I need to get away from my father. He’s gone completely mad. I glance at my mate suffering on the ground. I need to go to him. I need to save him. If I can get him out of here and take him to Mira, certainly she’ll be able to help.
The moment I make a move toward Locheran, my father steps in front of me.
“Ah, ah. The gargoyle is mine. The horns will be worth nearly a million dollars with how old this one is.”
The pit of my stomach clenches. Electricity replaces the blood in my veins and lights up my body like a live wire ready to explode.
“No,” I growl and slam my palms into my father’s chest.
A burst of light blankets the space. I close my eyes and lift my arms for protection. The blinding brightness seemsto last forever, but when it finally fades, I slowly peel my eyes open.
My father is on the ground, unmoving.
Did I do that?
How?
Is he dead?
I shake my head because I have more pressing matters to deal with.
I fall next to Locheran, lifting his shirt and finding the wound on the left side of his stomach.
It’s two inches long and seeping blood. I place my palm over it, attempting to stop the bleeding.
“I’m so sorry, Loch. I’m so sorry. I love you. Please don’t die. I need you. I need my mate.”
He says nothing. Does nothing.
He’s breathing, but barely.
His pain courses through me and it’s near debilitating, but I can’t let it claim me too. I have to be strong for him.
Heavy footsteps approach and I stand, fists in front of me, ready to fight off whoever it might be.
But when familiar faces round the corner, I drop my stance.
“What happened? We saw a bright light,” Evangeline says, running to me. She brings me into a hug, and I sob into herneck.
“My father. He… he stabbed Locheran with a warspear.”
Xander passes us to reach Locheran. He scoops him up into his arms.
Thorne is beside him and says, “We need to take him to the witches. They might be able to help.”
Evangeline keeps her arm around me and leads me out of the back alley. We walk to the front of the building where supes gather. Many are injured and bleeding. Bodies litter the sidewalk and street, some supes, some humans.
“Did the hunters…”
“We captured many of them," Evangeline answers. “A few were killed in the crossfire.”
“My brother, Dean?”
“He’s in a holding cell,” Thorne adds. “We’ve removed the kill pill embedded in the tooth in his mouth.”
I nod as we walk to the triage tent that’s been erected a block away. The smell of blood fills the air mixed with burning wood and something else that makes me want to gag.
I’ll hear about the details of the battle later.
