Lazarus hisses. “How you tolerate the company of those animators is beyond me. You bear your curse with such grace.”
“Over the centuries, I’ve learned to survive. But even now, the candle calls to me.” I draw my phone from my pocket and snap a picture of the pages. I want to show them to Eloise.
Lazarus laughs. “You won’t be able to read that, my friend. That language hasn’t been spoken in a century.”
I shrug. “I hope you don’t mind. I want to take a closer look. Indulge my curiosity.”
The scribe waves a hand. “Feel free, although you know what they say about curiosity and cats.” The vampire snorts, closes the book, and scoops it back into his arms.
“Thank you, Lazarus.”
The vampire presses a hand to his chest and bows. “It is my sincere honor to be useful. I will be sad to give up this project. Trulyintriguing.”
I flash a charming smile. “I’ll try my best to find something else to keep you busy.”
“There’s always the chance you’ll see the man again and capture him for study,” Lazarus adds hopefully.
“Always the chance,” I repeat.
The moment Lazarus is out of my apartment, I lock the door and dematerialize, traveling by shadow, anxious to complete my mission to kill Tony and again be in the presence of my little dragon.
43
So Am I
DAMIEN
Something is wrong. The moment I leave Night Haven and enter the network of shadows, I sense Eloise’s pain down our bond. Not like before. This isn’t emotional pain. It’s physical. She’s injured.Fuck, if Tony has hurt her, I’ll flay his skin from his body.
The rank smell of blood reaches me the moment I manifest in her parlor. I follow the scent to an art studio at the back of the house.
“Eloise!” I find her curled in a ball, at the base of a tower of blades. Tony dangles from the structure, staring at her through dead eyes. Blood pools beneath him, spreading, threatening her even in death. Commanding the shadows, I sweep her out of its reach and carry her away from the scene of death and violence. When I feel her chest rise and fall against mine, I’m so relieved I almost weep. But any comfort I take that she’s alive fades quickly when I’m unable to rouse her.
In the parlor, I gently lay her down on the green velvetsofa and carefully assess her injuries. Every inch of her is covered in bruises, even beneath her clothing. Rage kindles deep within me, a spark growing into a blaze. I feel cheated knowing Tony is dead in the next room. I almost wish the Gowdies owed me a favor so that I could reanimate his corpse and kill him again. “That fucking bastard.”
Mercifully, Eloise’s eyes blink open and meet mine, but they’re glazed, and motherfucker, the pattern of bruises on her neck suggests she’s been strangled. Her injuries are serious. More than shade saliva can heal or what little magic I wield can fix.
“You need a doctor,” I say, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling 911.”
She shakes her head. “No hospital.”
“Eloise, you’re hurt. I can’t fix this.” Panic rises to fill every part of me. Doing nothing is unthinkable. So much can go wrong with her fragile human body. What if there’s internal bleeding? Losing her now would be the single worst moment in my existence. I’d rather have my heart torn from my chest in full sunlight.
“They’ll ask questions, Damien. I’ll be blamed for Tony’s murder.” She takes a deep, rattling breath.
A vampire could turn her, make her immortal. Shades have live young but vampires turn humans.No. Cursing her to that fate is unthinkable. Not if there is another way. “Fine.” I swallow, knowing what I must do. “No doctors. But there’s someone else I can call.”
“Who?”
“You know who.” Maeve is a powerful witch, and even amateur elementals have healing spells.
“She may not come.” She swallows and winces like it’s painful. “Hates me... the candle.”
I grind my teeth. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to save Eloise. Maeve is her friend but I don’t trust the witch not to use the circumstances to her advantage. If I call her, it will not be beyond reason for her to expect restitution. But I don’t hesitate. I will allow myself to be bound again if that’s what it takes to save Eloise. Resigned, I rise and walk to the kitchen so that Eloise can’t hear if I have to bargain for her life. I place the call, and Maeve answers on the second ring.
“Did not have this on my bingo card today,” she says by way of hello. “Why the hell are you calling me, Advocate?”
“He hurt her,” I grit out, unable to suppress a growl. “I think she’s dying.”
