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grabbing her head in her hands, Fallon groaned. She sprung up in bed, and the hammering in her skull intensified. “Oh.”
Zane stirred beside her, and he reached over to caress her back. “Hey. You okay?”
Waltz into Fire (The Sentinals Book 1) Page 20
