The tears I cry from the pain morph into those of a final goodbye. No matter what happens, I know Aric will take care of Celia and their little one. He won’t let anything happen to them. Taran…she’ll always be fine. With her verve, and Gemini there to comfort her, she’ll be okay.
Shayna, my funny and carefree sister, she’ll take it the hardest. Her pep is second only to her heart and the close bond we share as sisters and friends. Koda will hold her and love on her. He won’t let her go, won’t let her hurt alone. Eventually, she’ll make it.
I wipe away my self-pity along with my tears, even though it’s excruciating to do that much. I want to live. I want to see my family and Danny.
And Bren.
Always Bren.
My hand presses to my side as I take a few more painful intakes of air. I’ve never been too hurt to heal. I am now and I need a moment.
No, it was a rough ride. I need more than a moment. I need my magic.
Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe and get that air you need to focus.
My thoughts are a spiral of emotions and ache, battering me as harshly as that creature did. It’s hard to concentrate and I’m unsure I’m seeing everything I should.
I’m deep beneath Tahoe, of that much, I’m certain. Knowing so doesn’t help me formulate a plan and nothing around me offers a means of escape.
There’s always a way out. All the hardships my sisters and I have endured have taught me that much.
A small pool of water licks the shore, slapping gently against my heel. The water appears deeper toward the right of the enclosure where it hugs the wall. It also appears to be expanding. Every part of this labyrinth is running out of time.
And so am I.
I groan, pressing my hand tighter against my ribs when my breathing grows shallower. Goodness, I’m really beat up.
I lift my head, my eyes widening when I see what waits on the other side of the pool. Forget my injuries. I’m in better shape than that vampire.
His body lies flaccid on the beach opposite mine, his hips and legs partially submerged. His decapitated head teeters back and forth several feet away from his torso.
“Fuck,” he moans, spitting out sand. “Fu-u-uck.”
Yes, I have indeed had better nights.
My body trembles from cold and the extent of the damage it’s suffered. I don’t have to take stock of my injuries to recognize I belong in an ICU following the attention of several skilled surgeons. Every slight movement churns my stomach and I’m repeatedly swallowing the copious amounts of blood flooding my mouth.
My lashes flutter several times as I fight to stay awake. I’m close to fainting, again, my head having been pummeled as wickedly as the rest of me.
Keep it together, I tell myself. You have to find Bren.
I think I’m finally ready to heal, only to shudder violently when I catch sight of my foot. The bruising from the damaged ligaments and muscle have doubled its size and turned sections black. The actual limb lays on its side, the instep indented, and my knee and hip disconnected from their sockets.
With another breath, closed eyes, and more effort than it usually takes, I surround myself in pale yellow light, and allow my magic to begin the repairs.
A choked sob rips through my throat as my healing ability snaps my hip back into place. The soothing calm that follows enriches me and has my body begging for more. But with every trauma I heal, a jolt of pain comes. Some are worse than others, all necessary, and all rushed.
I jerk and twitch, feeling my way around each splintered bone and ruptured vessel. The creature that took me spared me from nothing. It wanted me to hurt. It wanted me to fear. And it worked.
I stare hard at my feet.
It also stirred my anger.
It takes me a long time to finish healing. I’m ready for a nap when I reach the last few fragments of bone that make up my ankle. I combat the exhaustion. As good as sleeping sounds, it will only get me killed that much faster.
The vampire’s moans increase when I roll onto my knees and try to rise. “Is someone there?” he asks.
His head tilts from side to side, the slight turn he manages permitting me a better view of his face.
The bouncer, the one from the Watering Hole gapes back at me. “Food,” he says through a mouthful of fangs.
He’s excited to see me. I don’t share the same sentiment. Without thinking, I cover my throat, very much feeling naked. “No,” I tell him. “I’m Emme, not your next meal.”
“Gerald,” he says. He licks his lips, slicing his tongue along his exposed fangs. He laps up the blood. I try not to gag when fluid slides down and out his mangled throat. I don’t do a great job. His actions pretty much sum up the fun that’s made up my evening.
“Why won’t you let me feed from you, Emme?”
“Do you really have to ask?” I say, doing my best to ignore him.
My legs are wobbly when I finally make it to my feet. I stumble forward with all the grace of a freshly dropped giraffe. I’m worn out from healing and the beatdown I received, and Gerald isn’t helping.
“Emme,” he says. “Don’t be like that. Come on over and let me have a taste.”
Gerald, well, back when he was whole, could have graced Parisian fashion magazines. His come-hither glance suggests he still thinks he can.
It takes more than a pretty face to win me over and Gerald’s has seen better days.
“Emme,” he sings. “Come play with me.”
There’s no sense in letting him think he stands a chance. “I don’t hook up with vampires,” I admit.
Despite the cold, here comes the bare
