by Bella Klaus
“If I can send you there by mirror, you’ll get the help you need even faster,” Namara said.
My stomach churned at the thought of a method of transport capable of breaking a person’s body into chunks. I shook my head and rasped, “I can wait for an ambulance in your office.”
A wave of dizziness tilted the room forward. My consciousness somersaulted, my knees buckled, and I keeled toward the wooden floor.
Namara scooped me into her arms and stared down at me with furrowed brows. “You’re no longer in a position to walk.”
I was so out of breath that I couldn’t even utter a word of protest and slumped against the larger woman’s shoulder. Healer Dianne was supposed to have reversed the damage Kresnik had inflicted on me, or had that just been triage? Why hadn’t the woman said something?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I exhaled a ragged breath. Why would she warn me after I called her a bigot and threatened to burn through her and her mediwizards? Being outspoken had its drawbacks but I wouldn’t have changed a single thing if it meant saving Beatrice.
Namara crossed the study and opened the door that led to her pristine white office. It was still nighttime through the floor-to-ceiling windows, even though my vision blurred so badly I couldn’t tell if we were close to dawn.
Valentine’s growl filled the air. “What did he do to Miss Griffin?”
I stiffened, as did Namara. Why was he here at Hades’ office when he clearly hadn’t cared enough earlier this evening to offer me an alternative invitation? I parted my lips to tell the imp to walk around the Vampire King, but I was too breathless to utter the words.
“Miss Griffin arrived to us already damaged,” Namara said, her voice clipped. “Had we known about the extent of her injuries, we would have offered immediate medical assistance.”
“Give her to me,” Valentine snarled.
“I expect whoever treated her after the attack didn’t do a thorough job,” she said with a sniff. “As my lord left me to take care of Miss Griffin, it’s my responsibility to—”
“Now,” Valentine snarled loud enough to make every muscle in my body tremble.
Namara paused for a few heartbeats before handing me over.
This resurrected version of Valentine felt even stiffer than a preternatural nearly risen from the grave. If I made him so uncomfortable, why did he insist on taking me to the hospital?
I longed to wriggle out of his grip, to push at his chest and order him to release me but another vicious tug sent an explosion through my chest that reached every nerve ending. I passed out before my head lolled to the side.
Bright light shone through my eyelids, pulling me out of the most peaceful slumber I’d had since Valentine walked into the Crystal Shop. Rolling onto my side, I sank into the soft outer layer of a mattress that was firmer underneath. I let my eyes flutter open, blinked away the glare, and focussed on my surroundings.
I lay in a white hospital booth about a quarter of the size of the room where the healers were keeping Lazarus. My vital statistics glowed across the wall, along with a pair of colorful holographs that depicted my energy body.
All seven chakras shone on the left one—crown, third eye, throat, heart, solar plexus, sacral, and base—with the heart chakra a murky orange instead of its usual radiant green. My stomach clenched. It looked like Healer Dianne hadn’t completely fixed Kresnik’s damage.
The holograph on the right displayed my meridians, each one of them shining in the colors of the rainbow except for the line of black that led from my left armpit to my little finger. Nausea surged up my gullet and I placed a hand over my mouth, trying not to hurl the contents of my empty stomach. The heart meridian on my right side was fine, but it was no consolation.
At the other end of the holographs was a picture of the organ itself, which pulsed and spasmed with my rapid pulse. Its fifth chamber was also black with a note at the bottom I couldn’t read from the bed. I leaned toward the wall, setting off an alarm.
My heart jolted.
A wizard in a white coat stepped inside. His amber hair formed a pair of thick cornrows that wrapped along his jawline, ending in a braid that hung halfway down his white coat.
“Miss Hemera Griffin?” He raised his brows. “My name is Jenken Atman. I’ve been taking care of you during your stay.”
“Mera,” I croaked.
“That throat doesn’t sound good at all. Let me get you some cough drops. In the meantime, please lean back.” He shooed me toward the mattress with both hands.
“Wait.” I could barely get the words out. “What about my heart?”
He’d already left the room by the time I’d finished that sentence.
As I pushed myself up on the bed, a tall witch bustled inside and flicked her wand, adjusting the bed so I could sit up. The pillows at my back rearranged themselves to form a firm cushion.
“Can you tell me what’s happened to my heart?” I asked.
“Your magic burned through your sutures,” she said, her voice sharp with the implication that I’d done it on purpose. “We had to lower your body temperature for the duration of the healing process.”
My gaze darted toward the gruesome holographs. “And my magic?”
“Healer Atman is the expert in soul healing.” She walked toward the Hatch opposite the wall of vital signs. “Would you like the food menu?”
“Maybe later?” I asked.
She walked to the other end of the bed, pulled out the footboard so it formed a table, and floated the structure toward me.
“There’s nothing we can do about your dependency on vampire thrall in this ward, but we can supply you with Panacea water for the duration of your stay,” she said, this time sounding a little sympathetic.
A bottle emerged from its surface, making me lick my dry lips. After enchanting it with a straw, the healer moved my hand to a button on the table. “Ring if you need any assistance.”
As the man from before strolled in carrying a wooden box, the woman walked toward the door. I murmured my thanks, and she inclined her head.
“Lozenges for your throat.” He flipped open the box and grinned, revealing dozens of orange disks twice the thickness of a British pound coin.
“Thanks.” I took a lozenge and popped it in my mouth, letting its outer layer disintegrate on my tongue and release a thick healing balm that tasted of lemon but slid down my throat like warm honey. “Could you tell me what’s happened to my magic, please?”
His brows drew together. “I already made my report to His Majesty.”
My lips tightened, and I stopped myself from asking which one. Since Hades had disappeared in a Kresnik-induced fury and Valentine had carried me here, it was safe to assume that the healer was referring to the Vampire King.
A knock sounded on the door, and Valentine strolled in, wearing a three-piece tweed suit that looked like it had been tailored for a cast member of Fantastic Beasts.
My breath caught, and any semblance of calm I might have mustered from a good night’s sleep flew away with the flock of butterflies that had jolted to life in my stomach. Based on his appearance, his memories hadn’t yet resurfaced. I swept my gaze down to the gold chain of his pocket watch, wondering if he’d misplaced his wardrobe of designer clothes we’d bought together during our many shopping trips in the Human World.
“Leave us,” he said.
My arm shot out toward the healer. “Wait.”
Without sparing me a glance, Healer Atman scurried out of the room.
I turned to Valentine and scowled. “He didn’t give me his report.”
Seeming not to have heard me, he continued to my bedside, where he loomed, making me have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. Eyes that were now as indigo as the night’s sky without a single trace of red to color them violet.
My heart sank. Until now, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the varying shades of his irises that displayed a range of emotions from anger to affection.
He stared down at me, hi
s face not betraying a single emotion apart from an eerie curiosity. “According to the report, your power levels are grossly elevated compared to the baseline in your official records.”
I shook my head from side to side. Of course my magic would be higher. The last time I submitted to a medical was years ago, when I thought I was still a Neutral. Even after my arrest, they hadn’t tested my magic until Aunt Arianna had arranged the firestone-infused blood. This information wasn’t new, neither was it helpful.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Valentine folded his arms across his chest. “Why did your father attack you?”
“He’s not my—” There was no point in denying my relationship to Kresnik, especially after our conversation the night before. “It’s as I said. He bred an entire generation of us to fuel his rise to power.”
“I see.” Valentine hesitated, his gaze rising upward, looking like he was trying to work out how to phrase something delicate.
The lining of my stomach fluttered, and what felt like static electricity sparked against my skin. Whatever he was about to say had to be bad. Maybe Kresnik hadn’t intended to steal my magic but insert his soul into my body.
Cold realization flushed through my veins. The man desperately wanted to possess my phoenix. What if that black mass in my heart chakra and meridian was a piece of his putrid soul trying to take over my body? I’d read enough Harry Potter to Macavity to know all about fiends who split themselves into pieces.
Chills ran down my arms, making the skin pucker into goosebumps. Bloody hell. How could a possessed phoenix put herself out of her misery? No wonder Healer Atman ran away.
I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. No one had confirmed the nature of the dark mass, so why was I getting riled up over unfounded speculation? Taking a long sip of the Panacea water, I let the cool liquid wash away my nerves.
“When did you discover your familial connection?” Valentine asked.
My mind blanked, and it took a moment or two to realize he wasn’t sharing bad news about my health.
Valentine leaned forward, scrutinizing me as though I was exhibit A in the Logris Museum of Toxic Stalkers Who Killed Their Victims.
Channeling my inner cat, every hackle in my body rose. “You mean did I have a relationship with you knowing that I was the daughter of your enemy?”
He inclined his head.
“Do I look like a femme fatale to you?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth curled into the tiniest of smiles.
I bristled at the unspoken insult. Sure, I was a little battered and scrawny from my adventures, but Valentine used to think I was beautiful. That would teach me to compare myself to the likes of Mata Hari.
“Listen,” I snapped. “You’re the one who made all the moves on me. I didn’t know who my father was until well after you’d risen from the dead as a preternatural.”
He tilted his head to the side, looking more inquisitive than an owl. “What did I see in you?”
My jaw clenched. “Have you lost all sense of tact along with your memory?”
“I beg your pardon?” Valentine snarled, his nostrils flaring.
“Something happened to you when you came back.” My throat thickened as I said the words. For all my bravado, dealing with Valentine when he was like this hurt worse than a needle through the heart. I dipped my head and sucked in a breath, and blinked back tears. “The man I fell in love with would never ask such an insensitive question.”
“Explain.”
“You used to be kind, but now you’re cold.” I lifted my chin, meeting his unchanging eyes. “Do you even love anyone apart from yourself? Lazarus, Constantine, Sylvester, Ferdinand? How about Macavity?”
“Macavity is a cat,” Valentine said, his voice flat.
My stomach plummeted. Even that lizard, Prince Draconius, had respected Macavity enough to back away from me the moment the hellcat had growled a warning.
If Valentine acted like Macavity wasn’t special, there was more wrong with him than his memory. I jabbed the button with my finger, setting off a gentle alarm.
Healer Atman jogged into the room. “Miss Griffin?”
Valentine stepped back, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”
I pointed at Valentine’s heart. “Please check His Majesty for signs of a soul.”
“It appears that Miss Griffin is in more need of medical attention than I thought.” Valentine strode out of the room and disappeared through the door.
My eyes narrowed. Something was definitely wrong with Valentine. He was acting skittish and reluctant, just like his preternatural self had when I’d first started talking about restoring his soul.
“Miss Griffin?” the healer asked.
I turned to the holographs. “What’s the black mass in my heart meridian and chakra?”
“I already informed His Majesty—”
“It’s my body,” I snapped. “Tell me, not him.”
The healer cleared his throat. “There’s foreign magic of unknown origin in your system.”
I leaned back against my cushions and folded my arms across my chest. “Can you narrow it down to species?”
Exhaling a long breath, Healer Atman tugged at his braid. “It’s nothing like your Neutral magic.”
“Phoenix, then?”
“That’s the trouble.” He spread his arms wide in a helpless shrug. “We don’t have enough samples from fire users to make comparisons, let alone rare beings such as you. I don’t know if it’s beneficial or malevolent, but it’s a concentrated mass of magic that potentially makes you more powerful than most members of the Supernatural Council.”
I gulped. “Do you think…”
The healer stepped forward, his hands clasped, but his eyes were as penetrating as needles. “You have an idea of what it could be?”
“Does the magic belong to Kresnik?”
“Absolutely not.” He straightened. “We have multiple samples of his magic in our database, the most recent of which came from King Valentine’s firestone weapons.”
I raised the bottle to my lips and took a long sip. If the dark mass of magic wasn’t my original Neutral magic or phoenix magic, and didn’t come from Kresnik, there could only be one other source.
Valentine.
Chapter Thirteen
I glanced from the glowing spots in my body to the moving holographs on the wall, trying not to wriggle at the sensation of the foreign magic moving around mine.
Perhaps I’d been too distracted during my fight with November to realize that Valentine’s power had merged with mine, or all that time I’d spent in the dreamscape with his soul had made me so accustomed to his magic, he now felt like a part of myself.
My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. “Does the power come from a vampire?”
Healer Atman narrowed his eyes. “How did you know?”
I dropped my gaze to my lap. “Have you tested a sample of the magic with your database of vampires?”
“That was the recommendation I made in the report I sent to His Majesty. We are awaiting his permission to cross-reference it with the medical records of the residents of Lamia.”
“But he was just in the room. Why didn’t you ask him then?”
He smoothed a hand over his amber hair. “Politics, I’m afraid.”
I clenched my teeth. More like Valentine not wanting to admit that there was something wrong with him and not wanting to consider that his lost memories might be a symptom of something worse.
When I didn’t say anything else, the older man stepped toward the door and paused by the exit. “Is there anything else?”
“How difficult would it be to return the magic to its owner?” I asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “I can call in an expert to perform the separation process. Until the Vampire King provides authorization for us to check the mass against his subjects, there is nothing we can do to return the magic.”
My throat spasmed
, and I placed my hand at the base of my neck, trying not to scream. Even if Valentine allowed the healers to cross-reference all the vampires, I would bet that his records would have an extra layer of security. If I was going to restore Valentine, I had to do it myself.
Thanks to Istabelle and Coral, I was now pretty adept at moving magic to and from objects. It wouldn’t be too difficult to push that power into Valentine… If I could get close enough to the uptight vampire to bring him back to himself. “Can you put it in a vessel?”
Healer Atman inclined his head. “I’ll just authorize the procedure with His Majesty—”
“Why?” I asked.
“When the finance department tried to deduct the cost of your treatment from Striga, the charges were rejected. Your record on the central database shows no allegiance to any of the seven monarchs, so Lamia has assumed responsibility for your hospital bills.”
My heart sank. I had probably been struck off the database when the Supernatural Council sentenced me to death. “Right, then.”
The healer strolled out of the room, and I stared at his back, wondering why on earth the Witch Queen hadn’t added me back to the census of Striga. Hades had processed my pardon, and I was still a citizen of Logris. Did she now consider me part of Lamia or no longer one of her subjects because I was a shifter?
I shook off those thoughts. It wasn’t like I planned on ever returning to the cottage I had shared with Aunt Arianna. Now that I had an idea of why Valentine was acting so strangely, I could work out how to put his essence back into his body.
My stomach rumbled, so I picked up the menu and leafed through its contents. Unlike the Hatch in the enforcers’ barracks, this menu only contained vendors authorized by the hospital and many of the items available for sale were blacked out.
I ordered a Superberry Bowl from the Allotment Cafe—granola served with strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. Instead of milk, it came with a coconut cream and banana smoothie. According to the menu, they also supplied a large serving of dandelion coffee with hazelnut milk.
A knock sounded on the door, and Kain stepped in with a suspicious lump under his jacket.
