Lachlan turned. “Here’s the other wee demon,” he burred in his thick Scottish accent. Then his eyes moved to Daphne and gentled. “Hello, lass.”
“So what’s the plan?” Hunter asked to no one in particular.
“Obviously, we can’t fix this. It’s beyond the scope of all our magic,” Melisandre said. “But we can try to outsmart it.”
“I guess you guys have a plan?”
“A three-part plan,” Lachlan said, unshakably calm. “Melisandre and I will cast a containment dome around the town, like a pressure seal to keep the bleed contained to where it’s manifesting. We’ll siphon power from Aryon and Elara for casting,” he went on. “They’ll also manipulate the minds o’ the folks to override hallucinations and reduce panic.”
She blinked. “The elves are sedating the town.”
He frowned, thinking for a second. Then, “Aye.”
Nick strode in, Jade at his side, looking way too calm for any of this. “We’ll hit the streets. A few more healers are joining. We’ll patch up whoever needs it, in body or otherwise.”
Because apparently, nightmare injuries were just a Tuesday afternoon now.
Lachlan kept recapping the plan. “We’ll anchor the containment dome at the cardinal points, forming an energy axis. Melisandre and I will anchor North and South. The elves take East and West.”
Like it was just geometry. Or geography. Anything other than the absolute cosmic-level shitstorm that it really was.
“It can work,” Hunter said. “Syphon from me, too. You can use more power, and my kind can be useful given the situation.”
“What is your kind of power?” Daphne asked. Wasn’t all the power just power?
But he winked. “Old, hot, and pulled from the gaps between a heartbeat and a scream.”
“Dark, unstable, and about as soothing as a punch to the soul,” Lachlan scoffed. “But aye. It could work. Give me.” The mayor stretched out a hand like he was asking for a pen. And Hunter, because apparently this was normal, offered his arm.
Wait. What? Why did he offer–
Lachlan pulled a pocketknife from his jeans and casually sliced Hunter’s wrist.
What?!
Hunter didn’t even flinch. And like it was nothing, nothing at all, someone passed Lachlan afucking teacup, and the Mayor of Mystic Hollow began collecting her soulmate’s blood.
“Technically, I don’t have blood,” Hunter said, calm as you please. “But I’ve got nothing to offer in my real form, so this is the best workaround. My magic lets me take any shape I want, so this body, this blood, it carries enough of me for Lachlan to draw on. It’ll make the spell stronger.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said.
Stupidly.
And when the bled-out was done, his wrist just closed up. Not even a scar. She snatched his hand to look at how perfect, simply perfect it all looked. That night in her kitchen, when he took her knife by the blade... she’d seen the blood, but it had been so fast. Now though...
“She knows what ye are, aye?” Lachlan asked, frowning.
“Of course.” Hunter put an arm companionably on her shoulders. “She never saw me sliced up, but she’ll be fine.”
She didn’t even question leaning a little on him because, man, it had been such a long day. And, she knew, the worst part hadn’t even started yet.
Because they all had their tasks, they would all come together to try to soften the horrid blow the entire town was getting. But shealso realized she was the only one who could stop it. She left the safety of Hunter’s body and walked to the table where, indeed, a map of the town was laid out. Four large red circles marked the places they thought were optimal for the energy axis.
All was in place.
Behind her, people had started talking again. Lachlan and Melisandre were brainstorming the best and fastest spells. The elves glowed with barely contained power. Nick and Jade were deciding which roads to hit first as they texted other healers.
It was time to tell them where she intended to be.
