When I check his pulse, his head lolls to one side. He blinks several times before his eyes slip shut as he exhales raggedly.
“You’re bleeding,” he slurs.
“Shh.”
Talking isn't good for him right now. I wipe at the stupid fucking moisture uselessly escaping my face and carefully move his arm and leg closer to his body.
“Hurts, love,” he whispers, face contorting in such agony that my chest aches. “Wantto numbit but…I’d feelless ofyou…if I makeit stop…”
His words blend together and make no sense. I gently hush him again before getting the others to bring them closer. In my semi-hysterical state, I think that it's convenient I was given unnatural strength, or else dragging my matches around would be a hell of a lot harder.
The battlefield formerly filled with gunshots and the exhilarating sounds of battle has fallen eerily silent. Anyone left alive is either unable to move and likely falling to hypothermia,or they're heavily injured and will bleed out before the cold kills them.
Except Asher Douglas.
As I finish struggling to move Baelfire next to the other three, my gaze connects with the bounty hunter in the far distance. He's managed to sit up and is healing his broken arms with soft green magic while he watches me, his gun in his lap.
He could shoot me right now. Take me to the Legacy Council and leave my matches here to rot.
Instead, he looks away, taking in the massacre around him.
As soon as my quintet members are all touching, I call on the life forces still pulsing in my veins. Dark magic flares around me, and after a brief, blinding flash, we're abruptly in the same hotel room suite we previously got in Nebraska.
It’s the first place I could think of. The universe is merciful for once and no humans currently occupy this room. Lifting my hand, I double-lock the front door using common magic.
Then I sit and stare at my matches as blood drips from me.
Crypt is bleeding out on the carpet, now as unconscious as the rest of them. Baelfire has silver bullets embedded in one of his arms, and Everett is bleeding from a wolf shifter bite to his shoulder. Silas is only bleeding from his nose, a sign of magical strain on the brain, and he looks awful. They all do.
This is why I have to fight like hell to keep them safe
No—it's why they should have accepted my fucking rejection in the first place. If they had, they might've been perfectly safe and matched to some other legacy by now if they had just appealed to the fucking gods like I told them to.
“I warned you guys,” I whisper angrily, voice breaking.
But my anger is short-lived.
These legacies were always going to be mine. Right now isn't the time to linger in shock or feel sorry for our situation. I needto help them recover, keep them as safe as possible, and get the fuck on with my plan.
I read Engela's letter earlier. She doubts the other two members remaining in her quintet will be hiding in the same place. I’m almost certain of where Iker Del Mar may be, thanks to Engela’s detailed accounts, but I'm sure as hell not bringing my quintet with me for this hit.
They’ll need time to heal, but I have to take out another member of the Immortal Quintet before Amadeus harms Lillian or the humans.
Yet the idea of leaving them behind…
Gods. This is going to fucking suck.
Newlybound legacies need time with their matches, basking in the afterglow of bonding and growing closer as the bond strengthens. I’m not a legacy—but damn it, if only we had time for all of that.
Oh, well. Life is a bitch, and so is death.
As I plot out my next move, I work. I’m not a gifted healer with common magic, but right now, there is so much power from the battle pumping through my veins that I harness to stitch Crypt’s arm and leg back to his body. His incubus healing can take care of the severeness of the injuries slowly. I carefully remove the silver bullets from Baelfire before cleaning and bandaging Everett’s shoulder.
Snowdrop…
I pause to study Everett’s face, but he doesn’t rouse from the stupor that Gideon left them in. With a grimace, I reach behind my head and breathe the necromantic words for healing the worst of the injury there. It’s far less potent without spell ingredients, but the bleeding stops.
Next, I bundle Silas and Crypt in blankets from the two bedrooms to help them recover from the lingering Alaskan cold, place heavy protective wards on the entire suite, and leave all thelights on. I add a few light spells for good measure and slowly back away from them, studying all four of their handsome, blood and dirt-streaked faces.
