As he traced his fingers over her flesh, he whispered a spell. His aura seeped into her body, drawing the pain from her shattered bones and caressing her skin. She glanced down to see her wound healing, and let out a long breath. Gods, it felt so much better. As if that weren’t enough, the blood disappeared from her shirt.
She took a steadying breath as the mage covered her shoulder with her shirt again. Something about his proximity deeply unnerved her. Maybe it was the fact that he served the night god—just like the vamps who’d murdered her parents.
“What about the bullet?” she asked.
“Gone.”
She still had no idea why he was helping her. “You even cleaned the blood out of my shirt.”
“It would attract vampires.”
She shuddered. “Thank you. I guess.” He’d just saved her life, yet he was her natural enemy. Frantic thoughts whirled through her mind. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are we here? Why is Randolph Loring hunting me?”
At that moment, the chapel doors creaked open, and a man in a black robe motioned for her to enter. A dark hood cast his face in shadow.
“You’re safe here,” the mage said. “Orcus will look after you.”
“You want me to stay in this mansion?”
“The Brotherhood won’t be able to find you here.”
The sight of the cleric tightened her chest. He looked like a grim reaper. In fact, he probably was a grim reaper. “Do I have a choice in any of this? Am I a prisoner?”
The mage’s raven circled overhead, then landed on his shoulder. “You came here willingly, but I have instructions to make sure you’re safe, which means staying in the mansion. Orcus will make sure no one hurts you.”
Desperation warped her mind, and she struggled to string a coherent thought together. “I can’t stay here. There’s obviously been some sort of mistake. I’m not a mage. I’m a Hunter. When things have calmed down, I’ll explain everything to the Brotherhood. I’ve never even seen a spell book.” She suddenly felt a desperate need to convince him.
Dark lashes framed his pale eyes, and his unwavering gaze almost hypnotized her. “The Brotherhood execute people without trials, and they want to burn you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You won’t be able to reason with them. On some level, you understand that, or you’d never have come with me.”
The night wind kissed her skin. “They execute demons. Not people. And they don’t burn people anymore. That was just a medieval thing.”
“The medieval ways are returning.”
“I’m not a mage.” Her mind raced with panic. What if this whole thing had been an illusion concocted by the demons to tempt her away from her true path? “I’ve never learned any magic.”
Moonlight bathed his cheekbones and pale eyes in silver. “It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what they think you are.”
“And I’m supposed to stay with the grim reaper.” She had no idea who to trust at this point, but the shadow mage ranked pretty low on the list, and she couldn’t see herself going out for Appletinis with the faceless reaper anytime soon. “I’m supposed to just take your word for all of this.”
“You’re supposed to use your own senses and capacity for rational thought. You saw the Brotherhood coming for you, and they shot you.” He glanced away. “I don’t have time for this.”
“How can I trust my own senses when you have the power to warp them?”
His cold gaze slid over her, and as he stepped closer, her heart skipped a beat. “What purpose would that serve? If I wanted you dead, you’d be in the earth right now. If I wanted you to kill people, you’d be pulling out one of those knives and thrusting it into a heart.”
Dread tightened its grip around her chest as she looked up at him. “Tell me why you helped me.”
“Ambrose wants you alive.”
“And who the hell is Ambrose?”
“You don’t need to know that right now.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from screaming at him. She needed answers, and he was giving her nothing. She steadied her voice. “Okay, let’s start with this: You know my name. You apparently know things about me. And who, exactly, are you?”
“Caine Mountfort. We’ve met before.” He cocked his head, examining her. “Apparently, I didn’t leave such a lasting impression.”
Recognition flickered in the recesses of her mind—the boy with the gray eyes… “Did I know you in England? Before Mason adopted me?”
“England?” He arched an eyebrow. “Is that what the Brotherhood told you?”
She was ready to scream with frustration. “Yes, because that’s where I’m from. I lived in England until a few of your vampire buddies murdered my parents.”
He took a long, slow breath as if marshaling his patience. Something seemed to have unnerved him. “Look, I don’t have the time or the inclination to delve into this with you. You must go with Orcus.”