“Gaia would have to give her verdict. In the meantime, find a way to counter that pull before the next blood moon. Check out the ancient scripts we have again. I’ll see what I can do. And you’re back on patrol, but pair up with another. Those bastards will probably cause havoc on the streets now.”
In a swirl of silvery sparks, Michael vanished.
Týr crossed to them, hesitated. His toffee-brown eyes still edged with betrayal, he stared at Blaéz, but they held empathy, too. “Goddammit,” he muttered before he walked away, fast disappearing into the darkening forest as night stole in. Dagan glanced at Blaéz, nodded, and he too left.
“You need me, call,” Aethan told Blaéz.
Echo offered Darci a sympathetic smile, but the shock on her face remained at Darci’s disclosure as she and Aethan departed.
Leaving Darci alone with Blaéz.
“Why didn’t you tell me The Morrigan was your mother?” she asked him.
“A twist of fate doesn’t make her my mother. The female who cared for me was one of her servants.” Fury lingered in his gaze as he made his way through the trees.
“Blaéz, wait.” She rushed after him. He spun around, and she crashed into him, feeling as if she’d run into granite.
“Don’t ever lie to me again, Darci. Just don’t. I’ve been dealt that shit once too often.” Taking her hand, he walked back toward the castle. Darci had a feeling she knew of who he spoke. What had The Morrigan done that made him hate her so much?
Before she could speak, he said, “The Morrigan’s visit was what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Though nothing showed on his face, Darci got the distinct impression he was furious that his mother had come after her. “Yes. But everything seemed to go to hell so fast today, there wasn’t even a chance to do so.”
“I know.” His thumb stroked her palm. “I know.”
“Why do you dislike her?”
“Because she made my life a living hell.”
* * *
Darci stalked the dressing room a half hour later while Blaéz changed into his patrolling gear. The sight of his muscular thighs encased in leather pants and a t-shirt stretched over his well-defined body distracted her a little, and had her eyeing him in appreciation. But her mind tipped back into worry. Michael shouldn’t have let him go back on patrol so soon with Maloch’s minions around.
“Blaéz, it’s dangerous being out on the streets.”
“Stop worrying. Aethan’s my guard tonight, he’s one terrifying son-of-a-bitch.” He sat down on the wooden chest and pulled on socks. “I’ll be fine, even if the demon opens a damn portal to yank me back.”
Right. Darci stopped her erratic pace-a-thon and leaned against the bureau. The whip wound on his bicep had healed and was now a thin red line. But the bloody spots on his cheeks troubled her. “Those lesions on your face aren’t healing.”
“I’ll be fine in a few hours.”
“What caused them?”
“Wyvern.”
“Those lizard things?” Darci shivered, remembering the horrendous demonic creature she’d seen through the library window.
“Yeah.” He picked up a boot and tugged it on. “Their saliva’s like acid.”
“Thank God you can heal yourself!”
“Indeed.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m lucky that way.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “Blaéz, we have to talk about this—”
“We definitely will, about this irrational need you have to put yourself in danger again.” He rose. The quiet fury in his tone made her wary. “You ever think to do something so reckless again, rush in front of fighting warriors, I will lock you up in that library you love so much.”
She scowled, straightening from the bureau. “Would you stop threatening me? I was trying to save you!”
