Sabre shrugged. “Unless you guys can sit down and hash it out together. Maybe get counseling. Or have Rade get in your heads and snip that thread.”
Counseling wasn’t a terrible idea, but getting Mace to sit still for more than ten minutes wasn’t easy, especially if he had to talk about his feelings. And as far as Rade getting into his head? That was a hard no. He wasn’t letting his brother anywhere near his mind. Mace and Scotty wouldn’t, either.
“How about a spell that would reduce the animosity between you?” Sabre offered.
Interesting proposal. “Spells can be that specific?”
“Sure.” Sabre shrugged. “You just need to find a trustworthy spellcaster. Good luck.”
He seemed to be enjoying Blade’s predicament a little too much. That was the Soulshredder in him. They could see emotional wounds and scars, and they got off on exploiting them.
“The hospital employs some spellcasters,” Blade said. “They’d be trustworthy.”
“True.” Sabre reached for a handful of M&Ms in a bowl next to the computer. “But they’ll tell our parents, and you know it’ll get back to Ares. And then you’ll die horribly.”
“That’s so helpful.”
“I try.” Sabre tossed a piece of candy into the air and caught it in his mouth.
Blade heaved a sigh, cutting it short because his ribs were killinghim. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids. He needed to go. He’d heal fully in his sleep, just in time to start all over again.
“I’m gonna bounce.” Blade looked around at the destruction. “Unless you need help cleaning up.”
“Nah, thanks. Some staff from the morgue are coming up to lend a hand.”
Blade nodded. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” Sabre said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Nice offer, but unless Sabre had secretly developed a time-travel machine in his lab, there was nothing the guy could do.
Unfortunately, Blade had a feeling there was nothing anyone could do.
Mace always liked going home. His mom kept his favorite hazelnut butter cookies on hand for visits, and his dad would share all the crazy crap going on in the hospital. Man, Mace was glad he hadn’t gone into the medical field. His dad’s job poking around inside dead demons was probably interesting, but being stuck in one place would drive Mace nuts. He needed to be active and busy all the time, even if he was just playing video games.
“Hey, son,” Lore said as Mace stepped through the front door of his parents’ Italian villa. He’d grown up here, among the clementine groves and vineyards. Had learned to appreciate good food, good wine, and good friends.
And right now, his good friends were in trouble.
“Hi, Pops.” He gave his dad a hug and had to hide a wince at the way Lore unintentionally squashed Mace’s pulverized shoulder. He’d taken several crushing blows from blunt weapons on that side of his body. Not that the other side was much better.
“You okay? You look beat.” Lore peered closer. “Is that a black eye?”
“Yup.” It was mostly healed, barely a shadowy crescent now, but his dad noticed everything. At least Mace had gone home, showered, and changed, so he didn’t look like he’d been dragged througha slaughterhouse anymore. He’d also gotten in half an hour with Masumi, but he’d been too exhausted to do anything but lie there while she did all the work.
And during the entire thing, all he could think about was Scotty doing that to Blade, which pissed him off and gave him the energy to come talk to his dad.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She’s at the hospital.”
“Working?”
Lore nodded. “She’s looking for a spirit that’s been evading her for days.”
Well, good. Mace wasn’t sure he wanted his mom to hear this. “Is Wraith here yet?”
“He’s out back.” Lore gestured with his gloved hand toward the open glass doors behind him. Mace could only recall seeing his dad’s bare right hand a few times in his entire life, which was fine. The glove kept everyone safe.
