Page 35 of Fallen Court

“They’re simply interested in the healing—”

“Now,” I added.

He tilted his head. “Of course.”

That was the chief of medicine’s real job: to obey me. He started toward them, already barking his own orders, and the staff scattered.

“He’s in that one.” Ciara pointed to a room across the hall.

Monitors beeped rhythmically as we entered, tracking every aspect of Channing’s fragile condition. But it was all just background noise compared to the crushing weight of worry that sat heavily on my chest.

“Lach,” Shaw greeted me, but he wasn’t alone. His companion was the opposite of my red-haired brother in every way, from his dark-brown skin and cropped hair to the nearly black eyes. But his gloves gave him away as a vampire.

“Where’s Baptiste?” I asked, eyes narrowing on him.

“She sent me.” A smooth smile slid onto his face as he extended a hand. “Dante. I know your brother from school. We—”

“Do you know why you’re here?” I cut him off.

He glanced at Shaw. My brother lifted his eyebrows as if to say, I told you so.

“Baptiste told me to do whatever you asked.” He nodded. “And she told me to tell you that you’re going to owe her.”

“You’ll definitely pay for this favor later,” Roark muttered, casting a sidelong glance in my direction. Until recently, he’d shared a psychic link with me courtesy of our matching signet rings. But I’d entrusted my ring to Ciara in my absence, which meant Roark had to share his frequent warnings with everyone in the room.

“Whatever it takes.”

He nodded subtly—a silent promise that we’d do everything in our power to make that happen.

“We need him awake,” I ordered Dante, my voice tense.

Surprise registered on his face. The fae had access to vampire healing magic; our blood apples grown from their blood and venom sped our healing when consumed, as did ambrosia, the wine we made from the fruit. But strictly speaking, I was out of line asking a vampire to heal a human. It wasn’t against any laws, exactly, but the Vampire Council frowned on it. Baptiste would make certain they didn’t find out…for a price. One that would be determined at a later date.

“We can extract my venom,” he offered. “It will be more sanitary, but we’ll need—”

“We don’t have time. Do what you have to do.”

Dante didn’t ask more questions, drawing a small knife from his pocket and making a shallow cut on his wrist. Blood welled up, pooling around the incision before he pressed it to Channing’s lips. But that was only half the process. Dante reared back, eyes going pitch-black before he sank his fangs into Channing’s neck to deposit his venom. One quick bite and he stood back up, patting the corners of his mouth with a tissue.

“It shouldn’t take too long.” He moved toward the door, Shaw following close behind him.

I managed a terse nod. “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Shaw ushered the vampire toward the door, looking grateful for a chance to escape.

Ciara shifted on her feet, arms wrapping around her waist as we waited for the effects to take hold. “He’s going to have a scar.”

“He’ll thank me when he walks again,” I muttered.

“Okay, but you’re explaining this to Cate.”

Gladly.

I closed my eyes, imagining how she would scream at me, and smiled.

Roark nudged me, and I opened my eyes as Channing’s fluttered, the monitors attached to his body going haywire. Roark reached over and ripped the cords from the wall to shut them off. The machines were no longer necessary.

Channing spluttered, his body spasming as it knit itself back together. But he didn’t wake up.