“No,” I snarled, stepping toward the creature, preparing to spring. “Mine.”
Reflexively, I threw both of my hands out in front of me, palms forward.
The beast whimpered, dropping his head in submission. He fled with his tail between his legs.
I relaxed my tensed posture.
Ginger.
Threat diminished, I returned to the faun woman. I knelt and ghosted my fingers over the pulse in her neck, below her nose. A slow trickle of blood crept from one nostril.
She was breathing. Slowly, but breathing.
Her pulse was reedy and thin, more sluggish than it should have been.
The sickly scent of death perfumed the air.
Panicflooded my veins.
Impossible.
She wasdying.
“No!” I shouted at her. “You willnotdie. Iforbid it!”
She didn’t move, didn’t even flinch when I lifted her eyelid to get a glimpse at her eyes.
Her pupils were blown and unresponsive.
“Fucking damn it, Ginger! You willNOTdie!”
I slipped my arms beneath her and scooped her body into my chest. Her head lolled; her arms hung limply.
Her skin was unnaturally cold.
She smelled like sweat, blood, and the sweet tang of death. She smelledwrong.
Her usually auburn hair was soaked through with blood leaking from a gash in her forehead.
Fuck.
Her blood didn’t smell right—it was tainted.
I caught sight of the bundle of fabric tied in a strange knot on the ground beside where I had found her.
In it lay two red mushrooms. I recognized them immediately—widowmaker mushrooms.
“Damn it, Ginger!”
I needed to get her to a healer.Now.
There was an angel in Moonvale who practiced healing—I had seen her around, had peeked into the windows of her clinic.
She would have to do.
And if she didn’t save my wife, I would murder her myself.
I would murder everyone.
