Diana stood, her mouth agape, and stared at the body. She’d just done that. She’d killed her second demon and all she had to show for it was a shallow cut on her forearm. Again, it had felt a little like her body had taken control of her mind and accomplished the deed, but she’d done it.
She shook away the shock at her success and ran for Cadan. By the time she reached him, Cadan was beheading the smaller demon. But while his arm was outstretched, the larger assailant managed to sink its sword into Cadan’s side and twist the blade.
Covered in blood from a dozen wounds, Cadan turned on the demon and sank his blade straight through its neck. The figure crumpled, and with a quick jerk of his sword, the head was nearly severed from the body.
Cadan fell to his knees. He swayed, but didn’t collapse. She ran to him, felt the gravel bite into her knees as she fell to his side on the wet road, and reached out to brush his hair off his face.
“Cadan, come on, you have to get up.” He groaned and opened his eyes. She glanced down at his body and gasped. The wounds were terrible—slices all over his torso and legs that were seeping blood. The last stab wound just blended in with the rest. “We have to go. What if there are more of them?”
“Go on, lassie...to the house. I’ll be fine...I’ll follow.” He coughed.
“No, I’m not leaving you.” She already hated herself for cowering in the car. She wasn’t going to leave him here when clearly he couldn’t walk.
“Go, Diana.”
She ignored him and raced across the wet pavement to the car. The door handle was slick beneath her trembling hands, but she finally managed to yank it open and get the car started. After a brief prayer that she’d be able to operate a car with a steering wheel on the wrong side, she revved it into reverse and backed up close to the spot where he lay. She scrambled out of the car and struggled to help him up.
“Come on, you have to get up so we can go to the hospital.” Could there possibly be a hospital on this small island? Was the ferry still running?
“No hospital.” He clenched his teeth, his face twisted with pain. “I’ll heal.”
He’d heal? Magically? That was something she didn’t want to ponder, not now.
He pushed himself up, and between the two of them, they managed to get him into the back seat. Then she hurled herself into the driver’s seat and took off, foot pressed hard on the gas. Squinting, she peered out the windshield and tried to make out the road that was supposed to be ahead. Left turn, left turn. Where was it?
There. A small road, nothing more than a dirt path, shimmered in the wet grass. The temperamental moon provided barely enough light to see it. She pulled the wheel left and the tires spun on the gravel.
The drive went on forever, gradually leading up toward the sea, until a large stone manor house appeared. The land just beyond it dropped off abruptly. The house sat on a cliff. She got the impression of a sprawling old building with as many secrets as its master.
She pulled up to the front steps and climbed out of the car. With shaking hands, she yanked the car door open.
“Cadan?” He was slumped in the seat, but he looked up at the sound of her voice. “Come on, I’ll help you up. We need to get inside.”
She glanced around her at the land surrounding the house, grateful to see no ominous figures stalking the night. Just tree branches whipping in the wind. He groaned as he climbed out of the car, but was already moving a bit more easily.
“I’m fine,” he said brusquely, but stumbled.
“You’re not.” Stupid man. She wedged herself under his arm again and led him up the worn stone steps that had been trod upon by countless feet. Or perhaps the same feet, just countless times. She looked up at the man leaning heavily on her.
He seemed to be dragging himself up toward the door. How many times in his long life had he crawled away from battle, barely alive? She was just glad she’d been here to help him this time.
“The key, Cadan, where is it?” She patted at his pockets, desperate to get both of them to safety behind closed doors.
“Doona need it.” His voice was breathless with pain.
He leaned against one of the wide wooden doors and it swung open slowly, silently. Clearly, either no one would dare enter his home uninvited, or it was hidden by magic.
The foyer within was high ceilinged and dark. She led him across the wooden floor toward the wide stairway.
“Where’s your bed? Is anyone else here?”
“Upstairs, left.” He stopped to draw a ragged breath. “And nay.”
They stumbled up the stairs together, his weight feeling like Sisyphus’s boulder on her shoulder. He nodded toward a doorway at the end of the hall, and they staggered through it. As they passed over the threshold she stuck her hand out, hoping to find a light switch. Sheer luck led her fingers to it quickly, and she flipped it on. Windows covered one wall that would probably look out to the sea, and against the adjacent wall sat a large four-poster bed.