I ripped the paper off the fridge and dialled the firstnumber.
A few moments later, an alarmed voice crackled through the receiver. “Who is this? What’s wrong? What’shappening?”
My shoulders sagged in relief. I knew that voice. “Saoirse, is thatyou?”
“Huh?” A moment passed. “Wait.Moira?Why are you using the safe house phone? Wait. Are youokay?”
Thank the Morrigan it had been Saoirse who answered the phone. If it had been anyone else, I might have had trouble explaining what hadhappened.
“I’m here with Lugh. We got attacked in Barrie’s Close, and he’s...not in great shape. He’s bleeding everywhere, and he’s completelyunconscious.”
“The King is hurt?!” Her whispered voice rushed through the phone. “Wait, he was attacked? Did anyone touch hisspear?”
I frowned at the question. Why would that matter? “No, we were unarmed, which is how they got us.” Edging back toward the door, I glanced into the living room where I’d left Lugh passed out on the floor—I hadn’t been able to lift him onto the sofa. “Listen, he’s in really bad shape, and I’m not a healer. What should Ido?”
“There’s a kit in the bathroom in the cupboard above the sink,” she said quickly. “Apply the salve to his wound and put one of the bandages aroundit.”
“Um.” I frowned at the gash on his stomach. “It’s a big-ass wound,Saoirse.”
“Then use his shirt. Just get it covered until we getthere.”
The phone clicked in my ear. I held it away from me and stared before slamming it back on the wall. My heart thumped as I took another glance at Lugh. Help was on the way, but I hoped it wouldn’t be long. The colour had begun to drain from his face. I didn’t want to think too hard about what thatmeant.
Scurrying into the bathroom, I found the cupboard and the kit inside. It had that same sigil etched onto the front, which was a good sign I’d found the right thing. When I returned to the living room, I dropped to Lugh’s side and grabbed a glass medicine bottle clearly labeled, “Salve.”
When I unscrewed the top, I had to wrinkle my nose. Blimey, this shit stank like rotten eggs mixed with burnt plastic. Whatever this was, it was potent, which hopefully meant it would do thetrick.
I spread some across my hand, grimaced and then dabbed it against Lugh’s wound. Blood smeared onto my hand. Scrunching my nose, I continued dabbing the salve until I’d coveredeverything.
The whole room reeked now, but it was done. I grabbed Lugh’s shirt and ripped off a strip of it, revealing more of his chiseled abs. Swallowing hard, I pressed the cloth against the wound, sat back on my heels, andwaited.
I’d done what I’d been told, but I didn’t think it wasenough.
Lugh hadn’t even flinched, and his chest barely moved as hebreathed.
He was dying, and for some bizarre reason I didn’t understand, the very core of me—my soul—feltscared.
11
Saoirse burst through the door,her dark hair floating around her shoulders as if she’d just been hit with a jolt of electric energy. Her eyes swirled around the room before landing on Lugh’s unconscious form spread across the floor. Her body tensed, then relaxed. She twisted toward the door and flicked herfingers.
Several more supernaturals strode into the little hideaway. Two more fae, the ginger-haired warriors from the night of my trial, whose names I’d since learned were Warin and Boudica. They were twins. And a sorcerer. I sniffed, narrowing my eyes. I wasn’t a big fan of sorcerers. Every time I went near one, something terrible tended to happen. They sucked in drama wherever they went, like some kind of tornado ofproblems.
I was pretty sure they liked it thatway.
This guy, though, reminded me nothing of the sorcerers I’d met before. He was built like a tank, his hair buzzed short. It highlighted his thick neck covered in elaborate tattoos. Dark ink crept up the side of his face to his hairline. I drank in his clothes. Dark jeans ripped at the knees. Black boots. And a heavy metal band t-shirt.
Sorcerers—unlike fae, vampires, and werewolves—were human. They just happened to be gifted with magical abilities from the power that had seeped from the fae realm and into this one. It didn’t run in bloodlines, and it didn’t matter where you lived. It just showed up, unexpectedly. Many sorcerers spent their entire lives never knowing what they were, just thinking they werefreaks.
“Axel,” Saoirse said, waving emphatically at the sorcerer. “Take care of Lugh’s wound. You two,” she said as she swivelled toward the warriors, “keep a look out in the close, just in case the attackers comeback.”
“I don’t think they’re coming back,” I said quietly. “They got what they camefor.”
“We can’t be too careful,” she said in asnap.
“Hey now.” I held up my hands. “Don’t take this out on me. I’m only repeating what one of the attackers said. They wanted to take Lugh out, and theydid.”
Her expression softened. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried. He hardly ever leaves the castle without a spear, and so I’ve never seen him like thisbefore.”
