The scrap began to spew the same dense black smoke as when I’d held it, immediately twisting its way up the tongs, but before Ivo could drop it, it had reached his hand, encasing it in a solid black mass, little red symbols flashing within it for a second.
“Ivo are you—no!” I stared in horror as the black smoke began to peel away from his hand. “Oh, goddess, no!”
Ivo, who had been staring with what I could only assume was the same expression that I wore, looked at his hand, which was still in a position as if it was holding the tongs. Only his hand from the wrist down was black, completely black, as if it had been dipped in the densest coal.
“Call a healer,” Christian ordered Finch, who pulled out his phone.
“I’m a doctor,” I told him absently, then asked Ivo, “Does it hurt?”
“No. It doesn’t feel like anything.” Ivo lifted his arm, closely examining his hand. “It feels like it’s not even there. Like it’s dead or—”
His hand broke off at the wrist, and fell to the stone floor of the balcony, shattering into a dozen pieces.
I felt a growing need to scream. Panic caught me by the throat as I looked first from the smashed hand to the man who meant everything to me. Automatically, I had braced myself for the gore that accompanied the loss of a limb, but there was none. The end of Ivo’s wrist was covered in skin, just as if it had instantly healed over.
“What the hell?” I asked, realizing my voice was rising in panic. I clutched Ivo’s uninjured arm, searching his face for signs of distress, but there were none. He looked as stunned as I felt. “Let’s get you inside. Goddess—I don’t know what happened, but you need to sit down. Why is there no blood? Vampires bleed. I know you do. I saw you bleed all over in France.”
“I think it was the spell,” he said, turning his wrist first one way, then the other while he examined it. “It clung to my hand, and destroyed it when it was itself destroyed.”
“Your hand!” I said on a near wail. “Your lovely long-fingered hand! Holy shit, Ivo!”
“I have another,” he said, waggling his free hand at me.
“Am I insane, or are all of you?” I asked the three men, turning to look at the other two, both of whom wore thoughtful expressions. “Why is no one making a big deal out of this? Ivo’s hand just fell off. It fell off. It’s gone. It’s toast.”
“That’s quite evident,” Finch said, a little frown pulling his brows together. “But since Ivo doesn’t seem to be in any distress, and the spell has been destroyed, I would say that all’s well that ends well.”
“All’s well?” I said, my voice rising as I turned to face him. “All’s well?”
“All is definitely not well,” a deep voice said from inside. The thief takers moved out onto the balcony, nudging first the crumbled ashes of the vellum, then the black broken pieces of Ivo’s fingers. “Not well at all. Our client will be most displeased that the spell is no more.”
“Displeased,” the second one repeated, then suddenly looked hopeful. “Still, he can’t blame us for it, can he? What’s done is done, say I. Let’s go get some food. That bloodsucker there said he’s paying for the first round.”
Finch looked like he wanted to protest, but I was too focused on Ivo to care.
“My darling. My love. What can I do for you?” I asked, desperate to help him in his time of need. “I am not terribly learned in Dark One medical care, so we can get a healer familiar with your kind if you like. Maybe we can reattach your hand—”
A crushing noise of someone stepping on incinerated fingers had me flinching and glaring at the nearest thief taker, who bared his teeth in what I assumed was meant to be a smile.
“Sorry,” he said, and carefully scraped the pulverized remains of the fingers onto a bit of stone on the balustrade. Christian hustled the two men out of the castle.
“I give up,” I said, wanting to scream and cry and do something for Ivo. The problem was, I didn’t know what he wanted.
You. I want you.
I can hear you again! I said, goose bumps rippling down my arm. In my head, I can hear you, just like I did a little bit ago.
Excellent, he said. I had the sense of satisfaction filling him. I wondered if it would come when you redeemed my soul.
“Your what, now?” I asked.
“Soul. I was born of an unredeemed Dark One; thus I was the same. Until you. Now that you are here, I am whole.”
I looked pointedly at his wrist.
“Well, mostly whole.”
“I have a friend who is big into electronics,” Finch said, tugging on his earlobe. “I wonder if he couldn’t rig up some sort of prosthetic high-tech hand for you, Ivo. One that would allow you do things.”
