“I’ll kill you!” Eirian screams, and she is advancing, very much intent on killing me here and now, power be damned, but a colourful blur streaks into the room and Grant pins her against the wall next to the window, angrier than I have ever seen him.
I cannot admire him for long. The puca takes advantage of my split-second distraction and shadowy claws dig into my side, cutting down to the bone. I lash out with my blessing. I would usually be more controlled, but I need this puca gone, need to assist Grant, who Eirian has pushed back, her magic flaring between them.
He does not back down. He does not even look my way, although I know he knows I am injured, and I am proud of him for that. He has more focus than I do. I grab at the shadow still clinging to my side and the claws tighten, but I bite the inside of my mouth so that I do not make a sound.
I will heal. I have healed from worse than this before. Rachel is still conscious, but barely, and the hand she has pressed to her wound is weak. We must finish this now.
Eirian fires magic at Grant, who ducks aside, and I take the chance I am given. The puca screeches when my blessing hits the centre of its shadows, pushing it directly in the path of Eirian’s magic. She does not notice or does not care. Her blade might be gone, but she throws herself at Grant, and he hits his head against the wall, eyes going hazy for a second. The puca collapses to one side, shadows spooling out until they are all gone, and I do not know if she is dead or has just escaped, but that does not matter.
Eirian brings Grant to the ground. Her magic overpowers his now, though he is still valiantly fighting, and I reach for my own blessing, ready to take what I can from him if it means he will survive. With the wound I have, thismaykill me, as it happens, but I am content with that. I have been content with that from the moment I turned him. I would not change it for anything.
Grant tips his head back as Eirian readies another strike. His eyes meet mine, go wide. He understands what I intend to do and he hates it, as I anticipated, but what else am I to do? Let him die? Watch it happen? I could never.
His mouth presses into a thin line. Eirian’s magic builds to a crescendo as I rally my own, reaching for our bond, my blessing wrapping around it, ready to draw out every drop to use against her—
Grant moves before either of us can. He grabs her wrist, lowers his head, and when he strikes, fangs sinking deep, she howls and loses her grip on her magic.
I am so surprised that my blessing draws back into my core. Eirian rains blow after blow down on Grant’s head and shoulder, but he curls around his prize, drinking and drinking in a way I have never seen from him before. He is determined to drain her, and my heart leaps up into my throat because fae blood is dangerous for us even in moderate quantities, so what will it do to him here?
It does not matter. Eirian weakens, unable to stop Grant, unable to draw on her magic to do so, it appears. She pales, but when she finally tries to get away, he tightens his grip and keeps drinking.
After a few minutes, she collapses onto one side. She is not dead. Not yet. Grant stares blankly ahead for a second, then blinks, gaze landing on me.
“You…”
“I will be fine.”
He gets to his feet. He sways for a moment, then steps over Eirian’s body and into my arms. He is careful not to touch my injured side and for a moment, I simply breathe him in.
Eirian is all but dead. Grant killed her,drainedher, and now—
I tip his head back and stare into his eyes. “What about you?”
“Fine, fine.” He looks distractedly around, horror crossing his face when his gaze lands on Rachel. “Oh, fuck!”
Chapter Thirty-One
Grant
Idroptomykneesnext to Rachel. She’s still breathing, but those breaths are shallow, eyes moving behind closed lids. Blood oozes from a wound on her side, through her T-shirt and thin jumper.
“What happened?”
“Eirian stabbed her,” Vlad says. His voice sounds strained, and I want to heal him too, but he’s standing and still talking, andas much as it pains me, I can be practical. I need to help Rachel first.
Vlad comes and kneels next to me, though he grimaces every time he shifts his weight. I haven’t got a good look at the injury on his ribs yet, but it seems bad. I’ve never seen him hurt like this.
“You can do this,” he says, and his tone is a little more even now. “Ask your magic. It will help you.”
God, I hope so. Eirian is almost dead, not quite, but her magic is still seeping out of her. Some of it is inside me. Not as much as I think there would be if I were a normal vampire—my magic burnt through it pretty quickly—but enough to make my head spin and my hands tremble.
I reach out and brush my fingers over Rachel’s forehead. She lets out a faint moan. She won’t want to be turned, I’m sure, and I’m not about to let it get that far.
Vlad puts a hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes and wait for my magic to come to me.
It feels scattered at first. Disjointed. I’ve been through the ringer, so that’s no surprise, and it’s like it’s trying to inspect every corner of the room, like we’re not truly safe. I’m not sure if the puca died or left, but I do my best to coax my magic back to me all the same.
Its warmth wraps around my hands, twisting up my forearms, and I take a deep breath in, letting it fill my lungs. For the first time, I feel like the magic is truly waiting for my cue, waiting for me to direct and command.
