“Blood, Ely,” Aba snapped, tone frantic.
Ely jumped. She grabbed her dagger from her jacket, slit her wrist, dropped the blade, and pressed the seeping lesion to his unresponsive lips.
And prayed her immortal plasma would help.
“Come on, my love, you have to take this.” She licked his bloodied lips and breathed into his mouth again, then pressed her wrist against his lips. “Come on, Nate!”
“Ely?”
Her head jerked up. A tall figure with pale hair appeared in front of her, followed by another dark-haired male, both looking like they shoveled coal amidst a battlefield, soot and blood streaking their faces and arms.
She blinked her wet eyes. “Týr? Nik?”
“You’re damn hard to catch up to. We just got back from Ys,” Týr said, his tone hard. “Michael sent us after you…” His attention shifted to Aba, and settled on Nate. “What the hell—”
“Why is Nate in that semi-shifted form?” Nik cut him off, hunkering at her side. “What happened?”
“Save him, please!” she begged Nik. “Later, I’ll explain.”
“Ely, he’s a demon shifter,” Týr said, tone like granite. “The worst kind—a wyvern from what I’ve hearddown under—the kind that can’t be allowed on this realm.”
“He isn’t! Not anymore! It’s why I brought him here, hoping someone can save him. Please, please, help me. He’s dying…” Tears she struggled to keep at bay slipped free.
“Hell.” Nik put his hand on her back. “You know I don’t have that ability.”
Týr just stared at Nate’s still distorted face, then growled, “I kill, Ely. Not save.”
She knew that. And Aethan, the only one who could, was in another realm.
More tears fell as Aba continued pumping Nate’s chest, trying to keep his heart beating. She brushed back what was left of Nate’s hair, chunks of it having been burned away by lava.
“I can’t lose him, Aba,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
“I know, child. I don’t want that, either,” he said, his anguish making him appear as if he’d aged decades. “We should go back to the garage. Better he’s in a place that is home and where he is loved in his last moments.” He shot dark glares at the warriors.
The front door flew open. Kira and Shadow stood there, eyes wide.
“Nik?Nate!” Shadow sprinted to them and dropped to her knees, grasping his other scaly, clawed hand. “Oh, Christ! His face, his hands—what happened?”
“I dug out his symbiont to save him from the beast’s c-control,” Ely choked out. “But without it, he’s dying…”
“What?” Shadow lifted panic-stricken eyes to her.
Ely shook her head, refusing to accept it. “I won’t let him die. I’ll go back to Empyrea, find someone—”
Power flowed over her, and all heads snapped up as Lore—Echo’s angelic tutor—appeared, his sunset wings closed against his back, his flamed-hued hair like a halo.
He was her last hope.
“Lore, please, please help him. You’re a heavenly angel.”
His calm gaze settled on Nate’s gaunt and bloodied body, bits of his burned hair sticking to his scorched bleeding face. “It is not my place to heal, and especially not those who are our natural foe.”
“Why are you here, then? To see him die?” she snarled.
The angel glanced at her. “I was simply curious at the unnatural commotion in this place.”
“Maybe Aethan can help?” Kira cut Lore a furious glare as she knelt near Shadow.
